Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
#bts fics
yoonpobs · a day ago
back-burner | 10
Tumblr media
two broken hearts
PAIRING. min yoongi x reader
GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, frenemies2lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, eventual smut, eventual fuff
WARNINGS. angst, explosive fights, lots of crying, new revelations that break hearts, implications of poor mental health
WORDS. 6.4k
back-burner masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter
Tumblr media
You couldn’t keep your promises, you realised as you take a brief glance at your wall clock. It’s nearly two a.m. and your eyes are strained with the number of hours you spent in front of your laptop screen. But you suppose that what Jungkook and Yoongi don’t know, won’t hurt them. You were feeling fine, a little drowsy—but more accomplished than anything as you stare at the final draft of the proposal stare back at you when you stare down.
It’s a little rougher than you’d like, but you’d take it. It was months of hard work and persevering, even dealing with overly compassionate friends who wanted you to take a break, so you were relieved that the bulk of it was done. You could think about editing it tomorrow.
You stretch your limbs, craning your neck as you wince at the loud pop it makes. Your cup is empty, and your dining table is strewn with documents and papers like you were back in university. The visual almost makes you smile, the fond memories of pulling all-nighters for assignments and essays returning to your mind.
Then you remember how much you hated what you were studying, and how philosophy was never your thing—but Haerin’s.
You shake your head, standing up and closing your laptop as you approach the kitchen.
But your relatively quiet night (morning), gets disrupted with a rapt knock on your door.
Now, you freeze.
You rarely ever had visitors, and even if you did—they came over at socially acceptable hours, not at demon time. You think the worst for a split second, prepared to grab a knife to defend yourself in case the person behind your door decides that they were too impatient to wait for your greeting and break it down instead.
But you were tired, and lest you don’t necessarily make the best decisions when you were drowsy, so you head to your door, weaponless as you decide to take the risk by piquing your curiousity and opening your door.
Your guest surprises you more than an intruder.
“Hi,” she says meekly. She’s dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, more unkempt than you’ve seen her in a long while. “Can I come in?”
You falter, eyes blinking as she nervously rocks on her heel. Only when your eyes refocus onto the figure before you, which was your sister, do you step aside to allow her entry to your apartment.
“Sure, I mean …” you gesture her in as she mumbles a soft thank you under her breath. You’re sleep-deprived and confused. “Is everything all right?”
“I had nowhere else to go,” she murmurs, plopping onto your couch as you shut the door behind you.
You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating because of sleep deprivation, but you were still extremely confused. The tone which Haerin takes is one you’ve never heard her adopt before, making you even more perplexed and worried, especially when she pointedly ignores your question for her vague responses.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone—?”
Haerin looks up, and you’re alarmed to see her red-rimmed eyes and sunken dark circles. “Did you know I was scrolling through my contacts and I realised I had no one to call? No one that I could reach out to?”
“Haerin, you’re scaring me,” you say with a frown as you take a seat next to her. Her eyes are … empty, and it terrifies you because Haerin’s always smiling. She was the bubbly sibling, the one that lifted moods with her presence. The person before you is a reflection of the person you thought you were. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
You repeat your question because she doesn’t seem to be responding to it, but Haerin’s eyes drop to her lap as she fiddles with her thumbs.
“I’m sorry. I just—I had no one else I knew that I could go to and you were—”
“Haerin,” you say curtly.
Her face darts up, and her eyes are wide. She looks so vulnerable that your heart aches for her. If anyone were to see the two of you, it’d look like she was the younger sister and not you, especially with the way she hunches herself into a shell you never thought she had.
“What happened?” you ask softly.
The tears in her eyes are what alarms you even further.
“We broke up.”
You take a second, no two; to process her words, and the way that her lip begins to wobble after the words have settled into the air. Your brain attempts to rationalise her statement, recalling the context of her words as your mouth falls open.
They broke up.
“Oh my God,” you say breathlessly, and you have no idea what to think or say. You wanted to be selfish but Haerin looked distraught, and you couldn’t be that person. Not when she was here, vulnerable and open. “Are you okay?”
You repeat your question, again, because you had no idea what to say or do.
Her reaction slightly frightens you, but you keep your composure.
“We broke up,” she repeats with a tight laugh as all you can do is stare at her. “Were we even together?”
“Haerin …” you say quietly, reaching out to grab her hand in a manner that was so uncharacteristic for the both of you that she seems to jump at the contact. But the lifelessness in her eyes only causes you to encase her smaller palms with your own. “I know it must hurt—”
“Is this what I’m feeling?” she asks, “I don’t know how I feel and I’m so—I’m so scared.”
She sounds so distant, and you can’t imagine the thoughts or feelings that run through her mind. You’re too preoccupied with the fact that Haerin is in front of you, confiding you when your dynamics were never like that.
So, you bring her into your arms, the only way you know how to for the time being. It felt awkward and slightly stiff when her chin meets your shoulder, but you pat her back softly in an attempt to comfort her in a way you know your words can’t.
“I thought …” she says shakily, “I thought it was the right choice. That we were going to work out. I mean, we were friends basically our entire teenage to adult life. And … it just—”
She pulls away, eyes wide when she looks at you as if you had answers.
“Why didn’t it work out?”
You say the first thing that comes to your mind.
“Sometimes, it’s easy to conflate platonic love and romantic love.”
Her eyes drop to her lap once more as you squeeze her shoulders.
“Did I?” she asks quietly.
Haerin looks up, and she looks visibly deflated as if she had failed herself. You wonder if this was her first failure, in life. One that didn’t necessarily constitute her intellect, but represented her emotional connections with people that weren’t theoretical studies in the philosophy books she loves.
“Did I get it confused?”
“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. Then, feeling like a horrible confidant, you continue, “I’m sorry.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head. “You don’t need to apologise. I just—I don’t know. I don’t know how to feel.”
“There isn’t a proper feeling you need to feel,” you say. “How do you feel?”
Haerin blinks, taking in the weight of your words as you return her gaze. The silence is suffocating, maybe only for you. You never did well in extended periods of silence because your thoughts ran wild. It allowed things to happen even if they didn’t, and your rationality to turn into irrationality. Silence was dangerous for people like you, while it allowed people like Haerin to bloom.
“I broke up with him.”
This makes you still.
“You must think your older sister is crazy, right?” she laughs, falling back into the couch as you stutter in your movements to take in her expression. Her eyes gaze up to the ceiling as she sighs. “I come to your apartment at midnight in tears about my breakup and I was the one that initiated it?”
You find your tongue after a while, shaking your head before you’re shifting closer. “No, I mean … I’m confused but your feelings are still valid. It takes a lot of courage to walk away.”
You mean it. You really do. You know that better than anyone else, yet you never found yourself practising that knowledge.
You were the coward for staying to hurt yourself because of familiarity.
She scoffs. “It sure doesn’t feel that way.”
“Can I …” you swallow, “Can I ask why—?”
“I’m a coward,” she tells you so vehemently that you nearly get whiplash. “I’m a coward, ____. I’m a coward because I walked into something fully knowing it wasn’t my place to arrive at.”
“Haerin, hold on,” you say with furrowed brows, “What do you mean?”
“Do you want to know why we broke up?” she asks softly.
“I-I mean only if you’re ready—”
“Imagine being with someone you’ve known for most of your life, thinking that he should’ve been the one only to realise that perfect utopia was an imagination crafted by your own delusions,” she says quietly.
Your breath hitches.
“Imagine being so scared of being alone that you jumped into a relationship with someone who’s familiar to you. Just because it seemed right.”
You can’t bring yourself to respond because Haerin sounds so—tired. Her words ring louder despite her tone being soft, and you can’t draw your eyes away from her. She looks so different like this, and you wonder if she’s ever allowed herself to be vulnerable—to be a step lower than perfection.
“You know he’d never hold my hand?” Haerin says.
You blink.
Like thunder, your memory cracks back to the day at the fair. The words you heard leave Haerin’s mouth in a manner that was unlike her at all. Similar to the woman in front of you, she was frustrated, borderline frantic, but she was Haerin. The Haerin that always had her head up high, back straight and face preened to perfection.
“I thought it was just because the transition must’ve been awkward and all,” she chuckles humourlessly. “Going from a best friend to a lover. It’s weird, I get that.”
Your heart unconsciously clenches at what she referred to him as, but you purse your lips and tell yourself to not be selfish—that this wasn’t about you.
“But he’d never touch me,” she whispers, “He’d never look at me differently. Just the same way he always has.”
“That’s because he’s always loved you—” you begin to say, spewing the truth that you’ve told yourself to be true from the very first day you saw him in your home.
“—Does he?” she spits, as your eyes widen, “Do you stiffen up when the person you love tries to hold your hand? Tries to hug you?”
“Haerin …” you say slowly.
“No,” she snaps, and you see her slowly losing it. She laughs, nearly tugging at her hair as you flounder in an attempt to reason with her. “You don’t do that if you love someone, ____. You know what you do?”
“I …” you choke.
“You drive at godspeed to a place even if it’s ass o’clock to make sure that they’re safe,” she says, and you freeze. Your body locks up and you can’t say anything. You’re stunned to absolute silence but Haerin isn’t. “You buy them their favourite treats because you were thinking of them.”
You don’t know why, but your throat is dry, and Haerin looks—menacing. Her eyes are wide and frantic, and you unconsciously lean back into your sofa when she inches forward.
“You look at them like they’re the only thing you ever see,” she whispers harshly, and her forehead drops to your shoulder as you exhale shakily, her fingers are digging almost painfully into your bicep while you hold your breath. “You do all of that when you’re in love with someone.”
“H-Haerin, you need—”
“I tried to kiss him and he pushed me away,” she croaks, and there are tears in her eyes. You hear the shatter of her heart instead of seeing it. “Do you push the person you love away, ____?”
Unintentionally, you think.
“And the worst part,” she says vehemently, “Is that I don’t even love him.”
Your chest constricts, and the atmosphere is heavy. Haerin is breathing heavily, chest heaving as you can only stare at her. Your mind is running at a hundred miles per hour, endlessly trying to make sense of her words—to understand why they felt so familiar and to understand why you were so intent on denying them to her face.
There was something about her confession that makes you breathless. Dizzy. She didn’t love him. She broke up with him. Why? It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this made sense—they were supposed to stay together. They were supposed to be endgame. He chose her. So why—?
“Yoongi and I were never meant to be together,” she says, laughing softly. “I’m not heartbroken,” she tells you. “I’m hurt.”
You have nothing to say, too stunned to silence.
“I’m hurt because I thought I needed to be with someone to fill this loneliness in my heart.” You hear her cry, loud and unobstructed when she basically falls into your arms. Haerin doesn’t keep her facade up, and the tears keep flowing like her dam was broken.
You don’t know why but tears well up in your eyes too, and you try to blink them away mostly in confusion but the first tear falls and you wonder how long has it been.
How long has it been since Haerin felt this way?
Since you’ve resented her for doing everything right when it seemed like she was falling apart right in front of your very eyes?
Haerin sobs uncontrollably, blubbers nonsense into your shirt while holding onto you like a child. She’s vulnerable and feral right now, uncaring of whether or not her sobs are louder than the clamour in your chest—or the thoughts that run through your mind. No, she’s uninhibited when she clings onto you like she never wants you to let go.
You won’t. Despite the hole in your chest that’s aching for answers, you don’t push Haerin away.
Because this is the first time she’s felt like a sister.
“I’m so lonely,” she whispers, “I thought—I thought being with Yoongi would fix me …”
“You don’t need to be fixed, Haerin,” you tell her honestly through your own shaky voice.
“Yoongi’s my best friend, ____,” she whimpers, “H-How could I do this to him? Be so selfish?”
“People make mistakes and that’s okay,” you say softly, wiping under her eyes to remove the flow of tears that escapes. “Yoongi would never hold this against you.”
“B-But I got in the way of what makes him happy,” she wails, clutching you harder.
“You didn’t—” you attempt to say, but she shakes her head frantically, eyes darting up so that you’d look at her desperate gaze. As if to tell you that you didn’t know what she was saying—what you were implying with the words that were better left unsaid.
“It’s because I see the way he loves and I wished it was me,” she croaks, “Not because I love him but because I’m selfish.”
“It’s not selfish to want to be loved,” you whisper.
“But it’s selfish to want that for me when it was never mine, to begin with,” she whimpers.
You don’t know what to say. You don’t understand the implications of Haerin’s words, and you think she’s blubbering nonsense in her hazy state. For a moment, you pity her. The weight of the world expecting her to be perfect all the time finally crumbling down her facade—and you wonder if the two of you shared more in common than you thought.
“You’re human, Haerin. You make mistakes, you may end up hurting people, and that’s okay. You can’t control the aftershocks of your actions,” you say softly. “No one’s going to hold being human against you. You’re going to do things right and you’re going to do things wrong. But never blame yourself for wanting to make yourself happy.”
“You know,” she suddenly chokes, “I really wanted to be close with you.”
Your heart seizes.
“I really wanted to be your older sister,” she confesses and you feel your eyes well up with tears. “I wanted to be someone you could confide in, to talk to whenever you were stressed. I wanted us to have sister fights and make up in twenty seconds. I always thought you were amazing. Just being who you were—I wanted to be your sister so badly.”
“Haerin …”
“But I was so caught up in the world that mom and dad threw me in that …” she sniffs, “That I prioritised myself and neglected you.”
“—I let mom and dad treat you the way they do even if I knew you didn’t deserve that,” she rambles on, unfiltered and loose-lipped. “I let them celebrate me when you were all alone.”
Your lips wobble as you tilt your head up to stop your tears.
“I had the world and you only had yourself.”
“I had Jungkook,” you say weakly through a smile. It was the truth. Things were tough—but you weren’t really alone, were you? “And Hobi. And Loli,” you tell her before cupping her cheek. “But now I have you too, right?”
Her lips wobble as her face crumbles.
“You have me,” she whispers, “And you have Yoongi, too.”
You smile sadly. “Yeah.”
“I mean it,” she exclaims, eyes wide, begging you to believe her with her body language. “You and Yoongi—you have each other.”
Do you? Have him? It seems like things were settling, and a selfish—human—part of you is relieved that Haerin and Yoongi were no longer together. Even if she claimed that they were never together in that way.
But if he chose her even for those moments, who were you in the grand scheme of things?
“I know,” you say, and it’s a ruse to convince yourself too.
“I’m serious,” she says manically, sitting up so abruptly that you fall back onto your elbows. Your eyes remain wide but your heart is beating rapidly against your chest. Her face is exasperated. Desperate. As if there were words too heavy that lay on her tongue, ready to propel forward like ripples of water. “You—he—you know? Right? You must know!”
“You should—”
“Yoongi doesn’t love me,” she whimpers, and you feel the sadness in her voice. Though it’s not quite heartbreak, it’s very close. It’s the sound of a lonely woman trying to navigate the world that thinks the best of her. A lonely woman on a path crafted by others while others watched. “He loves—“
“He loves you, Haerin,” you say quietly, squeezing her hands. “He loves you. Can’t you see?”
You don’t know who you’re trying to convince. Her, or yourself—even if your heart crumbles at the very thought of Yoongi being so in love with her.
“He doesn’t! Not in that way!” she roars, pushing you back as your eyes blow even wider. She’s practically on top of you, pinning you down with her tiny hands while you grab her forearms in alarm.
“He doesn’t love me! He doesn’t,” she hisses, shaking her head, “He—”
“Haerin, stop,” you say shakily, “You don’t know what you’re saying—”
“I’ve been expected to know a lot of things in life, ____ and I never actually did. But this is something I know with my entire heart and soul,” she chuckles humourlessly.
When her eyes drop to your own, her grip loosening before she practically falls on you as if she lost the fight to keep her upright, metaphorically and literally.
Her mouth opens, and her next words make your ears ring.
“He doesn’t love me because he loves you.”
There’s silence. It’s raining now. A thunderstorm in the middle of the night and you almost want to laugh at how perfect the timing was. The lighting of your living room is dim, with the shadow of Haerin’s fatigue apparent on her face when her eyes blaze towards you. She’s breathing heavily, panting with exertion as if she ran a marathon.
But it’s deathly silent on your head. There’s no breathing. There’s no movement. There’s nothing to indicate that you’ve heard what she said. But when you register her words, and the magnitude of them—
You shove her off you, her body falling onto the plush surface next to the both of you.
“Don’t lie!” you shout, “Fuck you, Haerin!”
“Why would I lie to you!” she exasperates desperately, trying to grab your hand when you pull away from her, mind reeling at the remnants of her words.
“Why would he—why would you—? He—” you stammer, eyes rapidly blinking when you feel the tears win the flightless game as it runs down your face.
“Yoongi loves you,” she whispers vehemently, her swollen eyes glaring at you when she manages to pin you down again.
It’s almost comical. How the two of you were in tears, tired, in your apartment, fighting each other in a way that’s never happened before. Interacting with each other in a way that you could only hypothesise. You’ve never gotten mad at Haerin, and neither has she. It was because while the two of you shared the same blood, you were distant throughout your entire life.
This—your panting breaths, manic eyes, and desperation—was the closest you’ve ever been.
“He chose you!” you scream, “How could he love me when he chose you? He always chose you! He never chose—!”
“Then you’re stupid!” she screams back, equally as loud. You wonder if your neighbours were going to report you to management for a noise complaint but you couldn’t care less. “You’re stupid and you’re dumb and I hate you! I hate you because you can’t see anything that’s in front of you!”
You gasp.
“I hate you because you have everything I’ve ever wanted and you don’t see it! You don’t see how much I want to live like you! To be close to you! Why can’t you see?” she cries.
You shove at her, her eyes widening before you’re clambering on top of her with your hands on her shoulders as you use all the force you have to keep her in place.
“I’m stupid? You’re stupid!” you seethe, “You’re stupid because you have everything you could ever want and mom and dad’s validation and you think Yoongi doesn’t love you? You think I’ve got everything you want? Try being me and see how fucking shitty it is.”
“You think that matters to me? You think any of that matters to me when I’m so fucking lonely?” she sobs, trying to fight your grasp off. “You’re so fucking dumb! Yoongi never chose me! Never! If you looked close enough then you’d see!”
“See? All I saw was how he treated you,” you hiss venomously, “How he looked at you like you were his world—that he would do anything for you—!”
“Shut the fuck up!” she screeches, whining in frustration while she thrashes in your hold. “Yoongi’s so in love with you and you refuse to see it. You did this! You did this!”
“Did what?” you scream.
“This!” she wails, and you don’t even fucking know what was going on anymore when she finally kicks you off of her, as your butt lands on the floor.
She’s towering over you now. Her cheeks are blotchy and red, and so are yours. You didn’t realise how hard you were crying until the brief silence forces you to acknowledge it. To acknowledge the way your heart feels both heavy and lighter at the same time. The way Haerin is catching her breath. The way you balance yourself on your elbows.
The way how fucking stupid this all is.
“I know you love him, too,” she says softly, after too long of a silence.
Your breath hitches as your eyes dart to the ceiling.
“Fuck you,” you whisper.
“He loves you and you love him,” she hisses, “You’re so stupid.”
“He doesn’t love me, Haerin,” you seethe, tired when your eyes flutter shut. “If he did then he would’ve chosen me.”
“He chooses you. Every single day,” she sobs, “When you were stuck at that bar. When you were sick at the fair. When you needed someone to teach you how to drive. When you just wanted to hang out. When you call. If it’s you—he’ll always make that choice. Why do you refuse to see what’s right in front of you?”
“Then why did he …” you whisper.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Haerin sobs, and she falls. She falls on top of you with her arms wrapped around your shoulder as you fall back to the ground, allowing her body to crush you. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—”
“Stop fucking apologising,” you grit.
“I never should’ve brought it up—I never should’ve asked him if we should give it a shot. I should’ve never—”
“And what good will that do to us now?” you snap, “Huh? Tell me. Tell me what fucking good will apologising to do us now?”
“I don’t know!” she wails. Her eyes are so fucking swollen that it’s almost painful to look at. There’s not running down her nose and she’s unobstructed when she attempts to blubber her next set of words. “I don’t know anything anymore except for the fact that I’m so fucking lonely and I’m so fucking confused and nothing about this makes sense—”
“Nothing about this makes sense,” you repeat, eyes blinking slowly.
“Yoongi loves you,” she says defeatedly.
And somehow that makes you feel worst. Because he loves you and chose her. He loved you not enough to pick you, to try, but to want to forget. To remove the feeling of love he allegedly has for whatever fucking reason.
And it hurts. It burns. It consumes you whole.
You feel like your heart is about to give out. There’s nothing stopping you from curling into a fetal position and crying until the week ends but the fact that your sister is sobbing her eyes out in front of you. You don’t understand. You didn’t expect the night to end this way.
You didn’t expect anything.
Yoongi still chose Haerin.
He never chose you.
“Please,” she croaks, forcing her swollen eyes to peer up at you while you feel everything in you crumble. All the moments you tried to pretend that seeing Haerin and Yoongi together didn’t crush you. As friends and as more. The moments that you had to hear your parents coo over something Haerin did while silence overtook you. It all came rushing back in. And it hurts. You’re no longer numb. Now all you could do was feel and it fucking sucked.
“You don’t do this to someone you love, Haerin,” you say shakily.
She grabs your shoulders desperately, expression falling into one of anguish.
“I know he loves you. I know,” she cries, “He—it’s my fault—it’s all my fault—”
“Stop blaming yourself,” you rasp.
“You love each other,” Haerin sobs. And you really wished you could tell her to shut the fuck up. Not because you hated her. You don’t think you ever did. You don’t think you ever could. But it was hard to think. It was hard to breathe.
You don’t do this to someone you love.
You don’t want to say anything but you see her eyes droop, indicating her fatigue.
“You and Yoongi,” she mumbles, “I’ll make sure of it.”
You sigh, coming back to reality.
“Get up,” you snap.
She remains put.
“Haerin,” you scowl, “Get the fuck up.”
“No,” she huffs, “Not until you believe me.”
Your eyebrows tick in annoyance. “It’s late and I’m exhausted and everything fucking sucks right now so please—for the love of God just get up and we can talk about this tomorrow.”
“Why won’t you believe me?” she whines.
That was it.
“Because he doesn’t love me, Haerin!” you scream, yanking her up until she was eye-level with you as her eyes widened. “Because it doesn’t make any fucking sense! Because Yoongi can never love me! Because he’s meant to be with you! Because mom and dad think so too! Because of this—this fucked up situation that we’re in and how this is the only time I’ve ever felt close enough to tell you this!”
Haerin sobs, crumbling in your hold even as she tries to keep herself upright. You’re crying now, too. Loud, unobstructed. Ugly.
Maybe you were really sisters.
“You’re lonely and I get that,” you whisper. “But you don’t know how it feels like to be me. To be the other sister. The other person. To have to fight for every place in my life because there wasn’t enough space for the two of us. You don’t fucking know any of that. You want to be me? God—I wish you could. I wish you’d try living in this body and this life to see things the way I do. Then you’d know—know how fucking shitty it is being the other.”
Haerin stays silent because she can’t say anything. You don’t expect her to. You wouldn’t know what to say either. You were word-vomiting; the words that have been locked and compartmentalised in a part of your brain you never thought you’d unlock in front of anyone—especially Haerin.
"You have no idea what it's like to fight for my place in mom and dad's life when I shouldn't have to. You have no fucking idea how it feels like to never be able to amount to anything—just because my older sister is a damn prodigy. You have no idea. So yes. You're lonely—that's sad. But you never had to wonder why the fuck you weren't enough to be loved by your own damned parents."
"Mom and dad are assholes," she says weakly.
"But they're my parents," you hiss as your eyes flutter shut. "They're assholes but I want them to fucking see me. I just want to be fucking seen and—and this—all of this—doesn't make any sense. You being here. You breaking up with him. You claiming he doesn't love you. All of it! Nothing—”
“You’re free,” she interrupts you in a tiny voice. “You want validation but you’re free from it. You don’t need validation.”
“Don’t tell me what the fuck I need or don’t,” you hiss.
“And don’t tell me that you’d rather be controlled for the rest of your life!” she roars loudly, the tiny voice reaching decibels that shook your core. “That you don’t love this freedom—as fucking shitty as it is—more than the reigns that mom and dad would have on you.”
“You think I’m free?” you laugh bitterly, “You think this is freedom? Being trapped in my own thoughts? Unconsciously comparing myself to you every single fucking day of my life because that’s all I’ve been conditioned to do? You think freedom matters when I’ve lost to you in every single aspect?”
“This isn’t a competition!” You hear Haerin exasperate, tugging at her hair in frustration when her eyes blaze at you. “Why—no one wants you to compare yourself to me!”
“No one wants to but they do,” you sneer venomously, “Oh they fucking do Haerin. And I do too. And it sucks. Because when I’m safe from them I’m not safe from me.”
“You—I …”
“This shouldn’t be a competition but it is,” you say despairingly, “I hate that it is but it is. And as fucked up as it sounds you and I both know that you and I were destined to compete with each other because we’re sisters.”
“You think I’ve won this shitty competition but I feel like the biggest fucking loser,” she laughs in a self-deprecating tone, “Mom and dad only love me because of what I’ve done. Not because—not because they do.”
“At least they love you, Haerin,” you say quietly, “At least you’re loved. By them. By people—by Yoongi—”
“When will you get it through your fucking head that Yoongi doesn’t love me? Not in that way!” Haerin snaps, “We’ve been best friends for years and you think I don’t know how he looks like when he’s in love or not?”
You take a deep, shaky breath to regain balance before you're letting out an exhale.
“Yoongi doesn’t love me. He can’t. I’m—” you choke, eyes fluttering shut in defeat. “I’m unloveable—”
“Don’t you dare say that,” she hisses venomously, cupping your cheeks in her hand as you flounder back as you lose your balance. “Don’t you fucking say that.”
“You’ve always been loved!” you sob, tears soaking her fingers as she tries her best to not let new tears flow.
“And that doesn’t fucking matter but don’t you for a second think that you’re unloveable,” she snaps, “You’re not unloveable. No one is unloveable in this damned world and if there was someone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be you.”
“Stop fucking—!”
“I love you!” she screams, “I love you! I love you as your sister! As your friend! As your family!”
“You don’t fucking love me!” you scream back at her, and you’re sure your neighbours were wondering what the fuck was going on.
“Just fucking believe me! Please,” she begs, shaking you desperately as you shake your head in return. “I love you!”
“You can’t love me!” you cry, and it’s so fucking loud. It’s loud and annoying. And it still hurts. It hurts so fucking much that all you can do is cry. "Yoongi can't love me!"
“I can and I will and I do,” she whispers, “I know I’ve been a shitty sister but I’ve never not loved you."
She's forcing herself to look at you and you're forcing yourself to try. Your breathing mixes together, shaky, confused, tired.
"And Yoongi loves you no matter how much you want to deny it because no one does the things he does for you if they weren't in love."
You cry. You break down. You were crying but now you’re crying harder. There was no flow or structure to the screaming fest you just had. But did pain ever have a linear sequence? It didn’t make sense to have your sorrows be chronological.
This was pain. Years of hurt. It’s ugly and truthful, and it does not hide from the strongest. In fact, it comes at you full force. Knocking the wind out of you while you try to catch your breath in a race you were bound to lose.
Haerin holds you. You don’t know when she’s wrapped her arms around you but they’re suddenly there. The both of you are sobbing like little bitches and it’s kind of funny. But you can’t think of the finer details when she squeezes you so tightly that you can’t breathe.
Is this what having a sister feels like?
The calm after the storm is an illusion. You know this. But you’ll take it, for now.
“It’s not Yoongi’s fault,” Haerin says softly.
Your eyes are shut.
“I know.”
“It’s not your fault either.”
You clench your teeth.
“I know.”
“It’s my—”
“And it’s not your fault either,” you interject softly.
Haerin opens her mouth to say something but closes it when she realises you didn’t have the strength to continue.
“We’re fucked up humans aren’t we?” she chuckles humourlessly.
“Isn’t that just being human?”
You look up, and you’re so tired.
Haerin blinks. A smile twitches on your face for some fucked up reason.
And the both of you laugh. You laugh so hard that you’re crying again. You’re cackling, and you hear a series of bangs against your wall that you laugh even harder. You somehow ended up on the floor, staring at the ceiling while you laughed like maniacs at nothing and everything and the in-between.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Me too,” you reply. “For screaming at you.”
“I’m sorry for calling you stupid.”
“Me too.”
“Did we just have our first sister fight?”
You purse your lips. You turn around to see her sitting up, your night light dimly illuminating her face.
“I guess we did,” you say.
"I wished it was about something different," she says quietly.
You pause.
"Like boys?"
She looks up and there's a tilted smile on her face. Her eyes are hilariously swollen that you can't help but let out a snort through your blocked nose. Haerin almost rolls her eyes, but instead, she reaches out—she holds your hand.
And you hold hers.
“Please talk to him."
You stay silent.
“____,” she calls your name gently. Like she cares about you. It’s a tone you’d adopt with a child, a younger sibling when you were a child. It almost feels as if she was trying to speak to you as an older sister, and not just Haerin. “I don’t want you and Yoongi to be on weird terms.”
“We’re not,” you say quietly.
“But you’re thinking. Hard. And not in the good way,” she points out as you sigh, “Don’t blame him.”
Did you? Blame Yoongi? Or did you blame yourself for being this way? For feeling the way you did?
Even if Yoongi seemed like the perfect person to hate, to blame, to back into a corner and scream at him like you did to Haerin—you knew that wasn’t the truth.
Yoongi had always been himself. And despite his fleeting relationship with your sister, he’d never treated you differently. He’d been there for you in moments of true weakness.
It was you who pushed him away from him all this while.
Did you do this to someone you loved?
“I don’t.”
“Talk to him,” she encourages again, gentler. “He loves you, ____. He’d never push you away.”
Your throat hurts but you still want to scream.
He loves me but not enough to try? To ask? To hope?
"And ..." she says slowly, as if contemplating her words. "I'd never push you away. Anymore. Never. Not again."
"Okay," you say quietly.
"And you can talk to me. Because—because we're sisters, right? We're sisters aren't we?"
For the first time, in a long time, from when you knew what sisters were and were meant to be—you can agree.
"Yeah," you laugh quietly, "We are, Haerin. We are sisters."
She gives you a gentle smile, and it returns to relative silence. There are still so many things to say even after all that you've screamed. But you guess that's always going to be the case. Not everything will always be said, and that's okay. You'll grow, you'll have more things to say, to be hurt about, to be annoyed about, to laugh about—and that's only natural.
"Talk to him, ____," Haerin says through a soft mumble. "The two of you deserve to be happy."
You purse your lips.
“If you can’t believe me,” she murmurs. Then she looks up, and it’s the most earnest you’ve seen her all night when she says:
“At least believe him.”
359 notes · View notes
taetaespeaches · a day ago
74 with yoongi? I could melt just fantasizing to this prompt list
“Are you calling me bitter, Kid?”
(request for: "We can share.")
yoongi x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 900+
a/n: So I had the idea a while back that even though Yoongi only drinks decaf now, he would still make Kid her regular coffee every morning. So that's basically what this is but with a good amount of Min/Kid antics. Honestly, I feel like the dialogue is a bit weird and random but we'll just say they're tired lol. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))
Tumblr media
Stepping into the kitchen, you pouted fondly at Yoongi as he handed you a mug of hot coffee, prepared just the way you like it. Despite the man believing it was practically a sin to add any variation of milk and sweetener to a cup of coffee, he never failed to add just the right amounts of both to your mug.
“Thank you, honey boy,” you cooed, Yoongi flashing you a gummy smile as he shook his head. His messy hair from sleeping on it made him look extra soft and cute.
Leaning your hip against the island and standing so you faced your boyfriend, you glanced around at the stone top. “Where’s yours?” You asked, noticing the absence of his own cup. A few months ago, Yoongi had quit drinking his regular coffee and switched it out for decaf, and you, of course, had thought the world was ending. But he was without even his decaffeinated beverage, making you pull your eyebrows together curiously. “Don’t tell me you quit coffee altogether now,” you sighed dramatically, Yoongi chuckling.
“No, I just didn’t realize I was almost out,” he told you nonchalantly, his indifference emphasizing how much he totally didn’t care.
“So you’re out?” You asked, reaching out to pat down some of his strands that were wildly standing upright.
“Just about. There’s not really enough for a cup,” he shrugged as you pouted at him, bringing your hand back around your cup. Smiling at you, he assured you, “it’s ok, I’ll live.”
“Will you?” You teased. “You know, you don’t have to make yourself decaf anyway. We can share,” you said with a grin, giggling when Yoongi rolled his eyes at you. “Just take a sip,” you enticed him.
“You make me do this every morning,” he groaned. However, he entertained your request, as he always did, placing his hands over yours on the mug. You both carefully lifted the mug to his lips so he could take the smallest of drinks, the man immediately scrunching his features at the taste.
“I have to keep reminding you of what you’re missing,” you joked, ignoring his expression. “Decaf,” you rolled your eyes.
“It’s not just that it’s caffeinated, you like too much sugar,” he continued to wince.
“You need a little bit of sugar to sweeten you up,” you sassed back, taking another drink for yourself, humming as it hit your taste buds.
Making your way around the island, you felt Yoongi’s eyes follow you. Taking a seat, you looked up at him, smiling at the sight.
“I like it black,” he pointed out quietly, a slight pout on his lips.
“Bitter," you corrected. "And yeah, yeah, we know,” you told him playfully.
“Who’s we?” He asked, his eyebrows raised.
Biting back a grin, though his lips couldn't help but curve upward, he sighed. “Are you calling me bitter, Kid?”
Shaking your head, you pouted innocently. “No, but you want everyone to think you’re a grumpy old man when you’re actually a honey boy with a grumpy old man’s attitude but with a honey boy's heart,” you rambled, fully aware the sentence barely made any sense. It was still early, maybe, just maybe, he’d let it slide.
“Are you drunk?” He asked, a smile lingering on his lips as he teased you. Ok, so he wouldn’t let it slide.
“No.” Taking another drink, you held back your own grin.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s 7 am,” you retorted. He shrugged as though it could be possible. “Do you want to fight me?” You playfully asked.
“Maybe,” he replied simply. A warmth settled in your tummy as butterflies erupted throughout your body. You loved this banter, loved starting your day with it.
“I love you,” you said suddenly, nonchalantly.
“I love you, too. Now, shh," he silenced you, bringing his finger to his lips. "You'll say something else that makes zero sense and I'll have to call you on it again,” he said with a teasing grin.
Pulling a look of offense, you glared at him once again. “First of all, rude. Second of all, this attitude is exactly why you need to start your day off with some sweetness.”
He sighed, resting his forearms on the countertop. “Love you.”
“Love you more,” you grinned at him.
“Stop,” he protested, a forced scowl and a natural pout meeting on his face.
Giggling, you suddenly reached for your bag that sat atop the counter. He watched you in silence, awaiting your explanation or to see what you were grabbing. When you pulled your hand out, you held a bag of decaffeinated coffee beans.
“I noticed you were running low so I ran by the store and got you some on my way home yesterday,” you smiled. “Just wanted to mess with you before I gave them to you,” you told him, gloating about your successful teasing as you wiggled your shoulders at him.
Scoffing at you, he reached across the island and took the coffee beans from you. “You’re the best.”
Smiling at him, you reached for your coffee and brought it towards your mouth. “Told you I love you more,” you smiled behind the mug.
“Stop,” he whined through a barely there smile, the man fighting it from blossoming into that gummy grin you adored so much.
As you watched him shuffle from the island to the coffee grinder, you couldn’t help but follow his every sleepy and gentle move with an adoring gaze. He was just too cute, and you were just too in love.
“I love you most,” he suddenly spoke with his back to you, and you just knew the gummy grin had curved on his lips. Too cute.
261 notes · View notes
madameright · 21 hours ago
Tumblr media
[Word Count: 235
Reader x Jungkook]
"You're really annoying you know that?"
You glared at Jungkook and if looks could kill--He'd be dead on the spot. All you got in response is that adorable smile with his eyes shining as if he didn't put you in this position.
He shrugged lightly. "You asked me to, sweetie. I was just following orders."
"Since when do you listen to orders?"
Jungkook didn't answer. He just handed over whatever he had behind his back to you. It was a neck pillow. Thank God. After the night you had you needed it.
He held your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you put it on. His hands went to your face to gently caress it after letting your hair go. He gave your cheeks a pinch as you pouted.
He pressed a kiss to an apple of your cheek.
Another kiss to your other cheek.
He kissed your nose.
He squished your cheeks together and kissed your lips. Then kissed all over your face. You, however, were unamused.
"Jeon Jeongguk." You tried to hide your smile at his affection. "I am still mad at you."
"I know, but I also know that you wouldn't change anything." He gave you a cheeky look.
"...That's....irrelevant." You huffed. "I didn't actually expect you to fuck me so hard that my neck hurt."
Jungkook cackled loudly as he threw his body back onto the bed.
this was inspired by a tiktok by Chrissy Chlapecka where she talked about how she got fucked so hard her neck hurt lmao
61 notes · View notes
cypherhailo · 2 days ago
chapter three
Tumblr media
- series: champ
- pairing: boxer! jungkook x journalist! reader
- word count: 1502
- warnings: none
previous | next | masterlist
a/n: a bit lengthy update to make up for the last few weeks that i've been ia :) enjoy <3
after heading back home from the training facility, jungkook cleaned himself up and fed his dog, driving to a local nightclub he would meet his friends at. getting into the club, he kept his head slightly down, trying to hide his identity so he wouldn’t get recognized, although some people were bound to notice him anyways. after all, he was one of the most famous boxers in his country.
“jungkook!” taehyung greeted his friend with a handshake and a hug, jungkook doing the same with yoongi. jungkook put his hood down, and sat at the table with his friends. “have they talked to you about your next fight?” taehyung asked jungkook, taking a sip from his beer bottle.
jungkook cleared his throat, “no, not yet. it’ll probably be about five to six months. which is fine with me. gives me more time to rest and get into better shape.” he nods, “i know you have yours next week,” he points at taehyung, “what about you, yoongi?”
“in three months,” yoongi replied. “maybe you should start laying off the beer” taehyung jokingly responded, causing jungkook to laugh and yoongi glaring at both of them.
the continuing hors of the night the three friends sat together, participating in conversations, with the loud music booming in their ears. jungkook stood at the bar waiting for his round of drinks. he was in the middle of grabbing his drinks, when a girl tapped on his shoulder.
“hi... can i have your autograph?” she waved a small piece of ripped paper with a pen as jungkook nodded. “of course.” jungkook smiled at her. he was used to having fans come up to him almost everywhere he went. even though it got annoying, he never had the heart to say no.
“okay, who is this to?” he looked up at the young girl with a smile. “ari! my name is ari” she replied as jungkook nodded, writing the message on the piece of paper. passing it back to her, she thanked him multiple times, before scurrying off to the other side of the bar.
he was about to grab his drinks and go back to his friends, when across the bar he spotted a familiar face sitting next to a guy with brown hair.
it was y/n, and you looked beautiful. he assumed you were with your boyfriend, but seemed to be at each other’s throats. he saw you both arguing and you looked close to tears, and no one noticed because of the loud music. his mind told him to go back to his friends and act like he never saw anything, but his heart told him to go over and make sure everything was okay.
jungkook finally grabbed his drinks, and walked back to his friends, who were in the middle of discussing their upcoming fights. “What took you so long?” taehyung looked up at him, as yoongi grabbed his drink.
“just fans.. you know” gesturing to the bar behind him, “i’m gonna go to the restroom.” he said to them, quickly making his way through the busy club. he watched as you rushed outside, and the guy you were with walking over to the bar, standing next to and talking with a different girl.
he followed you outside, watching as you stood with your phone to your ear, noticing a few tears running down your cheeks. he slowly walked up to you, tapping your shoulder.
“what?” assuming it was your boyfriend, you replied without looking up, hanging up on the taxi you were trying to call. “is everything okay?” you immediately recognized that voice. jungkook. looking up from your phone, he stood next to you, looking at you with so much concern. “oh, i’m..”
“jungkook... jeon jungkook.” a middle aged man interrupted you, tapping jungkook in the shoulder, “i’m a big fan, can i get a picture?” he asked jungkook, just as he saw you slightly roll your eyes and turn back around.
“maybe later, i’m kind of in the middle of something,” jungkook nodded at the man, “stick around, i’ll find you later.” the man nodded, “sorry for interrupting,” he nodded his head and walked back into the club.
you faced jungkook again, “are you really going to find him later?” you looked up at him.
“he’ll probably get so drunk, and forget he even met me.” jungkook replied, watching you smile in response. he enjoyed watching you smile, it made you look so beautiful.
“well,” you shook your head, “how can i help you?” apart of you couldn’t help but wonder what a man like him, so well known and talented, was even bothering with you. “just wanted to make sure you were okay. i saw what happened with that guy.” jungkook replied as you chuckled.
“you were watching me?” you folded your arms. the dress you were wearing clinged onto your body, contrasting with your soft beautiful skin. jungkook couldn’t lie, he would love to run his hands up and down your body.
“well, i noticed you… and he looked like he was giving you a hard time.” he admitted and you nodded. “Yeah, well he definitely is hard work.” you scoffed, “he told me we were going out to a nice restaurant, and i didnt find out we were coming here until we got in the taxi.” jungkook nodded, “now, i just want to go home.” you told him, hugging your arms.
“i can call you a taxi, it’ll be here in a few minutes.” jungkook began taking his phone out. “i don’t need your services, i can wait for you.” you told him.
“okay,” jungkook put his phone back in his pocket, “then i’ll wait with you” noticing the small smile across your face. you told him he didn’t have to, but jungkook insisted. he seemed so much more relaxed than when you were interviewing him. he was kind and made you feel safe.
“also, i wanted to say thank you… for not twisting my words in the interview.” jungkook said as you shook your head. “yeah, not all of us do that. i wish the headline was different, but i’m not in charge of that.” you chuckled, “but, i was grateful that you let me into your home, and the absolute last thing i wanted to do was twist your words.” you smiled at him, “didn’t want you to get all up in my face.” you joked as jungkook turned to face you.
“are you used to that? having someone yelling at you like that?” jungkook asked her, recalling the ugly argument he saw you in, you shook your head. “don’t be so ridiculous, jungkook” you looked away from him. “i’ll tell you what, y/n-” jungkook took your purse, you raised your eyebrows at him, watching as he took your phone out, and handed it to you. once you put in your passcode, he took it from you and put his phone number in your contacts, and he did the same on his phone.
“i think you know that i’m in a relationship so… i don’t want your number.” you told him, as he put your phone back in your purse, and handed it to you. “i know,” jungkook nodded, “just keep it. if anyone gives you trouble or you need anything, just call me.” you laughed, “and if you're… oh, i don’t know… in the middle of a meeting?” you looked up at him, “a busy man like you wont have time to check on me.” jungkook looked at you, “i’ll make time for you>”
you could tell jungkook hid a piece of himself away when his fiancé passed away, but that piece of him was dying to come out. a man like him, so mesmerizing, shouldn't have to hide any part of himself.
“here’s a cab, y/n.” you broke eye contact, as jungkook walked over to the cab and opened the door for you. “thank you, jungkook.” you smiled at him, sliding into the back seat of the cab. you watched him as he closed the door, and stood back.
jungkook watched as you got settled into the cab. the more he saw you, or thought of you, the more interested he got. he had to move on, and he wanted to, but no one had appealed to him like you did. and he despised the idea of your current boyfriend mistreating you. he would take care of you. he would take care of you, your body, your soul.
but it was complicated. you were in a relationship, and the last thing he wanted was the media finding out he was chasing after a woman in a relationship. getting you seems impossible at the moment, but having you as a friend and checking up on you wasn't.
after giving the taxi driver your address, he pulls the taxi away from the curb and onto the street to take you home from the night that ended better than you had expected, all thanks to him.
red means tumblr won't let me tag you :(
[send ask or reply to post to be added to taglist!]
taglist: @gukkmoans @sugainpinksweater @fangirl125reader @lvstcd @j-m12344 @fan-ati--c @axurio @poguesbau @yoonabeo @mwitsmejk @zae007live @stanny-uwu @rikaxyu
53 notes · View notes
dulcebangtan · 2 days ago
also i’m here to request again if that’s okay :] i’ve been feeling a bit down lately so i was wondering if you can write a poly relationship of the boys x reader where you’re going thru a bit of a hard time and your seven boyfriends notices and then they pamper you ? a bit of angst with a lot of fluff <3 tysm
- 🤎
i hope you're feeling better ! i love this request :D
sweet comfort | ot7 x reader [scenario - f, a]
Tumblr media
you had a rough day, but your hoyfriends instantly come to cheer you up.
poly relationship!au
warnings: a tiny bit of angst
genre: fluff and angst
word count: 384
link to masterlist
you've been feeling down lately; with the stress of work and school, you succumbed to your stresses and found yourself crying your eyes out after getting home from work one evening. 
one of your seven boyfriends, jin, heard you crying, peeking his head into your room. "what's wrong, my love?" he softly asked you as he walked into the room. you looked over at him and sadly shook your head, waving him off and telling him that you were fine. 
"you were literally crying, y/n. did you have a rough day today?" jin asked you as he embraced you, rubbing soothing circles into your back. you pouted, looking up at jin and slowly nodding. 
just then, hoseok walked by, noticing the solemn moment you and jin were sharing. he walked in, asking what was wrong. 
"i just had a rough day, hobi, that's all," you sighed, smiling a little when hoseok pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 
"i'm sorry to hear that, baby. is there anything that we can do for you?" hoseok asked you as jin continued to hug you. you thought for a moment, shrugging afterwards; you just wanted your boyfriends to hold you until you felt better. 
hoseok and jin coaxed you to join them in the living room to cuddle. you sat on hoseok's lap, intertwining your fingers with jin's and smiling at him. the others must have been informed of your sadness, as the rest of them walked into the living room to comfort you and join in on the cuddles. 
"here, baby," namjoon said as he handed you your favorite snack and drink. you thanked him, smiling when yoongi and taehyung came over with a bouquet of flowers for you. 
"my loves" you giggled, feeling flustered from all the attention that you were getting. "this is all so much, i don't deserv-"
"yes, you do deserve it," jimin gently interjected, smiling up at you as he laid his head across your lap. 
"yeah! jimin is right, baby. you had a rough day so you deserve all of our love," jungkook cheerfully adred as he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 
you felt elated, repeatedly thanking your boyfriends as they showered you with their love and attention; you couldn't have been more grateful for them. 
43 notes · View notes
jikookao3recs · 2 days ago
canon compliant (part 2)
i can be your genie by KimchiNoona
Quarantine Christmas by Mesmerize (Alice_Novelland)
Carve Into My Hollow Chest by Carmenlire
shameless by googiesunbaenim
Lo-fi and Your Lips by wonce_km
zero hour by eaden
"Maybe You Need an Ice Pack" by Sitra_Ahra
on the edge by orphan_account
do me by minfics (orphan_account)
All the Love in the World by kittyganggang
Running Running (Just to Keep My Hands on You) by miss_begonia
Stolen Kisses Under the Sheets by Goldcnn
Should have kissed you when we were alone by papa_ya
the future is ours by namakemono
Vacancy by Tei_Chan
Time Well Spent (for the most part) by jimigukayo
With You by mimkoo
37 notes · View notes
syubseokie · 2 days ago
three strikes (drabble) | knj
Tumblr media
three strikes
― pairing: fem!reader x namjoon (kim namjoon)
― genre: fluff, drabble
― warnings: none really. does 2015 namjoon’s infatuation with red converse high tops count? LOL
― summary: namjoon had been lost in his own world when he tripped on an uneven path and landed in front of a pair of red converse highs. strike one.
the one where namjoon meets his 2015 ideal type in 2021.
― notes: this is an edited version of my 2015 drabble ‘three strikes’.
Kim Namjoon was a romantic. In fact, he often talked about his ideal type; someone tall with a nice voice and could rock a white shirt, jeans and a pair of red high top Converse ― the last part being more important than the rest. So, when he tripped and fell head over Converse for you, he believed it be fate.
Namjoon was lost in his own world when he, in true Namjoon-fashion, tripped mid-walk, taking an accidental tumble, and landed in front of your scuffed red Converse high tops. He all-too-quickly pushed himself up from the pavement, accidentally head-butting you as you bent down to help him, and when he heard the pained “Ow, fuck!” fall from your lips, followed by the sound of your drink splattering to the ground, he wished he had tripped and cracked open his head instead.
God of Destruction, he thought with dismay, awkwardly getting to his feet.
When he had gathered his bearings, he looked over and saw you half-lying on the pavement, rubbing your chin and frowning at the concrete where the remaining contents of your drink lay wasted. His gaze travelled over those damned red shoes, your blue acid wash jeans and baggy white shirt, to your face, and when his eyes locked with yours, his breath hitched in his throat.
Strike one.
What followed after were numerous apologies and questions regarding your minor injury. Namjoon swore he must have cracked open his head, died, and went to heaven when you spoke to him. Your voice was so clear and soft that it made him want to wrap himself in cotton sheets and roll around in a grassy meadow. So far, you had managed to tick all the boxes of what he would call his ‘Miss Right’ in less than thirty seconds, and Namjoon was more than a little desperate to know your name and more.
“I’m really sorry for knocking your chin,” he mumbled shyly while nervously scratching the back of his head. “And for spilling your coffee. Is it alright if I buy you another one?”
You checked your watch, unsure, but your eyes widened when you realised the time. “I can’t do it right now” you apologised and Namjoon’s face fell a little, “I’m actually late for an appointment, but if it’s okay with you, I can give you my number so we can arrange something?”
The male was momentarily stunned until he realised your hand was outstretched, patiently waiting for him to give his phone. In a daze, he unlocked his device and waited as you put your details in. When you handed his phone back, you offered him a shy, nervous smile. “I have to go but text me. I’d really like to get coffee.”
Before he could respond, you hurried off. It took him a few moments to register what had just transpired, but when he glanced down at his phone and saw your name and number in his contact list, there was a blossoming feeling in his chest. He whispered your name aloud, secretly loving the way it sounded rolling off his tongue. Raising his gaze in the direction you had gone, he was shocked to see you standing on the corner of the street staring back at him with a shy smile on your face as you waved your phone.
Strike two.
[unknown] 15:23
hey, this is kim namjoon, we met earlier today after i almost took us both out on the footpath. hopefully this number isn’t a fake as i was hoping i could buy you another coffee for accidentally destroying the one you had today. sorry about that again, btw. let me know :)
ngl i was starting to think you weren’t going to text and i’d have to internet stalk you and remind you that you owe me a coffee. im free tomorrow at 1pm. meet you at the place we first met?
What followed were morning coffee meetups, random walks in the park, and midnight food runs. Namjoon learned you were a second year university student, so the university library was also added to the list of places the two of you frequented. He also discovered that you had spent time overseas, could speak four languages, and although you preferred R&B music, you loved to sing classic eighties and nineties rock.
The more time you spent together, the more Namjoon found himself falling deeper and deeper. Everything about you was interesting and it made him childishly giddy when you had shown an interest in his passion for writing and music.
It had happened one night when the two of you were sitting in one of the study rooms at the university library eating pizza. You were working on a presentation assignment while Namjoon was seated next to you, using your campus wifi and occasionally scribbling some words down in a notebook. You noticed that he took this particular notebook everywhere with him and you were curious about its purpose. After sneaking a peek at what he was writing and pestering him about what the words meant, Namjoon admitted that he enjoyed writing songs and hoped to one day perform them. His shy confession melted your heart and you felt pride and special that he felt comfortable enough to share that piece of information with you.
“You’re different from most guys I know.”
Namjoon’s expression was confused by your comment. “What do you mean?”
You shrugged, biting into another slice of pizza. “You’re insightful and you have your head screwed on the right way. You’re also ridiculously smart and the way you articulate your thoughts fascinates me. When you talk, I want to stop and listen to what you have to say, no matter how mundane you think it is.”
You paused as if debating your next words.
“It’s one of the reasons why I like you.”
Namjoon almost choked on his pizza when he heard you utter those words. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and he nervously began scratching at the back of his head. “You like me?” He asked bashfully.
“Yeah,” you replied nonchalantly. “And not in the friend-zoned way.”
That was another of the many reasons why Namjoon liked you. Blunter than an unsharpened, overused knife, your words were straight to the point but said in a way that the receiver could not misconstrue the meaning behind them. Silence ensued as your confession hung in the air. You weren’t really expecting a response; your words were simply a matter of fact. So, you finished your pizza slice and continued working.
Namjoon, on the other hand, was trying not to freak out. Whilst he knew he needed to say something, he was still stuck on processing your words.
You liked him.
You liked him.
You liked him.
Three simple words that held so much sentiment and was making his heart beat irregularly. You liked him. And not in the friend-zoned way, he chuckled internally. After a couple of minutes, when he felt his chest unclench just a little, he cleared his throat and answered with, what he hoped was, an equally casual tone;
“I like you too. And not in the friend-zoned way, either.”
A small smile starting from the corner of your lips appeared, and ever-so-discreetly, with your eyes trained on your laptop screen, your hand found its way to Namjoon’s right, and squeezed it reassuringly.
Strike three. You’re out.
a/n: hiya!
so this edited/re-written version of my 2015 drabble of the same name was inspired by bts' song 'Converse High' from their HYYH PT.1 album. back in the day, it was written in an interview that joonie's ideal type was someone tall, had a nice/good voice, and wore jeans, a white tshirt and red converses. that is most likely no longer the case, but i remember writing the original piece during a uni lecture because i had 'converse high' as my morning alarm and couldn't really get the song out of my head. it was actually one of my favourite early pieces because it was light, fluffy, and a product of procrastination. re-writing it gave me a sense of nostalgia and i actually ended up re-playing the album on loop during the re-writing process.
i mentioned in my last published piece that i have started brain-storming a mini series and i may actually spend some time fleshing that out. at this stage i am still trying to write everyday so i'm not actually sure what my next published work will be but i'm excited to share with you all!
again, thank you so much for reading my work. I’m always open to thoughts and feedback, so feel free to drop a like, reblog or send me a message!
please look forward to my other work ♡
masterlist | ao3 | twitter
28 notes · View notes
ppersonna · 8 months ago
swipe right - jjk | m
Tumblr media
“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers
♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?
♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)
♡ word count- 9k
♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.
♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!
Tumblr media
Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.
He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.
Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.
Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.
“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  
You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”
“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”
You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.
“I’m at our park.”
Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.
“Give me five minutes, okay?”
You nod, even though he can’t see you. 
Tumblr media
Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.
He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.
You still look so beautiful.
And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.
He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.
“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.
He sniffs haughtily. 
“The trash added character.”
Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.
“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.
He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.
“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”
You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.
“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”
Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.
“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.
“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.
“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.
Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.
He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.
“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”
“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  
“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”
Tumblr media
As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.
You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 
“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 
He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 
“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 
Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 
“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 
You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 
“You call Jimin a prince?” 
Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 
“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 
You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?
“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 
“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 
You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 
“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 
“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 
Tumblr media
Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 
It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 
The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 
Tumblr media
The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 
Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 
Tumblr media
“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”
Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 
The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 
He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 
His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 
He just matched with YOU. 
His best friend. 
His secret, lifelong crush. 
He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 
YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!
He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 
JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?
You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 
Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 
JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀
Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 
A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 
YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies
Tumblr media
“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 
Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 
“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”
You huff. 
“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”
Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 
“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.
There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 
“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”
You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 
“It’s nothing!” 
“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 
“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”
“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 
You roll your eyes. 
“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”
“I’ll be expecting your call later.”
“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”
“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”
You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.
“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.
You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.
So, why do you care so much about what you wear?
You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.
Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?
The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.
You shake all thoughts off. 
No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.
You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.
With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.
JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!
ME: See you soon!
Tumblr media
Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.
Is he too casual?
He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.
Maybe it’s too much.
Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.
Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.
He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.
He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.
It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.
You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.
“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.
He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.
You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 
It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.
“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.
“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.
“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.
“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.
“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 
In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.
“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”
His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 
“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”
The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”
A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.
“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 
You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.
“Well, are we going?”
Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.
But he resists.
“Let’s go!”
Tumblr media
You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 
But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 
Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 
But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 
Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.
And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 
It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 
“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 
Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 
You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 
“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”
Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 
Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 
As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.
“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.
Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.
“What? We were going to get ice cream?”
You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.
You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.
“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.
His body stiffens.
“Okay, let me walk you home.”
You shake your head, already moving away from the man.
“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.
Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.
Tumblr media
You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.
“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.
“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”
“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.
“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.
“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 
Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.
“We’re on our way over.”
Tumblr media
Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.
Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.
Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.
“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”
Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.
“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”
Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.
“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”
Jimin nods knowingly.
“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”
“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”
Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 
“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  
You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 
“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”
Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”
Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”
Tumblr media
Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.
You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.
Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 
speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.
“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.
You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.
“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”
Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 
“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”
“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”
“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”
Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.
“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 
“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”
You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.
“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”
“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.
He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”
“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”
He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.
“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”
“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”
“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”
You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.
He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.
He can’t watch you run away from him again.
Tumblr media
“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”
Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.
“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  
He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.
The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.
“Hi Kook.”
The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.
It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 
Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.
Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.
“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”
Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.
The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.
“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”
He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.
“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”
He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 
“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”
The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 
“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”
He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.
The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.
“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”
The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.
The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.
“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”
The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 
“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”
His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 
He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.
“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”
Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.
Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.
Tumblr media
The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.
It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.
It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 
Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.
Maybe it was too late.
You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 
“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”
“You should have brought a jacket.”
The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.
He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.
He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.
“You came.”
He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.
“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.
“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”
He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”
You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.
“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.
“Every word.”
His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.
“Why did you run away?” Another step.
You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.
“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”
One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 
“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”
You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”
All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 
“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 
“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 
Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 
“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 
“I would like it if you would.”
As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 
Tumblr media
“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 
“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 
“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”
Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 
Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.
“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 
“Really? I couldn’t tell.”
He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 
“You’re such a little smartass.”
His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 
He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 
“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 
You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 
“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 
Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 
“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 
His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 
“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 
“Feels pretty real, huh?”
Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 
“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 
Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 
One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 
“How about this? Not a dream?”
He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 
“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”
You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 
“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 
“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 
You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 
“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”
He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 
“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 
He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 
Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 
“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”
Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 
“Still dreaming?” 
He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 
“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.
You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 
“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”
Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 
“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”
His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 
His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.
“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 
His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.
“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 
Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 
“I plan to find out everything.” 
Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.
“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.
“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 
He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 
He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 
“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 
Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 
He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  
He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 
“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 
His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 
“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 
He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.
His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.
One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.
“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”
His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.
“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.
“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”
Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.
“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”
He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.
“And I need you, my love.”
“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”
Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.
“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 
He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.
After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 
“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”
You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.
“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”
He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”
“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”
He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”
A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.
“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”
“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”
Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.
“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”
You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.
“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”
Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.
“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”
“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”
Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.
“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”
Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.
“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”
He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.
“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”
You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.
“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 
He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.
“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”
The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 
“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”
A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.
He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.
“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”
With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.
“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”
You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”
His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 
He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.
Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.
After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.
“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”
You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.
“All yours.”
Tumblr media
“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 
You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.
You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.
“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”
Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.
“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”
Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”
Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 
You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.
“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.
“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”
Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.
Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.
“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”
You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.
“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”
Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.
“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”
You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.
“Sure, Kookie.”
He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”
Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”
Tumblr media
tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 
Tumblr media
© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.
5K notes · View notes
nochueso · 4 months ago
Rich People Shit
Tumblr media
➱ summary: I really just wanted to write rich!Jungkook. Jungkook approaches you with a proposition of friendship. He wants to spoil you shitless with designer everything, and you both end up really fucking liking each other.
➱ word count: 11k
➱ genres: smut, fluff, rich!jk x reader
➱ includes: cursing, unprotected sex (be safe out there yall), virgin!jk, virgin!reader, literally smut idk what to say rlly you're either gonna read it or not lol!
Silently, you sat on the steps of the entrance to a very pristine, very flamboyant, and affluent University. You never thought you’d ever be here nor did you think you’d be sitting on its steps– like an actual student. Yet, here you sit, quietly, mysteriously, with a dash of pride, paging through the “Luxury” magazine in your lap. You sighed for a second, looking away from the glossy pages to take in your surroundings from the top of your sunglasses. You squinted, watching the students parade by. You could tell, you weren’t like them, you may even never be. You may dress like them, talk like them, walk like them, act like them, but on the inside you are not one of them.
On paper, you are not one of them either. You are not a student here.
You looked back at your magazine.
Surely, you applied last year, friends and family pestered you to at least give it a try, then you had actually thought you had a chance. But you see, when you’re not a trust fund baby, or have parents with cash basically flowing out of their assholes, then you really did not have a chance at this school built on classism and wealth. So why were you even here? The thing is, you might actually be a mastermind, or you may just be naively stupid.
You came here to fish.
You were still a student, just not here, your shabbier university– for the commoners– was just a few blocks away, so it was always easy for you to come here between classes, to get your work done, or just contemplate nothing.
There isn’t a pond or lake at this school, nor is there a river or fishing pier. You came here for a very specific kind of fish. Fish without gills. Fish that don’t spend their lives in water. Fish that can walk. Fish with a specific kind of gait that oozes an overflowing bank account. A handsome little fish. A handsome little fish that can make your dreams of owning pieces of fucking name brand clothing true.
Some Gucci to be specific. You like Gucci, maybe even some Dior, and Alexander Wang. You nodded silently at the reminder of your motives.
Today was your fourth Thursday sitting on these god awful steps that pierced your ass bones. Pelvis? Who cares, you’re not an anatomy major. If that’s even a thing– biology, pre-med, most likely is what it’s called.
That means this is your fourth week, and it’s once again coming to a near end. Four weeks. Still no fish. You remind yourself that fishing requires patience. Fishing requires a careful skill of observation and strict mental control. You need to be ready for the slightest tug. The slightest tug of your prey taking the bait you’ve so carefully laid out for them. Your bait was you of course. Who wouldn’t want a taste of you? Well...that wasn’t the best question to ask. Let’s rephrase that. Who wouldn’t want a taste of a classy mystery woman sitting on the steps of a school where only cream of the crop students go? That sounded better. You were oozing confidence out of your pores as you sat on those demonic stairs, your black sunglasses shielding your eyes from the cloudy sky. And your outfit, oh golly gee your outfit... Only the best of the best from your closet ever gets to see these steps. These fucking ste–
“What language is that?”
In the midst of your tumultuous thoughts, you failed to take note of the random stranger who came to sit to your left. Nonchalantly staring over to your magazine, seemingly interested in whatever the hell you were reading. You questioned whether you should even look over, whether you should feign ignorance to push your “mystery” woman agenda. You didn’t have very strong self-restraint. So you turned...slightly. Your face in the direction of his feet, your eyes are however on his.
Jesus, this man was fucking hot. Diabolically so. You had a hot flash just by looking at him. You started getting dizzy too, there were stars flying around him. Perhaps you just got hemorrhoids from how satanically sexy this man was in the face. And you didn’t even get to the rest of him yet. You hoped the rest of him wouldn’t disappoint you. You see, perfect people are rare, it’s either they have a pretty face or a pretty bod. He probably had a missing toe or something with that perfect face of his.
Your answer was simple. Disregard.
You flipped to the next page. Your hands are nearly shaking from the pressure of this ridiculously gorgeous man’s eyes on you. You could feel him drilling holes through you with those evil brown sex eyes. You tried to steady yourself, as unnoticeably as possible. ‘Remember your goal, remember your destiny!’ The voice inside your head yelled.
When he didn’t leave, even after you had ignored his existence, and effect on you, this was your chance to find out if the fish really took the bait and got fucking stuck on it.
“Is there something you need?” You trailed your eyes back to him, once again feigning distaste and annoyance.
He looked down for a bit. You bit your bottom lip, not sure whether you had hurt him with your words. Then he looked out towards the green park in front of you both: a number of students having picnics and walking around in friend groups.
“Trying to talk to people today is so hard. No one wants a stranger coming up to them, it’s not normal anymore. Everyone meets on instagram and snapchat and twitter, sliding into DMs and all that.” He speaks in a low voice, melancholic almost. His elbows on the steps behind him, resting. Fuck he was sexy. You could tell he was genuine. He got up. Shit shit shit shit.
He placed his hands in his pockets, “Just wanted to talk to a pretty girl.” He smiled, his eyes drowning you in guilt. With that he turned around, slowly stepping down the stairs.
“It’s French.” You called out after him. the classic romance language you had chosen to learn as your language requirement. It’s not like you understood much of it, but looking at pretty pictures and deciphering a word and a sentence every now and then was fun, and you used it to convince yourself that you were actually learning from it. You weren’t.
His head turned back towards you, rapidly, with one of the most magnificent smiles you’d ever laid eyes upon. The butterflies in your stomach were having a field day. He came back and sat next to you, this time a bit closer. Close enough to where you could smell him. A sweet smell, not the usual smell of cologne that most men wore. He was wearing ladies perfume. It was odd, but it made you feel more relaxed, like there was no way this man could ever do anything wrong.
“So, are you a linguist major here?” He badgered you with another question. Like a child that had just won a prize at a carnival game. Why he was making assumptions about you was beyond you. It was a bit bothersome though, you never liked when people would ask assumptive questions, why don’t they let you give the details.
“I’m not, if we’re going to talk please stop making assumptions.” You sighed.
“Sorry. My name is Jungkook. And now I’m gonna stop talking and let you tell me about yourself instead...if you want to. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Nervous, that was cute.
“Well...” You looked at him. Unsure of what to tell him. You didn’t want to lie. You hated lying, and you didn’t understand the point of it. Why lie about yourself to others when you can just hide the truth. When you can be deceiving just by saying the right things and leaving the rest out. However though, you were feeling rather bold today, like, you didn’t really give a fuck. Though his face looked so fucking kissable, delectable, ravishing, his outift was rather plain, and one thing you knew about the kids at this school was that they didn’t love anything more than to show off with daddy’s money. The man before you was just wearing a black shirt, black baggy pants and black sneakers. Very simple. Was he just being modest perhaps? Humble. Or was he one of the affirmative action kids? A super smart athlete from a poor home on a full scholarship? Or maybe just a smart kid that got in from his own diligence, from a lower middle class family?
“I’m fishing.” Your words made him raise his eyebrows, perplexed.
“Fishing for what?” You were expecting him to assume something again, but he didn’t, he kept his word, letting you answer.
“Rich little assholes with too much money to spend, so I can offer some assistance in spending that money.” Your eyes squinted with a hint of evil genius.
He laughed. A roar almost. His head was thrown back and his teeth, eerily similar to those of a bunny’s, were now on display, he’s adorable. You flushed, elated, that you made this beautiful human being laugh. You could add this to your bucket list and check it off now if you even had one, ‘1. Make a super, incredibly, sexy, hot, cute, handsome, pretty guy laugh.’ In the box next to it a little check mark to display your success. But your mouth turned into a frown, confused on why he was laughing at your meticulously thought out plan that was sure to score you some sweet sweet cash.
“How’s that going for you?” He said through giggles.
“Not great, haven’t gotten a single fish yet, unfortunately.”
“Why are you doing this, if I may ask?”
“Well, it’s not like I want to get married to them or anything. I guess my reasoning is quite materialistic. I just want some Gucci pieces that I’ve been thinking of for the last two months. I’ve got five-k in my savings, and half the shit on here costs five thousand bucks.” You slap the magazine page in front of you with the back of your palm, like an old smoker upset that his lighter is out of fluid. “The other half more than that. So I had to devise a plan, obviously.” You shrug as if it were obvious and you were explaining to a five year old. You just spilled the entirety of your reasoning to this man you’ve known for five minutes. You should’ve stopped yourself, but there was just something about him that made you tell all the truth, not just tiny bits of it.
That was all he said to you, no laugh this time, not even a giggle or a smile. This time he just looked at you. Glazed over you. Studied you. You felt nervous. You removed your sunglasses, in hopes of looking less ridiculous on a cloudy day. You didn’t notice it, but his eyes sharpened. You worried that you may have scared him off, maybe he was a rich prick and your poverty disgusted him.
Jungkook thought that he had scored. He’d noticed you the first day you sat on those stairs, those stairs that were too tough to sit on, so you were usually the only one on them, he wondered if you were actually comfortable. You were impossible not to be noticed, but maybe that was just him. He always saw you paging through a new magazine, he wondered if you were a fashion student, the way you dressed and the specific magazines that you always seemed to bring.
One could say he had created narratives in his head about you, he gave you a personality, a name, a major, he undressed you with his ey–
He wanted to get to know you. He had spent his past time between classes in his usual spot by the tall, ancient tree at the edge of the park placed perfectly in front of you. And so, he spent each day there, and so did you, and he was delighted to know that he would see you each day, except on weekends. The class he would leave to come here, Economics 101, a pain in the ass, but it ended at 11:45 am every other day. So on the days he had this class, he would be prepared to speed walk, sometimes even sprint out of the classroom at precisely 11:45 each time. He was always the first to walk through the exit doors, just so he wouldn’t miss a single second to see you. Maybe it was creepy, or maybe it was just what they called “Le coup de foudre” he mouthed. Love at first sight.
He knew you weren’t a student here because every student here had tried sitting on those stairs every once in a while, but they’d always find a better place around campus to idle in. You, on the other hand, always returned to the exact same spot, but he couldn’t figure you out. He couldn’t understand why you constantly returned there. So one final day, he ventured out, to finally crack the case, and shatter every other possible story he had created in his mind palace, and perhaps build a real one, where it would be just you and him.
“French,” you had said. But he obviously already knew this. Who couldn’t recognize one of the most famous languages to exist on this earth. He hoped you didn’t think he was stupid, but it would be fare anyways, since you were holding the magazine upside down. He was relieved though, that you had called out for him to return. You gave him a chance, and he wouldn’t waste it.
You shared your diabolical evil genius plan with him, and he was appreciative of the fact that you were so honest with him. He was able to finally connect the last red string to the correct picture on the detective board in his head. But it took him a minute to figure out you weren’t joking.
“Interesting,” he had said. Quizzically studying you when you had spilled your entire scheme to him without a single laugh or even a giggle, snortle, chuckle, swift inhale. Nothing. So he knew you weren’t kidding. Your lip quivered like you had regretted telling him all this information. So, he decided to make an appropriate proposition, a proposition of friendship.
“I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
He watched as you stared at him, mouth slightly agape like you were torn between believing his offer or breaking out in a boisterous laugh. He needed to be a bit more convincing.
“You have five-k in your savings, I have fifty million.” He shifted his gaze from your bewildered face to your upside-down magazine. For someone that was so nonchalant a few minutes ago, you weren’t holding up too well now. He thought about how you wouldn’t actually be able to go through with your plan had it actually been one of these other rich trust fund assholes you had aforementioned. Because first of all, they wouldn’t have stuck around after your first act of obtuseness. He grabbed the magazine out of your nimble fingers, flipped it over, and went back a page. The designer pieces that were seducing you not that long ago, and he brought out his phone that sat in his front pocket. Dialed the little number that hid at the bottom of the page, and you both sat patiently as it rang next to his ear.
“Yes hello, I’d like to purchase the Gucci wool coat with leather details in your...” He flipped the magazine to see its cover. “Luxury twenty twenty-one Spring issue magazine....Yes....Yes the one that costs forty-five hundred...” He glanced over you for a moment to register your reaction, raising an eyebrow as you had your bottom lip between your teeth. Something in him ignited.
“Actually, can you add everything else too? Yes, I’d like to purchase all your uhhh... Gucci and Alexander Wang, Bottega Veneta, Zimmermann, Dior and Chanel pieces on display in your magazine as well...Am I sure? Yes...Oh um..” He glanced back to you, this time seriously eyeing you like a piece of meat. But he was just trying to figure out what kind of size you probably wore. “Can you send (Y/N's usual size) and (a size smaller)? We’ll try them on and return the ones that don’t fit...Yes...Just charge my account Jeon Jungkook, I’m already a member...Yes same shipping address...Thank you.” With his final thanks, he hung up, closed the magazine, and turned to face you.
He found you stuttering something but every time a word came to your tongue you closed your mouth, prohibiting it from escaping the gates of your mind. Jungkook grinned, not a sly grin, not a smirk, a grin of amusement, like he had never seen a sight so rewarding. He understood you now. You weren’t rude, or mean, or crude, you were a sweetheart, a gentle soul, a naive one too. You didn’t think things through, yet you had an immense amount of motivation, that wasn’t something that goes hand in hand but you were lucky, it worked for you. You had put up an act, a poor one at that. You were probably a goofball, the way you hadn’t even been paying attention to your magazine, probably too lost in thought to care for it anymore.
“It’ll all be at my house by tomorrow evening if you want to come pick it up.” He placed the magazine back into your nimble fingers.
Jungkook had no evil intentions or plans, he was truly a genuine guy, kind and endearing once you knew him, he would never try anything that would make you uncomfortable which is why he didn’t ask for your address to send it to.
“Do...” You paused. “Do you want something in return?” You asked. Now Jungkook was hit with a wave of anguish. He knew exactly what you were thinking, or at least he had an idea, you were terrified, and that was the very last thing he wanted. He could see the way you gripped your hands together to keep them from trembling, and he nearly dropped to his knees in apologies. He knew you probably thought that by doing this he had forced you into some sort of putrid debt that you’d be demanded to repay in various forms, and oh did he not want that.
“No!” He nearly yelled, his voice unexpectedly louder than he wanted. “No, I don’t want anything, it’s all yours, I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if I asked for your address to send it to.” He waved his hands, not taking a single breath between words. He surely did not want this to be the last time you saw each other, so he did his best.
Oh you were trembling alright. Trembling because you couldn’t hold yourself back much longer from swallowing this man whole right then and there. A small inch inside of you had actually hoped for Jungkook to ask for something in return, even if it was just a cup of coffee, you wouldn’t have even minded if he was an asshole because you would let him ruin you. There was just something about money that made you squirm, pleasantly. You know that money apparently doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure as hell bought something inside of you, and that face of his helped in swaying you even further.
“Alright.” You laughed.
“So, why Gucci? I personally prefer H&M.” He asked
“I can tell.” You gestured to his all-black ensemble with your eyes.
“I’m not going to take that as an insult because you look like you’re dressed for a runway show right now, but you’re sitting on some butt aching steps.”
“Well thank you, I take pride in my outfits. And I don’t know, do you have something softer to sit on?”
“Depends.” He said. You raised your eyebrow, challenging him.
“On?” You persisted him, eager to hear the very obvious answer to his obnoxious yet somewhat endearing flirtatious remark.
He doesn’t answer you, instead choosing to rub his palms across his thighs, as if they were slick with sweat, looking at you then away with a teasing grin. You wanted to wipe it off his face.
The both of you spent the rest of the day chattering on about each other while he showed you his favorite hiding places on campus. He told you stories about his many extravagant trips with his just as extravagant family and friends because you asked him to. And you in turn told him about the numerous shenanigans you pulled at your previous part-time jobs, always ending up in trouble one way or another because you didn’t like the way the customer spoke at you.
“No way!” You exclaimed, your hand slapping his bicep.
“My thoughts exactly!” He laughed, his hand coming up to hold his ear.
“I didn’t actually think rich people were that stupid, wow.” You gleamed at him. “No offense to you.”
He clutched his chest to signify the cliche look of hurt. “I’m actually at the top of all my classes.”
“And I’m a porn star with a side hustle of being the queen of Australia.” You teased.
“Wouldn’t that just be the queen of England?”
“Which one?” You both burst out laughing, loud boisterous laughs that quickly turned into snorts and chortles, mixing into indecipherable sounds that could be used as background noise for a ritual.
Jungkook had ended up walking you all the way to the cafe that was next to your campus dorms, a gentleman.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope?” He said,.
“You will.” You replied with a smile. Jungkook thought that your smile could make the brightest star in the universe cower in defeat.
Jungkook took a single step back, preparing to take his leave but unable to take his eyes off you until you were the one to turn and depart. And it was quick. A peck on the cheek and you were running. Fleeing the scene of the crime where your dignity was killed in action. And Jungkook stood suspended, his hand on his cheek, a smile on his lips, and he knew then, that there was no way he’d be able to stop thinking about you.
You laid in bed reminiscing about today's events. When Jungkook had turned out to be a total sweetheart you were caught completely off guard. You were thinking he would ask you for sex or something, some sort of fuck buddy relationship perhaps, and that in return he’d shower you in extravagant gifts. Perhaps he was just doing a good deed. Helping the needy. But he had invited you to come to his home. So this wasn’t the last time he wanted to see you, and this made you excited. You weren’t sure what to do next though, you didn’t have much experience in this...area. Never haven taken interest in anyone because they just never seemed to satisfy your plethora of expectations, and you never lowered your standards. Then you thought about the kiss, or peck, whatever that crime of passion was. You were able to catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s face before you booked it, gone behind a building, and what you saw was the sweet shock of fondness. He didn’t hate it, and you were zealous.
On the other end, Jungkook could barely contain himself, he’d be seeing you again tomorrow. Don’t even get him started with the kiss, he had nearly grabbed you and given you a proper one, but you were gone too quickly. Even if you didn’t run, he would’ve still kept to himself, not wanting to push you into anything you didn’t want, allowing you to show him what you were comfortable with.
Friday evening came quickly. And as you approached Jungkook’s home, a literal mansion that cost you thirty bucks in an uber to get to, you thought about your plan. In all honestly, you didn’t have one even though you had ample time to think of one on your ride here, you came up blank. Because of your awfully picky nature in men, you had little to no experience, and right now you were coming up empty and decided to opt for plan B: let the lady make the decisions! By lady you meant your punani. If she wanted to go wild with this heavenly looking man then so be it. Even though you were most likely not going to be getting into bed with him tonight and entrancing him with your magical pussy, you still wore your favorite pieces of lingerie– the best that your broke college student money could buy. And so you put on your fake-it-till-you-make-it confidence and sashayed over to his three-meter tall doors. You rang the doorbell.
Within a minute you were met with his sweet smile. The smile you didn’t know you missed. And your eyes were naturally pulled towards it. And now your eyes were on his lips, and you watched as he licked them, and now you wanted to lick them. You were like a child, eyeing candy. You let your eyes drop lower, today he was wearing a tighter shirt, the type that was loose towards the abdomen but was tight at his arms because his arms were powerful– he was stacked. That was the men’s equivalence of a whore shirt. He was being a whore. You noticed the tattoo sleeve on his right arm, and you knew this man was actually perfect. He had no missing toe.
And Jungkook watched you. He knew you were checking him out because he was checking you out too. The way you bit your lip when you saw him lick his. His eyes naturally fell to your exposed legs, and were you carrying a pretty set.
“Hi, I’m glad you came.” He said.
“Me too.” The tension between you two strangling any other words that could be spoken, instead letting each other’s eyes battle to the death.
Jungkook stepped aside to let you in. You marveled at the interior of his home. Overwhelmed by how much it must have all cost. “Holy shit.” You felt a hand on the small of your back.
“Your items are in my room, I can have them packed up for you if you want?” Jungkook said, bringing you back to your senses.
But you didn’t, you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could because if you were being honest, you wanted to get to know him (too). You wanted to understand his motives, why he did it, and why he approached you.
“No, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to try them on first.” You gently touched his arm, the one that was on your back, the one laced in beautiful works of art. There was a certain awkwardness in the air now.
So with that, Jungkook led you up to his room, up the huge marble spiral stairs, down the hallway, and at the very end, the third door to your right, was his little cove. It definitely was not little. His tremendous cove. He had a king-sized bed at the very end of his room, and there was probably enough room for twenty more of those. And by his bed was the entrance to his closet, next to the closet entrance were three clothing racks filled with clothes, and beside those were a couple of purses and bags and smaller boxes. And he had beautiful huge windows on the west wall, opposite from the door you entered through. The windows basically took up the entirety of the wall, and your thoughts ran wild.
“I never got to ask but, why?” You looked at him. He was already looking at you. And you think you caught him. His head was slightly tilted and his eyes were on yours, and you saw a faint smirk, and a lip bite, and you think that for a second you were hallucinating because as quickly as you saw it, it just as quickly disappeared.
“Why did I buy you those things?” He pointed his chin to the clothes in the corner of the room. And you forgot how beautifully sculpted Jungkook was, his side profile a perfect silhouette.
“Yes.” You whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, so he came closer.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” He was a head away from bumping into yours, and his eyes were pacing back and forth between yours and your lips, which were now pinker from the blood rushing towards them. But you whispered again because you wanted him even closer, “Yes.” But he didn’t move, sadly.
“You wanted to waste some jerk’s money, so I offered mine.” It was then that he stepped closer, and you could feel his breath on your skin. “I don’t think I’m much of a jerk though, sorry if you were looking for that too.” He added in a lower tone, one you had to pay attention to in order to catch every vibration. Your breathing became ragged, shaky and you weren’t sure if he was doing this on purpose.
“I wasn’t, I don’t really like jerks actually.” You moved your arm, gently placing it on his chest. Jungkook took it as a warning, do not wander further than my palm. He wasn’t sure why, but he surely didn’t want to mistake it for an invitation.
“Where can I try them on?” You smiled.
“There’s a walking closet right next to the racks, feel free to use it.” He took a step back.
“Thank you.”
“Or you could just use my room.” Jungkook froze, he wasn’t sure if he had actually said that out loud. It was just a passing thought in his head, and now he was mortified. He searched your eyes fervently for a reaction.
“Thank you for the offer, Jungkook, I’ll keep that in mind.” You took it as another one of Jungkook’s obnoxious jokes, like eighty percent of your conversations with Jungkook usually entailed. But silently, you wished he wasn’t joking.
Jungkook, however, felt his soul rise from his body and go far, far away. The way his name rolled off your tongue like a sweet melody, he would do anything to hear that again. He hadn’t even noticed any of the other words you said like they were all blurred except for his name, and it drove him crazy. You left him standing there, like a frozen popsicle. But your hand burned, it pulsated, from being on his chest, from feeling him flex under your palm, and it was exhilarating. You wanted to feel him again, but next time without a piece of clothing blocking the sensation.
Jungkook wasn’t used to bringing women home, the last time a girl was in his room was before his sixth grade dance, and it was only because she was amongst the rest of his little friend group. They were all going to the dance together, and Jungkook had told them he had snacks in his room, so they all rushed up to get some before leaving. Pathetic surely, for someone his age. But he never cared enough to go out of his way to find someone to share the majority of his time with, he never thought he needed to. He was always given everything he wanted or needed from birth, and until four weeks ago he didn’t realize that he did in fact want one more thing. Or perhaps he needed it? Love at first sight, what an idiotic concept.
For someone like Jungkook, it wasn’t uncommon to get married the moment he graduated, to another crazy rich person. In these circumstances, you marry someone you could tolerate, someone easy on the eyes too, and you just hope to see that person as little as possible. So you both have affairs, multiple, and it’s no secret, everyone knows, even friends, and family, they all know. It always made Jungkook’s stomach churn, at the mere thought of it all, the lack of integrity. He had met plenty of good-looking, rich, women, but they never seemed to stimulate him mentally. It was always a ‘Jungkook you’re so funny!’ and a firm grip of his thigh, when all he had said was that he didn’t care where they’d go eat, they could just watch Netflix instead. And he’d look at them, detached, then hail that he wasn’t feeling too well, and retire to his room. And the girls would always leave. They’d freshen up their lipstick as if they had another scheduled date before stepping out the door.
Jungkook was surely the black sheep of his family, his entire environment, and not in a bad way. He just didn’t behave like the others, he didn’t share their same mentality. Jungkook preferred to meditate than to go clubbing, he preferred to go to a local cafe than on a jet to Singapore for the weekend. Yes, he had seen and done his fair share of rich people things, but he was still always grateful for the plate of food that his personal chef would place in front of him, bowing to show his gratitude. Obviously, the staff in Jungkook’s home were all incredibly fond of him because of that, knowing this little prince from birth, watching him grow into a genuine and respectful young man.
Truthfully, Jungkook wasn’t really aware of the effect he had on people. He was a charmer, but he was kind too. So everything he ever said, whether it be a compliment, or a random remark on the nice weather, he meant it all one hundred percent. But Jungkook also didn’t say much, which is why he was never able to be properly understood by anyone but his family, staff, and very close friends, and maybe now even you. With you, Jungkook didn’t even feel the need to sat much, the glances you shared seem to fill in forty percent of your conversations. A single glance could mean you two would start barking like rabid dogs, or it could mean a ‘shut the fuck up you can’t be serious’, or even a ‘I will actually punch a hole in your smug little face right now.’
When you walked out of his closet with the first full outfit that fit, he was laying on his bed, hands behind his head and he jumped up at the sound of your entrance. You posed ridiculously for him and giggled. You were happy, and that was all he wanted. He winked, then whistled, eyeing you. You knew he was joking but you couldn’t help but blush, this was his effect, this was what he did to you. And now you really wanted to kiss him, and he really wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want you to think that was what he did all this for because it wasn’t. He didn’t want you to think that was all he had wanted.
You both quickly fell into conversation, loudly speaking to each other through the thick doors of the closet. Every now and then you’d poke your half-dressed head through the doors to say something or make sure you heard Jungkook correctly, a ‘What?’ and ‘Harhar very funny’ spoken every now and then. Jungkook now stood by the doors with his back against the wall and face towards the ceiling. And you’d think you were going crazy with the way he would look at you, like he had never seen something so divine. He’d never say anything, no ‘You look beautiful’ or even a ‘Wow’, none, he would just stare in awe with his mouth slightly ajar. And you would chuckle, every time. The both of you didn’t seem to be too good with words, never able to quite find any to properly use in describing your feelings.
So when you finally asked him, “How do I look?” he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer, and said with the most serious look on his face, “Like the queen of Australia.” And you stared at each other, in disbelief, both of your eyes racing each other to look from one to the other, both your lips perked and quivering with the familiar wave of a roar that was surely soon to burst through the both of you. Like an explosion, the glee was released. You grabbed his shoulders to keep you balanced as you threw your head backward, your upper body following. And Jungkook was able to open his eyes slightly, through the tears he ogled at your neck, then at your face that shared an image of pure joy. He admired the way your lips parted way for your teeth, and the scrunches on your nose, the smile lines that led from the edge of your nose to the edge of your lips.
“You’re funny.” You said, dazed out of your mind and knocking on his chest, the dopamine coursing through your brain surely mixed with some oxytocin. And it was the same for Jungkook. You thought about the way his hands felt on your waist, leaving a ghostish touch, gentle and comforting.
“Wouldn’t it be even funnier if I kissed you right now?” His eyes were staring at yours with rapt attention. And you answered with an energetic nod, like you had been waiting for this question for years.
It was quick, his lips were on yours, soft, gentle. They glided against yours almost too perfectly like they belonged to you. Jungkook couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your mouth on his, so he was kissing you deeper, more fervently, like he didn’t even need to breathe. Your breaths fanned each other, exasperated sighs as you both inhaled every five seconds for air because you refused to separate. Jungkook felt a warmth blossom within him, the feeling of your arms wrapping around his head to pull him in closer. The two of you began clumsily stumbling towards his bed, the back of Jungkook’s knees hitting the edge first and he fell backward, you on top of him. Now you were peering at him from above, hair framing your face like a painting, and Jungkook adored the way you looked at him with your half lidded eyes through your long eyelashes. He was in paradise. No other paradise he had ever been in, no island vacation or shopping spree in Singapore could compare to the paradise he was in right now, with you. And he knew then that he wanted to share his world with you, and he could only hope and wish that you share yours with him too.
Jungkook caressed your cheek, gentle swipes across your cheekbones with his thumb. His eyes deeply focused on memorizing your every pore. If he told you he was counting your scars you would probably slap him out of embarrassment. He flipped you over, took off his shirt, and kissed you once more. This time it was quick, rushed, like he couldn’t get enough of you before the time was up.
“Can I?” He tugged at the hem of your top. And you nodded, hesitantly, your bottom lip between your teeth. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.” He reassured you, as if reading your mind, following his statement with a soft kiss on your forehead. “So tell me, what do you want?” He trailed his thumb across your bottom lip, slipping it into your mouth, entranced by the way you took him in.
“Can I just have you?” You looked up at him, from eyeing his topless body. That alone had you pressing your thighs together. Your hands all over him, as if your eyes were closed and you were trying to picture him in your mind through your touch. Then you took his left hand with yours, and your right hand trailed down to grab his crotch, and you moved his hand down to yours. “But I don’t want these two to meet yet.” You snickered. Jungkook found you so amusing, his lips perking into an endearing grin. “That won’t be a problem, princess.” Your tummy did a little flip at his pet name, the way he purred it to you making you go a little crazy.
The rest of the night was spent touching and kissing and touching and kissing. And when Jungkook asked if he could ‘massage you down there’ you took his hand once more and slipped it into your panties. And when you were both in your underwear, Jungkook couldn’t stop drooling over you, the black lacy lingerie that you had worn just for him, hugging every one of your curves as if they were specially handcrafted for you. He proceeded to bite the hem of your panties, tugging them off gently while stopping to lick your thigh every now and then. Jungkook truly did not care that he wouldn’t be having sex with you. He loved this just as much. He loved the way your breath hitched when he slipped his fingers inside you, and the way your nails dug into his arm and his back pulling him closer and closer until you were glued together. Your lips never parting even through muffled moans. You touched him too, you felt the way he twitched in your palm, and it made you giddy when he would shiver in pleasure, biting your lip and curling your toes from excitement. And Jungkook would mutter your name beside your ear anytime you teased him a bit too much, "Y/N, baby, you're driving me crazy." Accompanied by his vulnerable whines and gasps. You guided each other, until you both reached the finish line. And you did this until it was late into the night. Reaching the finish line a number of times, in a number of different ways.
You laid in each other’s embrace, whispering sweet nothings to each other through flirtatious kisses. The kind of fondness between you resembled that of hopeless romantics. And that was exactly what the two of you were. Jungkook’s hand caressing your arm, and you outlining his tattoos with your finger.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” You replied with a hearty laugh.
Jungkook reached over to his bedside to grab his phone. Returning to you he asked, “What do you want to eat, pretty?”
“Whatever you have to offer, handsome.” Your flirting was disgusting, but you both didn’t care.
Jungkook then called his chef, even though it was like 1am in the morning. “I am so sorry for waking you up Mister Young, but I would really appreciate it if you could cook up a meal for two, please.” Your heart instantly melted at the sweetness that Jungkook displayed, truly a kind-hearted gentleman. Mister Young was not at all bothered by Jungkook’s request, in fact, he was overly excited for young sir, this being the first time he had ever requested a meal for two at 1 am in the morning. A sense of pride filled him, happy for the young prince who had possibly found someone to be happy with, finally.
Jungkook turned to you, a grin on his face, “You know, I barely know you.” He said.
“Why lie?” You replied.
You were right. Jungkook did actually know you. He had a private investigator do a background check on you this morning. In Jungkook’s world, it was just out of precaution. There’s always a new story that finds its way to him about someone in their circle being another victim of fraud. He just wanted to make sure that the woman he felt himself falling for, was real.
“How did you know?” Jungkook’s mouth slightly agape.
“You just told me.” You grinned. And Jungkook loved the way you made him feel like a fool. You were joking at first of course, but when Jungkook ironically confessed you put two and two together. Figuring that a person of his stature would surely have the means to know what the name of your pet hamster from when you were seven was. You didn’t really care since you had already told him much of it yourself, all he did was cross-check with the records available to him. But now he owed you, big time.
“You owe me now.” You said.
“Like I said, anything you want, whenever you want.”
Over his shoulder, your eyes noticed something that you were inspecting earlier.
“How about... for next time... or whenever I um, come around to it...” You paused to build up your courage while Jungkook turned to what your eyes were peering at. “We do it against those.” You were both now glancing at Jungkook’s window-filled wall.
“Baby...” He turned to you, eyes wide like he was on cocaine, shifting beneath the sheets before slithering nearer to you like an injured puppy placing his face in the crook of your neck. “You’re so sexy.” He whined into your neck, drawing out the ‘y’ at the end.
He looked up at you, his big doe eyes in action, "What are you doing next week?" A cunning smirk sneaking onto his face.
"Well, I'm scheduled at work for like twenty hours, then I have classes to attend..." You mindlessly listed off the things you were going to do next week as if you weren't speaking to Jeon Jungkook, as if he was just a random commoner–like yourself–looking to ask you out on a simple dinner date.
"Come to Fiji with me?"
Wow, you were not expecting that, and it clearly showed on your face. However, it was not at all like you to turn down this kind of offer just to slave around at a job you despised. Your classes you could easily catch up on. Your mind was made up, but Jungkook didn't know that, so you wanted to tease him a bit.
"I don't know." You exhaled as if torn between the 'very difficult' decision.
"Please." Jungkook whined, lengthening the vowels. "I have to take you on a date. Our first official date." He coaxed.
"And us spending the whole day together yesterday wasn't a date to you?" You asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I said o-ffi-cial." He carefully pronounced each sound in the word 'official' to make it clearer.
"And you can’t just take me out to dinner?" You provoked. Jungkook pouted at you, "That’s boring, I’m not a boring guy." And you knew this already, from some of his earlier ministrations.
"Did someone say skinny dipping?" You yelled, frantically searching the room for an imaginary person. Jungkook’s eyes lit up. "I'm fucking with you, of course I'll go." You finally gave in, unable to compete against his pout.
Jungkook didn't even give you time to pack anything, telling you he'd buy you whatever you needed later. You had both ended up sleeping well into Saturday afternoon in a tangled mess on his bed: your leg was thrown over him, his hand instinctively on your ass all night, or he'd be spooning you and have his hand down the boxers he let you borrow. One way or the other, he made sure those butterflies didn't leave your stomach from his touches. Later in the evening, you were both driven to the airport to board Jungkook's own private jet. He told you how every member in his family had their own designated plane all because of an incident where his older brother had taken the plane to see his girlfriend in Amsterdam when his dad had a meeting to attend in Malaysia.
"It was a huge thing." He said. "My dad was like fuming, you could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears, he was yelling into the phone at my brother like 'You better bring that plane back this instant or else I'm selling your Rolls-Royce!' it was hilarious." You laughed in both amusement and agony, this was really some rich people shit that you could not wrap your head around.
"It was my brother's favorite one too." Jungkook snorted. You connected the dots that the car was indeed sold.
"That's insane..." You looked down at your entangled hands. "Our lives are really different, Jungkook." Your throat started to burn from realization, you were in the car on your way to another fucking country with someone you had just met a day ago. The adrenaline and desire overwhelming the practical part of your brain that would've probably been screaming 'Don't! Don't' at every decision you ended up making to spend more and more time with Jungkook. You thought about the home you had grown up in, the two-bedroom home that was just enough for you and your parents. You had nothing to offer Jungkook, and here he was spending all this cash on a stranger. You wondered if he did this with every pretty girl, then dropped them a week later once he got bored. Probably shouldn’t have let miss lady take charge yesterday.
Jungkook squeezed your hand. You looked back at him. "That doesn't matter, I hope you know that." The remaining ten minutes of the ride was spent in relative silence, you battling in your thoughts, and Jungkook humming to himself while looking out the window, turning to check on you every minute or so. He didn't need a reply from you. He would've understood if you made the decision not to go right in front of the jet's stairs. And he'd take you home, without question.
But you didn't. You got on that plane, fell asleep an hour into the flight, and woke up to Jungkook gently telling you that you were about to land. You looked out the window, "Doesn't look like Fiji, did you kidnap me to sell me off?"
"Unfortunately not, you'd make me so much money though," he pouts through his teasing "we're in Sydney, you need things so I figured we'd make a stop..." He leaned over you, his hands on top of the baggage compartment while he looked out your window. You grabbed his waist and stuffed your head up his shirt, yup this was the best decision you've made so far.
"You smell nice, kinda wanna take a bite." You said, actually taking a bite of his sturdy abs.
"What do I taste like?" He asked.
"Like burnt chicken nuggets." You licked.
"Alright, that's enough, let's get going." He pulled you out from under his shirt and enveloped you in a rather dirty kiss. He took you by your hand and guided you off the plane and into the black range rover waiting for you both.
“I don’t need much, Jungkook.” You said, causing Jungkook to stare at you with wide eyes. This was very unlike you. “Well half of the time I’m gonna be in the water, and the other half I’ll probably be...” you leaned over to whisper the rest in his ear “naked.” His grip on your thigh tightened.
“Plus I have nowhere to keep all this stuff in my tiny dorm room closet.” You whined, placing your head on his shoulder. You didn’t even want to think about the amount of time that packing would take.
He hummed as if deep in thought, “Well you’re lucky, I just so happen to have an extra closet you can use.”
You groaned, you were a bit terrified at how things were moving. Yes, Jungkook was a rare gem, a one in a million type of guy but you feared that he didn’t see you the same way. And maybe he really wasn’t, there’s only so much you can learn about a person in 48 hours. Though, character may be hard to fake. Why worry though? This was a once in a lifetime experience that not many people were lucky enough to get, after all, this was what you were working towards anyway. You were absolutely going to enjoy yourself.
“Fine, but that means I have to come over anytime I want something from that closet.”
“Very true, I’m sure we can work something out.”
It wasn’t long before you both arrived at the very posh boutique lined shopping centre. You weren’t sure why you had expected to go to the general mall with stores such as Topshop or Zara. Instead, you were staring down price tags that could pay six months worth of rent. “Stop looking at those.” Jungkook snatched the price tag out of your hand. “Just choose what you like, I’ll wait for you in the changing room, pretty.” The changing room which was quite literally a room with a whole sofa that Jungkook laid on. So when you came in with a stack of clothes in your arms, a huge toothy grin on your face, and the store clerk behind you also with a stack of clothes in her arms, Jungkook smiled. You began trying on the clothes, all made for warm weather, you just wanted to make sure that they didn’t look stupid on you. Sometimes some pieces would look gorgeous on the hanger, but the moment it was on a body it became an awkward looking mess. Jungkook would still say that you made it look good but you wouldn’t care, your own confidence in the piece being more important than whether or not it actually looked good. Jungkook was enjoying this just as much as you were, having front row seats to see your panties slightly slip off whenever you removed some shorts or skirts that were tight fitting. His favorite part though was the swimsuit try on, yup, and you had a lot of those. Every now and then he’d get up just to grab you, spin you around, and hold you, like the big softie he was.
You both spent around two hours shopping. Jungkook bought two pairs of swimsuits for himself, the remaining six bags were yours. And you were back on the plane for a quick-not-so-quick four and a half hour ride to Fiji islands, final destination being Turtle Island.
It was mid-day by the time you arrived at the five star private resort that Jungkook had booked for you two, well his travel agent, but that wasn’t the point–he still paid. It was a beautiful little stilt building on water, there was even a pool and jacuzzi on the patio overlooking the crystal clear blue water. You oohed and aahed at the colorful fish and turtles! that swam below. Then there were footsteps coming up behind you, fast, and before you could even turn there was a huge splash in the water you were watching. A wet blonde head of hair looking up at you from the water. “You coming or not!?” Jungkook yelled over to you. Luckily, you already had your swimsuits on under your clothes, a little trick that your mom and you would do every time she’d take you to the beach or to the water park when you were younger. So you stripped your clothes off and jumped in after him. And when you were floating beside him he brought his hand up out from the water, two goggles hanging from it. You squealed a bit from excitement, snatching one, pouring the salty water out from inside, wiping the goggles and putting it on. Then you were both under, diving then coming up for air then back down to swim after a turtle.
The rest of the day went by quickly, exhausted by the time the sun set. You were in the jacuzzi eating a bunch of fruit that the resort staff had delivered earlier. Eyes closed and head relaxed on the cushioned headrest, with your arms outstretched on the jacuzzi edge. Jungkook was somewhere inside, you assumed he was taking a shower. That was not the case though, apparently he was straddling you now, his thick arms wrapped behind your head, his fat ass on your thighs. You opened your eyes “cute,” you giggled, moving your hands up his sides while inspecting his ravishing body.
“Did you know that sea turtles eat jellyfish? It’s like their favorite snack. I wonder if it’s like jello.” Jungkook said. You hummed, too busy with your hands.
“They can also hold their breath underwater for like five hours.” He added on. Now he was smirking, but you weren’t sure why.
“That’s very interesting, Jungkook, is there a reason you’re telling me this?”
“Not really.” He started sliding off you, into the water. Your eyes followed him down until everything was submerged except for his head.
“May I?” He asked.
“May you what?”
He stuck his tongue out, then flailed his head in the water and you were genuinely embarrassed by him even though it was just the two of you. But you knew what he meant: the turtle facts now made a bit more sense to you. He pinched your thigh and you swatted him. Jungkook’s devious little plan was ruined because you were now wrestling in the jacuzzi. HIs head tucked under your armpit, then you were tucked under his armpit, then multiple counts of attempted homicide.
Though, eventually, somehow your swimsuits had managed to fly off in various directions and somehow you were now all over each other, tongues in action and lips glued together. Jungkook’s hands ran up and down your spine then went to fondle your ass that he would occasionally squeeze. You were quick to let him into your mouth, his tongue having begged at your lips. You naturally began to grind against his muscular thighs, and he would flex them to create some sort of aid in this frictionless water. Your hand inched down his chest, his abs, then you traced his v-line till you reached what you were going for. You fondled his dick that was now getting pressed between your torso and his, running your thumb against his tip. “Shit, baby, do you like doing that? Teasing me?” Jungkook groaned into your ear. You hummed in agreement. Your lips smacking against each other, the sound of hot breath and waves mixing together. Jungkook’s dick being so close to your entrance but not inside you made you feel empty, and you could feel his outline against you, not small in the slightest. “Jungkook, I want you.” The words barely escaping with sound as you mouthed them into the kiss before he started nipping at your neck, taking a bite and leaving a fresh hickey. “Mhm, can you say that again for me, baby?” You loved Jungkook’s way of flirting, he would call you ‘pretty’ whenever you were in public and keep ‘baby’ for the bedroom. “I want you so deep inside me that I can’t see you right in front of me.” You pulled away to speak properly.
Jungkook must have seen the devil because he yanked you up, threw you over his shoulder and removed you both from the jacuzzi. You were now two naked bodies on display for all the turtles and fishes to see, though they seemed to be too preoccupied to watch Jungkook ruin you shortly. He slapped your ass and ran his fingers over your mound as he carried you to the canopy bed that sat outside on the patio. “You know, when you say things like that you make me go a little crazy.” He said in a deep, groany voice. And he threw you onto the bed, barely giving you any time to adjust before he was spreading your legs and looking at you hungrily.
“You’re too pretty for your own good,” he drew his fingers along your entrance, “I wonder how many times I can make you cum with my mouth alone.” You nearly cried as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, his thumb tracing little circles on your bud. It wasn’t long before he was shoving one finger in, then two, then three, going in and out and in and out, his tongue lapping you up. You grinded against him, your fingers in his wet hair. Then he was moving up your body, licking the droplets of water along the line he drew. He circled your nipple while he rubbed the tip of his shaft against your entrance. Your hands were above your head, giving him an all access pass to every inch of your body. Then he was showering you with kisses again, your lips connecting once more like magnets. “I can’t believe I’m about to fuck the queen of Australia.” He whispered into your ear. You let out a breathless laugh, your hands moving to wrap around his neck. “That would make you my king, or rather perhaps my concubine?” You moaned as Jungkook grinded against you, slow lustful grinds. “Sounds like fun either way, but you’ll always be my princess.” And you gave out a loud moan from Jungkook finally shoving his dick inside you.
“What if I said I’d never had a concubine before?” You laughed breathlessly, afraid that Jungkook might not catch your drift. Though when he paused from fucking you into the sheets to look at you through wide eyes, you can confidently assume he did.
“Are you?’ He asked, unable to say much else. And you nodded hesitantly in reply.
“Then I guess we’re both just going off instinct here, aren’t we?” He smiled, returning to kiss you, devotion laced with his kiss. The fact that Jungkook was a virgin, too, made you lightheaded, you were his first and likewise. To you, this meant something more than just a quick fiji trip with a pretty girl.
Jungkook wouldn’t have even guessed that he’d be your first, thinking that you didn’t want to fuck him on your kinda-not-really second date was because you just didn’t fuck so early. He didn’t really understand why, or how, but knowing that he was your first too made him feel connected to you even more, like you were truly both meant to stumble into each other. He was so fucking glad that he asked you that stupid question, or else you wouldn’t be here right now, with him. And God, the way your lips felt against his, he could go crazy just from a brush alone. He held you like you were fragile, made from glass, but with every thrust he wanted to go deeper, further into you, and no he wasn’t doing that just to hear your heavenly moans.
Unhurried, lazy but deep thrusts. Because he’s not rushing anywhere nor are you. And your fingers are entangled in his, beside your head, and they’re warm, moist even, soft, and his thumb drags along the back of your hand, calming you, sweet little ministrations– his specialty. And his lips are on your ear, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, and he’s tasting you, like a hungry gentleman. You’re on a cloud, with nothing else but yourself and him around you. And you can feel it all, everything, everywhere, the sweet tingles that run up from your mound through your stomach, up to your brain and it’s intoxicating, like narcotics, you can’t get enough. But it’s happening simultaneously with the pumps from your heart, and the feelings are mixing, like a sick little concoction waiting to burst out of every opening. Now Jungkook’s fingers are running down your shining body, like paint brushes, he’s painting you then erasing you with his lips, then painting you again, and he does this many, many times, and each time is like the first. You can feel him, so intimately, filling you slowly, his warm, slick body on top of yours, his tough chest and abdomen sliding on yours carefully, gently, almost like he doesn’t want to scrape you with his piercing muscles that he had so diligently built. His golden chain tickles your face, and you smile, biting it, and twisting your head to the side to pull him closer, and Jungkook answers with a chaste kiss, no hesitation.
He pulled out all the way till only his tip was past your entrance, “I’m happy to be your first concubine, my princess,” and as he spoke those words he thrusted into you, a slow, meticulous thrust, guiding you to your high. “I’ll always be your princess.” You repeated to him the same words he had spoken to you, a tear running down your cheek as you felt an unfamiliar sensation bubbling within you.
And you know, you know now that you love him. You love him a bit too much. But it’s impossible to describe, there aren’t enough letters, not enough words, to describe the way your stomach flips whenever he smiles at you– that smile, the smile... his smile. Maybe not enough words in this language alone, maybe there are more in French, there should be more that you can use? So you think, but you only know so much. Amour sans fin. Your love for him, endless, until the very last star burns out. But still, you’re trying to find the words, struggling to put together the letters while sharing the same breaths with him. You open your eyes, and you’re met with his, penetrating you, as if he’s reading your heart’s wishes, longings, needs. And he says it before you can.
“I love you.” And you know, you understand, that it’s all you need. There’s nothing more he can say, to explain to you how deep his feeling goes, there aren’t enough words, or songs, or poems. So you accept it because you too know nothing of what else he could say, to express his longing for you. The longing for something that is already there, but he still wants to be with you, constantly, he wants you there, always.
Jungkook knew that you were the one, his search coming to a full stop with you snug between his arms. He continued to fuck you while paying attention to every inch of your skin, and he soon learned all your sweet spots. The spot right below your ear, which he would lick, and kiss, and bite, and you in turn would cry his name. The spot on your side, on your waist, right below your ribs, he would run his fingers across it, his tongue, and you'd shiver. And your lips of course, when he'd bite your bottom lip, you always smiled into the kiss without fail, and if your hands weren't already holding his face then you would bring them up to hold him.
Even though you were all over each other, tossing and turning, fucking and crying. Fucking from the side, fucking with your leg swung over his shoulder, fucking with both legs over his shoulder, fucking with your face stuffed into a pillow, you still couldn't get enough of each other. This seemed to be the case anytime you two were together though, the physical touch between you two being never ending. Whenever this becomes official, the PDA will be disgusting. So when you've both reached your highs, multiple times, and the fogginess has left your mind, you're finally breathing out an "I love you," that gets lost among the waves, but does not go unheard.
2K notes · View notes
parkdatjimin · a month ago
"I don't wanna ruin anything."
"I do."
Pairings: Jungkook x reader
Genre: 18+, fluff??, this is sex from beginning to end
Summary: you take your relationship with Jungkook to the next level
Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up, kids), switch!jk, switch!reader, nipple play, spit play, jk has a praise kink, jk also has a size kink, soft sex, lil bit of teasing, swearing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms
Wc: 3K
a/u: repost. this is the first smut I posted and people actually liked it?? still scratching my head on that one lol but it means something I suppose.
Tumblr media
Plump lips suck your neck, marking you for what you are. His.
He pulls away, colorful bruises showing where his mouth just was. Gazing down at you, there's just enough light coming through your window to shadow his face so he appears as mysterious as he does intoxicating. He gives you a hesitant expression.
“I don’t wanna ruin anything.”
"I do," you say, entangling your fingers in his hair and guiding him closer to you. "Jungkook, I can't kiss you like this and not want to ruin our friendship. I don't have the emotional capacity to wake up tomorrow and things be the same. If we're going to do this, I want it to be something real, something significant. I want things to change between us but if you're not ready for that, you need to tell me right now. Because I want you. All of you. Do you want me?"
You've never been frightened of a pause before in your life, but when Jungkook pauses, all you can register in that split two seconds is anticipation which your mind quickly mistakes for fear.
"I want you," he finally confesses, "in every possible way."
Sinking onto you, the lines of Jungkook's body match each of your curves, aligning himself to feel you against every inch of himself. God, he just wants to feel you. On his lips, in his arms, between his legs, everywhere. He's waited two years too long for this, to allow this. He attaches his lips to your neck while your hands slip between the two of you and unbutton his jeans.
He helps shimmy them to his ankles and then kicks them far away before helping you untie your dress. Sitting up, you allow the straps to fall off your shoulders and Jungkook chases the pretty strings with kisses down each of your arms. Once that useless fabric has been tossed aside, he lays you back down and settles himself between your legs. Right where you want him.
"Is this okay?" he asks, tracing his finger from your ankle to your thigh.
"God, yes."
Jungkook lifts your leg and leans in close to place kisses against the inside of your knee, working his way up, eyes closed like he's kissing your face. As he gets closer, you feel your pulse rising to impossible speeds. He kisses across your pelvis, making his way all the way around where you're desperately needing him.
Reaching down to stroke his hair, you try to sound as patient and sweet as possible. "Please, don't tease me?"
He smirks and you legitimately did not know he could make such a sexy expression. Your dorky best friend is still in there somewhere, but you'll never see him the same way again. And that excites you.
"Alright, baby girl, I got you."
Throwing your panties behind him, he starts with a light kiss to your slit, a small but effective beginning. When he feels you shiver, he continues to kitten lick at your core, experimenting with different pressures and places to see if he can draw out any more of those adorable sounds from earlier.
When his lips finally take your clit, you give him what he wants to hear.
"Shit, I...mmm."
It doesn't take Jungkook long to learn what you like. He has fun discovering your preferences because, at the end of the day, his goal is to give you as much pleasure as he possibly can. He lays the top of his rough tongue flat against your pussy and gives it a long, hard, right slurp over your clit.
"You taste," he swallows, "so good, what the hell?"
The praise makes you feel even sexier. Jungkook's hands are pinning down your hips now. They kept shifting and bucking, so he had no choice but to restrain you. In the back of his mind, Jungkook considers asking you to ride his face since you appear to be so adamant about it, but he'll save that for another time. The real plot twist comes when one of those large, deliciously veiny hands abandons its post to instead insert two fingers into your soaking cunt.
He continues to work you, matching the rhythm of his tongue to the slow scissor motion of his fingers, until you feel yourself nearing the edge.
"Jungkook, I'm close," you begin gasping. "Don't stop!"
The sounds you make as you near your finish just urge him on. He can't focus on how insanely hot he feels, forehead sweating and biceps bulging every time your hips try to buck against his face. Your entire body shakes with pleasure and Jungkook feels immense pride knowing that your moans are because of him.
When you come, it's in waves. Deep, satisfying, pleasurable waves rush through every nerve ending in your body and out the tips of your fingers and toes. The sloppy sound of Jungkook drinking up your orgasm is the only other thing to be heard aside from your heavy breathing and rapid heartbeat.
Jungkook crawls up your body, placing wet kisses on your tummy and collarbone on the way. He wordlessly asks you to arch your back so he can discard your bra in the same direction as your panties.
There you are, glistening with sweat and lying beneath him, muscles still occasionally spasming from the ripping orgasm his mouth just gave you. A small smile on your lips while you look up at him, beautiful beyond words. Jungkook feels his entire self fall into something he's never experienced while looking at you before. It terrifies him but also makes his dick hard as a rock.
When he reaches your mouth, he doesn't hesitate to slip his tongue past your lips, allowing you to taste yourself like some kind of desperate slut, something you never thought you would find enjoyable, but knowing Jungkook has tasted you in this intimate way makes you feel very sexy and wanted. His right hand fondles your breast, nonchalantly and gently pinching the nipple every few seconds just to keep that subtle pleasure continuing while his tongue is down your throat.
"Open your mouth, babydoll," he tells you, and you immediately comply.
Hovering above you, your mouth open, tongue out, eyelids fluttering, and eyes full of greed and submission, Jungkook gathers the leftover saliva from your kiss behind his lips and allows it to drop onto your tongue. You accept it, swallowing his gift without hesitation while he watches it in awe.
"You're really pretty," he whispers. Part of you wonders if he meant for you to hear that, but you did, and it makes your heart and pussy jump with a want to hear your best friend moan your name.
You motion for Jungkook to sit back against the pillows, so he does.
Sitting yourself between his legs, you pop a smile, because you're honestly excited about making him feel just as good as he makes you feel. Jungkook softly smiles back, leaning forward to capture your lips again briefly. He couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. Kissing you is becoming dangerously addictive.
You lower your lips to his stomach, stamping kisses across his abs and hips. Upon reaching his underwear line, you place one finger beneath the band and look up again.
"Is this okay?"
"God, yes."
Having palmed him through his jeans and boxers, you knew Jungkook was not of average size. Seeing his cock hard and pulsing with need, eager for any and all attention you're willing to give it, you start to worry. However, your concern is short-lived, because as soon as you begin tracing your thumb over the large vein running up his shaft, Jungkook's head falls back and he sighs in ecstasy.
"Sensitive, are we?"
"You're one to talk."
Starting off easy, you replace your thumb with your tongue, letting yourself spend some extra time tasting the pre-cum that's a result of your work. Parting your lips, you take as much of him as you can before your gag reflex kicks in and your throat squeezes around him.
"Fuck, babygirl, your mouth feels so good around my cock."
It's not the first time you've heard Jungkook curse, but damn, if it's not the sexiest thing on this planet. The sounds Jungkook makes, oh god, the way he whines sends your pussy into a frenzy. His voice is low but desperate and you're equally as desperate to please him. It's slightly uncomfortable to have this much dick in your mouth, but the way Jungkook's muscles tense every time you sink down and the way he gasps every time you dig your nails into his thighs more than makes up for it.
Jungkook collects your hair into a loose ponytail, trying to guide your movements and you let him. Forcing back tears, you let Jungkook use your mouth until he's right on the edge, cock twitching in your mouth and abs spasming in anticipation.
"Close. I'm so close--"
When he feels you push his hand away, he doesn't fight your retreat, but he does sit forward and reach for you.
"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"
"No," you reply honestly, a little out of breath, "I really want you inside me. Is that okay?"
"My best friend wants me to fuck her?"
"Yes, please."
Jungkook eagerly nods, shifting forward to meet your lips, both of you smiling into the kiss as he once again lays you on your back. He uses his hold on your waist to tilt your hips toward his, grinding his achingly hard cock against your soaking clit while both of you sigh in utter relief. Two years too long.
"Are you ready?" he asks with a subtle groan.
"Yes," you moan, quickly adjusting yourself to give this boy the easiest access you can, because how else do you tell your best friend you're literally dying to feel his fat cock fill you to the brim and fuck you into next week.
Looking up at this boy leaning over you with the most loving caring eyes, you have a lot of feelings. Intense, complicated feelings. But the simplest one and the most important one is a revelation you're not sure you're ready to confess just yet.
"Tell me if it hurts, okay?"
"I will, just don't hold back, please? I can take it. I want to take it. I want this so much."
Without arguing, he pushes his hips forward and your pussy greedily accepts him, pulling him deeper and automatically clenching around his cock tightly.
Jungkook drops his head to your neck, breath shaky and hips jerking until they've sunk completely, sheathed inside you to the hilt.
Trying not to dig your nails into his back, you begin coaxing him to move by wiggling your hips underneath him. He gets the message and slowly drags his cock out of you until only the very tip is left and then begins thrusting at a slow but deliciously deep pace.
"So tight, fuck you feel so good."
Throwing your head back, you allow yourself to feel it all. Every ridge, every crevice, every ridiculously thick inch stretching you and pushing you to your limit. By closing your eyes, you can also feel the hot shots of breath on your neck every time Jungkook thrusts inside you. His lips brush your skin with a light tingly sensation that shoots down your spine.
"Faster," you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.
As you wish, Jungkook picks up the pace, using the leverage that he has and his pure strength to hit you just as deep but now twice as fast, demolishing your g-spot with perfect precision.
"Does it feel good?" he grunts against your ear.
"Feels so good, Jungkook," you whimper. "Fill me up so perfect, your cock feels so perfect."
Jungkook lifts his head, supporting his weight on either side of you now. There are tears in his eyes.
"___," he starts, voice low and littered with moans and grunts as he continues to fuck you like no one ever has or ever will, "fuck, you're so beautiful."
You wrap your legs around his waist, grip his shoulders for dear life, and feel the tears forming in your own eyes as your second orgasm builds and builds.
"Cum with me," you beg.
And Jungkook does. Not a minute later, he unravels above you.
The morning is sure to bring a heavy conversation and some much-needed confessions, but for now, the two of you are content in each other's arms, dreaming about the times to come and more evenings spent exploring each other in ways you never have.
757 notes · View notes
yoonpobs · 3 months ago
with you | ksj | m
Tumblr media
marrying your childhood best friend was not the love story that most painted it to be. you knew that better than anyone else.
PAIRING. kim seokjin x reader
GENRE. marriage!au, divorce!au, childhood friends2lovers!au, angst, fluff, smut
WARNINGS. dilf jin, mentions of divorce (it's literally the plot😭), marriage problems, jin is kind of an asshole (who redeems himself!!!-ish), slight jealousy, soft sex, crying during sex, oral (f receiving), bigdick!jin, oc is a crybaby who tries not to cry 99.9% of this fic
WORDS. 22.1k
NOTE. it's here!!!!! I've been working on this fic for a while and im somewhat pleased with how it turned out!!!! i apologise for any errors/edit mistakes bc I run through it on my own so I may overlook some grammar issues etc ...
anywho, I hope you enjoy this fic!!!! as always - my asks are open to let me know how you felt about this fic <3
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“What is this?” he blinks.
“Divorce papers,” you say softly, smoothing out the surface while you avoid his eyes.
“You want,” he says slowly, eyebrows furrowing as he attempts to process your words. “You want a … divorce?”
You hate that he sounds so nonchalant like you weren’t mulling over this decision for the past three months as you found yourself losing hope in your marriage with each passing day. But for as long as you’ve known Jin, he’s always been like this. A little hard to understand, straightforward but never intentionally malicious. He just somehow ended up hurting people without him realising it.
“Yes,” you say.
“What about Jiho?”
The reminder of your son makes your heart drop to the pit of your stomach, but you were prepared for this question. In fact, your son was the only thing that made you hesitate your decision for another month because divorces were messy and even if Jiho was just four years old and probably too young to understand—he was perceptive and you didn’t want to put him through the taxing emotions of having his parents go through a divorce.
But you were exhausted of fighting alone and returning to a home that feels more isolating than welcoming.
“We’ll share custody,” you narrate the exact words you’ve been mulling over for the past few months, even if it breaks your heart to say them.
“What prompted this?” It hurts even more when Jin flips through the papers as he would with any other of his business contracts, and it’s a harsh reminder that your marriage was reaching an invincible expiry date that you wanted to ignore.
“We …” you hesitate, fingers clutching the fabric of your dress as you purse your lips. Was there a reason to justify your decision anymore, when you’ve fought tooth and nail for the past four months to be heard? To be seen as someone who wasn’t just his wife on paper but a person to be nurtured? You force yourself to look ahead, even when Jin raises an eyebrow at your silence. You settle for a soft response instead. “I think it’s for the best.”
Jin opens his mouth to say something but decides against it before he slides the papers towards him, and you half-expect him to sign it and tell you to leave. The thought only makes your heart shatter even more—because four years of marriage, a child—gone, just like that.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he offers you a curt nod with a look you can’t quite decipher.
“I’ll get back to you,” he says.
You blink, especially when he pushes himself off his desk and extends a hand towards you as if he’d expected you to grab it. The gesture doesn’t fit in with the context of the conversation, much less the emotions that thrash wildly in your heart.
“What are you doing?” you whisper.
“Lunch,” he says, “I haven’t had it with you in a while.”
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“That took a while,” Taehyung points out when you clamber back into your office.
“I had lunch,” you respond curtly as you hang your jacket on the coat hanger while you attempt to ease the pressing headache between your temples.
“Alone?” He raises a brow.
“With Jin.”
Taehyung’s eyes widen as you plop onto the empty seat next to him. Your son’s fidgeting in his lap as your assistant types away at his laptop, and you’re absolutely exhausted so you extend your arms towards Jiho, who immediately turns to you with a toothy grin and leaps off Taehyung’s lap.
“Hi baby,” you press a kiss to his cheek, immediately seeking warmth in your son’s chubby body.
“Hi mama,” he returns, pressing a plush cheek into your chest when you squeeze him.
You try to keep your tears at bay, even if it’s just having your son in your arms. He doesn’t know the day you had or the meal you shared with his father. The man you married and decided to have a child with. Jiho doesn’t know that it’s over—and it hurts. It hurts because he deserved a family filled with love.
“How did it go?” Taehyung asks tentatively, swirling in his chair until he’s facing you.
You know he’s concerned. He was probably the person that received the news with the most shock, granted he was currently the only person that knew besides Jin. Taehyung has been your assistant before you relocated to this larger office and before your business set its course, and even when you and Jin were just dating. So, he knows—he knows how hard you’ve tried and when you decided that it was over.
“He didn’t even try,” you croak, eyes fluttering shut as you attempt to level your breathing to not alarm your son, “Just took the papers and said he’d get back to me.”
“He didn’t sign it?” Taehyung asks in slight surprise.
“No,” you murmur, peering down to see your son fiddling with a ribbon that sticks out your dress, “I didn’t want to ask why.”
Taehyung purses his lips before he reaches out to squeeze your available hand. The gesture is enough to remind you of what you just did—the conversation you just had with Jin, and it’s enough for your entire facade to go crumbling again.
But you don’t cry because your son is unaware of the conflict that exists between you and his father, you don’t cry because one of you needed to be strong and it had to be you.
“I’m sorry.” His apology is sincere but frankly, useless. But you don’t tell him that even if that’s all that plagues your mind. You know Taehyung knows this too, but you suppose it’s the best either of you can offer right now.
“Don’t be,” you laugh humourlessly, “You’re not the one that failed in this marriage.”
“You didn’t fail, ____,” he says sternly, “It just—some things don’t work out.”
Your lips wobble again, looking up so your son doesn’t spot your tears.
“I thought we would,” you croak, “I tried. I tried—so hard. But it still wasn’t enough.”
Taehyung stays silent, and your son is mumbling something under his breath. When you peer down, his smile remains innocent and oblivious to the world that’s falling apart right in front of his eyes.
“Mama, look,” he squeals as he lifts up an arm that he’s somehow managed to scribble on, “Mama, daddy, me!”
Taehyung has to take Jiho when you excuse yourself to the bathroom.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“What do you mean he hasn’t signed it?” You hiss, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you attempt to shove old documents into the shredder.
“He … hasn’t,” Jimin, Jin’s assistant, says lamely over the line as you feel your headache return.
“Jimin, you’re his assistant,” you remind him sternly, “It’s literally your job to make sure he gets shit done.”
“I know!” He exclaims before he’s sighing, “He’s just—he keeps putting it off. I really can’t do much, ____.”
You chuck the last bit of papers aside before you’re grabbing your phone from in-between your ear and shoulders before you’re leaning against a desk, pinching the bridge of your nose in irritation.
It’s been a week since you visited Jin at his office propositioning him with a divorce, yet, the papers remain vacant from his signature that solidified the termination of your legal union. You were more so irritated than hurt right now, purely because you wanted actual documents to present to your lawyer and your parents before you told them that you and Jin were getting a divorce.
It’s also been a week since Jin’s came home, and you’re partly thankful that he did that on his own because that was another painful conversation you weren’t quite ready to have. Not that he came home at an acceptable hour anyway. But it’s almost daunting at how the bed remains cool where he used to lay, even if he’d disappear hours before your awakening.
“Just,” you exhale, “Please get him to sign it, Jimin. I’m tired.”
You can hear some shuffling on the other end and you assume it’s him moving to another place with the way the office chatter gets distinctively quieter the longer time passes.
“Do you,” he starts, “do you really have to do this?”
You sigh, already bracing for his comment.
If Taehyung knew you and Jin before you got married, Jimin was the person that got the two of you together. The instigator that insisted that the feelings and mutual, and that the chance should be taken. You believed him ten years ago when you were younger and in high school, oblivious to what the future held. You wanted to resent him for how things out but you knew it was irrational. You would’ve fallen in love with Jin with or without Jimin’s intervention.
He was that easy to love.
The bitter reminder that the divorce seemed easy for him to accept, even without the signature, plagues your mind as you hear Jimin call your name once more.
“Do you think this was my first option?” you snap, and immediately the silence is tense. “I was backed into a corner, Jimin. There’s no point in Jin and I remaining married if—if nothing about our relationship feels like a marriage anymore.”
“What about Jiho?” he throws back the same question Jin posed at you when you first came to him with the divorce.
You grit your teeth, your heart inevitably clenching at the guilt that’s yet to subside. It only hurt more because you knew Jimin didn’t mean it to hurt you, but it did—it did because it wasn’t easy.
“I’m not taking him away from Jin,” you whisper, “I can’t—I would never do that.”
“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jimin says softly.
“I know,” you reply, equally as soft as your eyes dart to the ground, “I hate this, Jimin. I do. But I rather Jiho grow up with two parents who aren’t together than two parents who live together but not even talk.”
Jimin stays silent, and you know that he’s heavily contemplating his next set of words.
You beat him to it with a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t mean to unload.”
“Please don’t apologise,” he says, “I just … have you tried speaking to Jin?”
You scoff bitterly at the suggestion, and you know that you shouldn’t be taking it out on Jimin, who’s both Jin’s assistant and your close friend—but the nudge to recall the times you’ve tried, tried so hard to patch things up by planning mini-dates that he rain checked more than enough times for you to want to try again—only leaves you feeling sour.
“He clearly doesn’t mind if he says he’ll get back to me,” you say bitterly.
“Have you considered that maybe he only said that because—”
At that moment, your intercom goes off and you briefly hear Taehyung’s static voice filter through the speaker.
“Hold on, Jimin,” you rush as you put your hand to the speaker to lean forward to press the intercom. “Tae?”
“You have an appointment,” he says slowly, and your eyebrows furrow at his odd tone.
“I do?” You say with a puzzled expression, “I don’t remember scheduling an appointment—”
“Well, this isn’t really an appointment,” he laughs tightly.
“Tae,” you frown, “What are you saying?”
“She’s already—”
And at impeccable timing, a rapt knock is delivered to your door as you further scrunch your eyebrows in confusion.
“Jimin, I need to go. I have a visitor,” you bring the phone back up to your ear as you begin heading towards the door.
“No worries,” he clips, “Take care, okay?” He says softly.
You mumble a word of gratitude before you’re hanging up, hand already reaching out to turn to the knob to greet your guest.
You’re still confused before you come face-to-face with them, but the moment the door opens as you plaster a smile to greet your guest—your grin immediately freezes as you spot the one person that you surely didn’t expect to visit your workplace on a weekend, let alone at all.
“E-Eomeonim,” you stutter, eyes briefing landing on Taehyung’s apologetic expression behind your guest's elegant posture.
“Myeoneuri,” she immediately beams, leaning forward to embrace you into a hug that you’re still too stunned to properly returned, and it’s not until she pulls back with furrowed brows that you return the gesture, still frozen in shock as you lean your head against her shoulder.
“What brings you here?” You ask, forcing a smile at the sudden grant of her presence as you shut the door behind you, immediately guiding her towards the empty couch as you head towards your cupboards to bring out the glasses for drinks.
“Ah,” she laughs, gently and polished as ever as you keep your head-trained over your shoulder to engage in eye contact as you pour her some water, “Can’t I visit my daughter-in-law?”
The term doesn’t fall on deaf ears and you force yourself to laugh, even if you know that the term wouldn’t be applicable for much longer. You feel like a fraud, inviting her into your office and offering her water as if you weren’t over at her son’s office a week ago with papers that would immediately terminate any relationship you had with him—or her. Legally, at least.
She was still your son's grandmother and overall, a lovely person.
You grew up with her right next to your house, being the second mother in your life especially when she used to house you on nights where your parents were out of town as you integrated with her two sons and their antics. She cooked for you and treated you like you were her own daughter. Those things didn’t go away just because you were divorcing Jin.
“Of course,” you smile softly as you pass her a glass with two hands, “It’s nice to see you.”
She chuckles politely before taking a sip and setting the glass onto the table, eyes travelling around your office as she takes in your interior.
She’s been here on a few occasions, but they’ve been sprawled out over the years so there have definitely been some changes from when she last came. She doesn’t visit often—to your office, at least—she never had a reason to. So it’s all the more startling and nerve-wracking when she appeared today, conveniently after you proposed a divorce she’s yet to know about.
“I was thinking about you,” she says softly, peering up through her lashes as you gulp, fingers shaking ever so slightly when you take a sip of your drink yourself.
“You’re always free to visit, eomeonim,” you return politely, bowing your head.
She scoffs playfully, waving you off as she leans backwards into your plush couch.
“Don’t be so stiff with me, ____,” she teases, “I’ve changed your diapers.”
You flush at the reminder, and it’s both in fondness and in relative hurt because your family and hers were tight-knit from the very beginning. Your mother and she were best friends even before the two of you were born, and it’s only natural that their children ended up becoming friends. It was always a running joke that they’d hope you and Jin would fall in love and marry—and when it happened, the both of them were ecstatic.
It wasn’t as if they planned it, but fate worked out funnily sometimes. Even when you dated other people in the midst of unsure feelings in high school, you always found yourself returning to Jin. Whether it be in the form of comfort, or a laugh, or just a shoulder to lean on—you always found yourself on the front of his porch, eagerly waiting for another moment with him.
“I know,” you sigh with a small smile, “It’s crazy how long it’s been.”
“Thirty-two years,” she reminds.
You exhale, remember that you were in fact thirty-two this year. The thought that settles is one that is intrusive and annoying, purely because you couldn’t go a moment without remembering the divorce. Your age is another bitter reminder that you’ve really hit the mark with it, essentially starting over when you and Jin promised each other forever.
You take another sip to keep your tears behind.
“Anyway,” she continues as she rests her eyes on you. Her gaze is concerned and you’re stuttering, wondering if you were that obvious—if your face held all your emotions or if she was just that observant. When she speaks, you brace yourself for the worst. “I’ve been trying to contact that son of mine but he keeps sending me to his darned assistant.”
You relax ever so slightly as your lips twitch in a smile.
“Jiminie?” You ask amusedly.
“When he’s getting in the way of talking to my son, he’s a darned assistant,” she huffs, crossing her arms across her chest as you laugh.
“Even now, they’re inseparable,” you comment mindlessly, remembering all the times they used to get into trouble together in high school.
“For the wrong reasons,” she sighs, “That’s why I’m here, actually.”
You raise a brow, “Oh?”
“Seokjung’s planning on proposing,” she informs with an excited grin as your eyes widen.
“Oh my God,” you breath, equally as pleased to hear the news, “Finally? I’m so happy for him and Ah-reum.”
Your mother-in-law sighs wistfully as she smiles tenderly at you, reaching a hand out to squeeze yours as her eyes turn solemn.
“I am too,” she says softly, “My two son’s—Gosh.”
Your hand stiffens under her touch, but you don’t make an effort to correct her. She looks far too happy and emotional at the thought itself that you don’t have the heart to ruin that dream for her. You swallow the lump in your throat and the visual of the divorce papers that plague your mind as you offer a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, “I’m really happy for Seokjung.”
She nods, smiling at you before squeezing your hand again.
“I wanted to let you know myself,” she says, “I was meant to tell Jin but clearly, he’s caught up in whatever work he has,” she rolls her eyes before shooting you a pointed stare. “Make sure you make time for each other, even if he’s busy. That boy always drowns himself in work.”
Your face falls for a split second, but you immediately correct it when you realise the look of concern that marks her face.
You know her comment was made in good faith, she had no idea of your impending divorce … did she? But despite her voice mulling slightly under a whisper, you find that your heart betrays your blank face when it clenches. You should’ve made time for each other. Even if he was busy. You tried—and you failed.
“O-Of course,” you say, squeezing her hand in return.
“Make sure that the three of you spend time together,” she says softly, and you’re terrified that she knows when she mentions your son. “A relationship requires constant effort and dedication.”
“Of course,” you swallow, “I will.”
You hate yourself for lying to her, but you hope that she knows that you tried. That you really tried to pick up whatever that was lost—but some things would inevitably remain shattered.
“Tell Jin to take it easy,” she murmurs, “I worry for him sometimes.”
You nod your head mutely, agreeing silently.
“I’m”—she chokes, suddenly teary as your eyes widen in alarm—“I’m really glad that you have each other.”
It’s another blow that you receive, but force yourself to smile through.
“Eomeonim …” you say quietly, the guilt nabbing away at your heart.
She waves you off, laughing softly before she’s swabbing gently under her eyes to rid of the tears. And as always, she remains stunning as ever—the stark features of Jin apparent on her face, and the resemblance only makes your heart clench even further.
“Your mother and I would always joke about having our kids get married,” she reminisces as you smile tightly at her. “We never thought it would actually happen—but you and Jin …” she trails off with a fond smile, “It made sense. Like it was always meant to happen.”
You can’t take it anymore, but you weren’t allowed to pick your battles this time. You swallow the lump in your throat and hold her hand a little tighter as if an apology was worthy enough to be traced into the wrinkles of her palm. For now, this was all you could offer.
“Thank you, eomeonim,” you whisper, and it’s more than just the words she’s said, but how she’s treated you up until now. An apology also rests on your tongue, but that’s for a later date. When you and Jin no longer share the title of married.
“Don’t thank me,” she scoffs, “Thank you for making Jin’s life brighter. For bringing Jiho into this world.”
You swallow.
“Of course,” you smile, “He’s made mine too.”
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“You’re here,” Jimin blinks, opening the door to let you in as you give him a tight smile.
“I wish I wasn’t,” you mutter under your breath as the two of you walk side-by-side down a familiar hall.
“Listen—” he begins but you cut him off, already too tired to engage with him attempting to convince you otherwise on the divorce.
“I really can’t do this right now, Jimin,” you say quietly and he looks at you with an apologetic look that you ignore to save your heart from more tears. “I’m only here because Jin isn’t answering his mother’s damn calls.”
“He’s in the middle of an important business deal,” Jimin says weakly.
“When is he not?” You roll your eyes as you huff, feet clacking against the marble as you turn into a familiar corridor where your eyes rest on the plague with the name of your husband, a name that you’ve welcomed into your life and in your son's name—a name that you’ve grown up with. You push aside the ache in your heart as you reach towards the door to knock. “Listen, I know you’re his best friend and his assistant but … tell him to remember that his job isn’t the only important thing in his life, yeah?”
Jimin doesn’t say anything but waits with you, and you briefly hear the shuffling of feet from the other end. You can tell Jimin wants to say something with the way that he’s impatiently tapping his feet against the ground, and you don’t placate him like you usually do because you know that you weren’t ready to hear whatever he had to say.
The door swings open, and it isn’t Jin that you see. It’s—
“Isa,” you smile tightly.
“____,” she exclaims, immediately trotting over in her heels as she towers over you, arms wrapping you into a hug that you don’t expect. When she pulls away, you see her bright teeth in between her red lips. “You’re glowing! Are you pregnant?”
You shoot her a blank look, and you feel Jimin’s eyes widen.
“I’m not,” you say dryly.
“Oh,” she blinks, “Could’ve sworn you were,” she says off-handedly before she moves out the way, only for Jin to appear behind her with a vacant expression on his face, eyes immediately falling onto your unimpressed figure.
“____?” He furrows his eyebrows, “What are you doing here?”
You push past Isa, who you briefly see from the corner of your eye, press two rather friendly kisses onto your husband—well, soon to be ex-husbands—cheeks. She’s always done that, claiming that it was from her French roots even if you knew deep down that she had the hots for her husband. You don’t want to know why she’s here, appropriately right when you and Jin were in the middle of a divorce. Unless she’s representing him as his lawyer, you didn’t want to humour the thought.
“Your mother says you aren’t answering her,” you don’t spare him another glance, or Jimin, who is all but offering you a timid smile right before he shuts the door to the office, leaving you and Jin alone.
“I’ve been busy,” he replies.
“You couldn’t even just send a damn text to your own mother?” you ask irritatedly as you plop into a seat in front of his desk.
“I had Jimin do it,” he says with a frown.
You roll your eyes, bitter that you had to be here—bitter about the divorce—bitter about gorgeous Isa who just left his office. You were bitter about everything, and now you were here, with your soon-to-be ex-husband.
“Really, Jin,” you deadpan, “You couldn’t even spare two seconds to let your mom know that you were—I don’t know—alive?”
He sighs as if you were pointing out irrational facts and not attempting to get him to do things himself for once. To maintain relationships with people without a damn middleman. You were a victim once, and you sure as hell wouldn’t let his mom suffer the same painful fate as you did.
“It’s been hectic at the office,” he says curtly, “I did eventually get back to her.”
“Yeah,” you scoff, “After she visited me at my office.”
“She visited you?” he furrows his brows.
You roll your eyes, “It doesn’t matter. She told me that your brother is planning on proposing and she’s expecting us to be there at the engagement party.”
“I know,” he sighs, “I don’t think I can make it.”
You still.
“The investors planned for a meeting that same week and I—”
“He’s your brother,” you splutter in disbelief, rage slowly assimilating in your blood when Jin shoots you with another blank look that you’ve grown to resent, especially recently.
“I can’t do anything about the investors, ____,” he frowns.
“You’re the CEO!” you balk, “You call the shots. You literally make the rules. He’s getting engaged and you can’t even try to make it?”
His brows turn downwards at your harsh tone, but you were unbothered. The disbelief that marks your face is reflective of how your heart slowly burns in anger, the way that your fists clench by your side. Even now, as you attempt to knock some sense of rationality into Jin—you find yourself exhausted. It’s because—this—is familiar. It’s the same routine you found yourself fighting against, now only applied to his direct family. If you weren’t considered that.
“They’re flying in from the States,” he says pointedly.
“And that matters more than your brother because?” You scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, “Don’t be fucking selfish, Seokjin.”
You don’t think you’ve referred to him as his full name in years. Even before the two of you dated. You always called him Jin because it was more intimate that way. Only business associates that he was professional with called him Seokjin. It was an unspoken rule that Seokjin was the persona he adapted with people that he needed on his side, not people he wanted by his side.
You’re too busy seething to see the way his face drops ever so slightly, but he’s quick to correct himself when he purses his lips at you.
“I’m at crossroads, ____,” he snaps, “On one hand, it’s my brother who I’m going to disappoint, or—it’s the ten investors that are eager on investing in this company. I can’t win—and right now, I need them on my side.”
“I can’t believe that you actually need to choose who’s more important right now,” you laugh humourlessly, eyes meeting his for a split second as you frown. “It’s your family, Seokjin. It’ll always be your family. You choose your family—you—you choose the people you love.”
Your words are venomous and purposeful when you spit at him, immediately pushing yourself off the seat. Your words refer to more than his brother, or his mother. It’s personal—and it hurts. You didn’t want him to see you cry, you don’t think he’d care anyway.
“Wait,” he sighs, following you until he’s at your door, hand blocking you from leaving, “I …”
You turn around, eyes fluttering shut as you even out your breathing. When you open them, it’s intuitive for you to believe that you were able to read him, especially after a decade of being together—but you can’t. Your eyes are blurred with more than just your fatigue, but it’s disappointment too.
“What?” you sigh, “I don’t—I don’t care what you do Seokjin. But just know that when you’re closing whatever damned business deal you have for profits—your family is missing you.”
You turn to leave, not expecting him to do anything further than where you’ve left it at—but his hand reaches for your shoulder to stop you, your body tensing at his touch that you haven’t felt in a long time.
“I’ll,” he begins, nibbling on his lip when you raise a brow at him. It’s the most you’ve gotten out from him in a long time, but it’s not enough for you to read what the hell is going on in his mind. “I’ll be there.”
You roll your eyes, “Whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it happen.”
You go to push his hand off but his grip remains firm on your shoulder as he furrows his brows at you.
“We’ll go together,” he says.
You blink.
“I can go there myself,” you clip back curtly.
“They don’t know,” he blinks, “Right?”
He’s talking about the divorce.
Your body stills under his grip as you scowl.
“Of course they don’t,” you snap, “I won’t do that to your mom,” you say softly, “Not now.”
He doesn’t ask you to elaborate, even when your eyes turn sad as they dart to the floor.
“Then we’ll go together,” he says simply, “It’s easier that way.”
You don’t argue anymore because your mind just recalls the conversation you shared with his mother, the woman who’s simultaneously raised you along with your own mother. The woman you’ve shared fond memories with, and the woman whose heart you were inevitably going to break with the news of the divorce.
“Fine,” you sigh, finally shrugging off his hand as you turn towards the door to finally leave.
The door opens, and you’re already halfway out when his voice interrupts you.
“Your dress,” he says softly.
You stop, turning your head slowly as you raise a brow.
“… my dress?” You look down at your attire and you note that it’s a simple knee-length dress that you’ve had for years. It was strapless, but casual enough for you to wear on a daily basis—and definitely nothing noteworthy about it.
“You wore it during our honeymoon,” he states as your body locks at the mention of the memory.
You don’t even remember if you did—so you can’t confirm whether or not he was pulling your leg. But the look that Jin sends you is … you can’t quite put a word to it but it looks soft. Gentle, almost fond. But it goes as quick as it comes before he’s offering you a small smile.
“I don’t remember,” you say bluntly.
His face remains blank, even if there’s a slight drop at his lips.
“Well,” he clears his throat before he steps out of the way to make space for your departure, “You look beautiful.”
The compliment steals your breath away, not because he’s never said it before but because it’s unexpected. It’s unexpected because you were divorcing him, and you haven’t heard those words leave his lips in a long time—directed to you, at least. You’re breathless because your heart is ramming against your chest, and there’s a painful feeling lingering.
You also remember the woman that’s left his office. You know it’s irrational for you to feel this way when you were the one that suggested the divorce. But it’s only proof at his options, especially when he was … he was him.
It’s hope—but you’re not an idiot to allow yourself to burn twice.
“I,” you croak, shaking your head as you manage a tight nod, “Thank you.”
When you leave, you have to force your tears back—without sparing another glance at Jin. When Jimin passes by you, he knows well enough not to ask.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“Have you got everything?” Taehyung asks, helping you with the bag filled with Jiho’s things as you snort at his overeagerness of getting you out of the office.
“Yes, Tae, I have,” you say with an amused grin. “If I didn’t know better I’d think you actually cared about my well-being.”
He gasps with a faux sense of offence as he places a hand on his chest, shooting you a look that you roll your eyes at.
“Of course I do!” He pouts, “My boss is getting the break she deserves,” he says before peering down to Jiho, who’s tiredly dozing off in your arms since it was in the wee hours of the morning, “But I’ll definitely miss this one.”
He pokes Jiho softly on the cheek but your son doesn’t even so budge. He’s exhausted, and you were too—but you were more used to staying up late packing last-minute than your son was so you brush his hair gently before placing a soft peck to the crown of his head.
You know Taehyung will miss Jiho, purely because you’ve been at the office more than your home through the past week. You couldn’t bear to return to a space that was void and only had the title of a home when it didn’t feel like it anymore. It was the most difficult explaining to Jiho, who sought his dad’s attention and you couldn’t give it to him. A business trip was the best you got.
“Thank you, by the way,” you smile gratefully at your assistant as the three of you are taken down to the lobby of your office via the lift.
“Don’t,” he says sternly as you giggle softly at his tone, “Thank you for leaving.”
“I knew it,” you narrow your eyes as you stick your tongue out at him. “You’re just happy that I’m gone.”
“It’s four days,” he reminds, “You need a longer break. You’ve been working non-stop.”
You know his jibe is stern despite his light tone, purely because he’s aware of your tendency to ignore your problems by overworking yourself. He’s seen you devote all your energy to reports and analysing data than acknowledge the impending shatter in your heart.
“That’s long enough,” you sigh, “Make sure you—”
“Yes,” he groans as the two of you finally reach the lobby, offering a polite smile toward the receptionist as he returns the gesture. “Did you forget that I’m your assistant? God forbid I’m incompetent.”
You sniff even if you don’t disagree. You didn’t hire him just because he was your friend, but because he’s proven himself over and over again on his capabilities, you needed someone that was lax enough to balance out your perfectionist tendencies but also precise with his work. Taehyung was the perfect mixture of that—so it made sense that he’s stuck with you since you first hired him.
“Call me if you need anything,” you remind as the two of you spot Jin’s car, a sleek range rover fit for the rather long travel. You let out an exhale at the prospect of being in a car with your own husband for the next four hours as you travel out to his family vacation home, but your son needed you—and he needed his dad, so you brace yourself.
“Yes,” he sighs, and you see Jin step out of the car, a t-shirt and sweats combo that you adored him in. You look away.
“Taehyung,” you hear Jin greet your assistant as the two males engage in a rather amicable bro-hug.
“Hey, hyung,” he smiles softly, “How are you?”
You busy yourself with making sure that Jiho’s head doesn’t slip off your shoulders, but you note that your son’s awake this time—sensing the presence of his father as he groggily flutters his eyes open to search for him.
“Could’ve been better,” Jin returns, though not unkindly as his eyes dart towards his son, eyes softening immediately when Jiho calls for him through a mumble.
“Daddy?” He mumbles, immediately shaking out of your grasp as he extends his arms to be held by Jin. You swallow, but you allow Jin to take him from you. He hasn’t seen your son in over a week, and you would never be the person that deprived him from his own blood.
“Jiho,” he whispers, “Tired, bud?”
Your son nods his head, immediately snuggling into the comfort of his father’s chest as you force yourself to look away, distracting your mind as you help Taehyung load your belongings into the boot of Jin’s car.
“Where were you?” Your son asks innocently, “Mama said trip.”
“Yeah,” Jin says breathlessly, eyes meeting yours for a split second as you look away. “Missed you so much.”
“We miss you too,” Jiho pouts, and you don’t correct him when he alludes to you either.
“You okay?” Taehyung whispers, hand clasping your shoulder as you blink away the heat behind your eyelids. It was too early to cry, and you’ve spent the past week crying at random intervals so you were tired of shedding tears.
“I’ll survive,” you smile tightly as Taehyung finally loads the last bag, closing the boot with a button before shuffling back to the curb where Jin continues to cradle your son in his arms.
You’ve known him before you could properly speak, and you intimately recognise the expression on his face. He looks … sad. And it’s the most emotion you’ve seen on his face ever since you approached him with the divorce. You know that the worst part of it all is that Jiho is caught in the crossfire, and what hurts the most is that you didn’t want him to be.
“Thank you,” Jin looks over to Taehyung before he reaches out to give him a semi-awkward hug due to the little boy in his arms. “For taking care of the both of them.”
You almost don’t catch it, but you do despite the hushed tone he takes. Your eyes dart to the ground before you head towards the door to the passenger seat, already too overwhelmed at the break of dawn.
You enter the car, taking a deep breath to even out your breathing and force your tears back. You hated yourself for crying so easily but you knew that it wasn’t just your crybaby tendencies, but it was the pent up emotions that you’ve suppressed for months resurfacing after months of repression. You catch the two men through the side-mirror in a rather intense conversation, though you don’t hear anything of what they’re saying. You know they’re not raising their voices because Jiho finds it peaceful enough to drift off into slumber.
When Taehyung catches your eyes through the side-mirror, he offers you a smile, one that you can’t quite read before he’s patting Jin on the back and giving him one last solemn look.
He’s quick to set Jiho at the backseat, fastening him in the booster seat and placing a soft pillow to support his neck. Your heart both grows fond and tighter when he places a soft kiss on your son’s forehead before carefully shutting the door, quickly entering the driver’s seat as he fastens himself in.
“There’s pineapple juice and gummies, by the way,” Jin breaks the silence as your eyes snap to his figure.
“I know you don’t like travelling without them,” he mentions while he simultaneously setting up the GPS.
“I—thank you,” you reply softly, eyes dropping to the middle console, and in fact, spotting your favourite brand of pineapple juice and gummies sitting comfortably, waiting for your consumption.
You swallow, deciding against digging in immediately.
“My phone’s already connected to the Bluetooth so you can play any song,” he tells you, “The password’s the same.”
Your breath hitches. His password, the one he’s kept since college even if you’ve berated him for it on multiple occasions because of how predictable it was. Your anniversary date, the day when he first asked you to be his girlfriend. Even after you got married, he never changed it to your wedding anniversary date because he didn’t need to. He was that sentimental, proposing to you on the same day as when he first asked you out.
God, what was he doing to your heart?
You don’t say anything when you reach for his phone, and it’s like the universe is dead-set on reminding you of all the memories you shared with him when you spot the picture at the back of his clear phone case.
A polaroid of the both of you on your wedding night, face smushed with cake as the two of you double over in laughter.
Don’t cry, you tell yourself.
You type in the password when Jin finally ignites the engine, pulling out of the lobby as you finally start your four-hour journey. When you scroll through his phone to find the music app, you’re also surprised to see a familiar playlist.
“You still listen to it?” you find yourself asking, despite your heart clenching again.
Jin looks over his shoulder to catch a glance at his phone that was in your hands to see what you were talking about before he nods.
“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I don’t really listen to anything else.”
It’s the playlist the two of you made when you were rather drunk one night during your marriage. A random playlist filled with songs that didn’t really go well together, from upbeat tracks to mellow ballads that have your heart weeping and to R&B songs that set the mood.
It’s the millionth time that you swallow your tears, and you know it’s not going to be the last. It’s because it’s been less than twenty minutes back in close vicinity with Jin when you’re reminded that your lives are both so intertwined with one another that every aspect of his and your lives have remainders of your essences. Whether it be the scarf you precariously spotted at the back of the seat you remember leaving, or whether it was the keychain that dangles from his rearview mirror—or the damn playlist.
It was everything, and it hurt that you had to let it go.
You play a song that’s in the middle. Safe. A quiet tune that filters through the speakers as you turn the volume lower so that it wouldn’t startle your son awake.
“If you get tired halfway just let me know and I can take over,” you inform him.
You’re surprised to hear Jin scoff with a shake of his head, though when you turn to look at him, there’s a small smile on his face.
“You’re a terrible driver, so no,” he laughs.
You gasp, squinting your eyes at him.
You’ve gotten … better. Though your better was still debatably worse than the average person, it was progress nevertheless!
“I won’t get us killed,” you hiss at him, pouting as you cross your arms across your chest, “Besides, I don’t trust myself to drive if you’re not around, anyway.”
You don’t realise what you said, or the implications behind it. But you think Jin does when he flicks his eyes over to you, staring softly as you blatantly miss it to continue pouting while you stare forward, grumbling about being a better driver as he can’t take his eyes off of you.
“Don’t worry,” he says so quietly that you almost miss it, “Get some rest. I’ll drive us.”
You open your mouth to argue but the look he gives you makes you clamp your mouth shut in defeat. In all the times you’ve travelled by car with Jin, you don’t think you’ve ever driven the both of you, or even when Jiho became an addition to the family, because Jin was always so insistent on doing the heavy loaded things.
It was something that both annoyed you, but you were grateful for. You knew when Jin offered to do stereotypically husband things such as carrying the groceries, building furniture or driving you everywhere—it never came from a place where he believed you couldn’t do it. He knew you could because whenever he wasn’t around you did those things yourself, and dare you say, even better than him (with the exception of the driving). It was because he wanted to do these things for you, to have you worry about nothing but just yourself, him and Jiho.
The thoughts plague your mind, and suddenly everything is bitter again. You almost deluded yourself into thinking that things were normal and this was a normal family trip. But it wasn’t. Because you were inevitably going to get divorced, once he signed those papers.
“Hey, Jin?” you call.
He hums noncommittally as you fiddle with your fingers.
“When are you going to sign the papers?”
The question stills in the tense air, and you don’t catch the way his shoulders lock into position at your question.
“Soon,” he says curtly.
You nod your head slowly, eyes drifting out the window as you keep your sigh to yourself.
Yeah, it’d be over soon.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“You’re going the wrong way.”
“I’m literally following the GPS,” he says dryly.
“Then the GPS is wrong,” you snap, “The service is horrible here—god—make a left.”
“I’m not going to be listening to a person who gets mixed up with East and West,” he deadpans.
“That was like—ages ago! I’ve changed!”
“Not taking the chance,” he snorts, going against your very orders of turning left as he makes a right, shooting you a smug look over his shoulder as you glare at him.
“Pull over, I’m driving because I clearly don’t remember taking this road the last time.”
“Roads change, ____,” he groans, “Infrastructure and public goods! It’s government-funded so our tax money damn well better be used for good.”
“Still,” you say petulantly, “You’ve been driving the entire time—it’s time to switch.”
“I never agreed to that,” he says pointedly as you hear your son humming along to the song, giggling every once in a while when you’d get particularly frustrated with Jin.
“You’re going to cramp,” you say.
“I won’t,” he sighs before looking over to you, then into your lap where the gummies lay. “How about you feed me instead?”
You still at the suggestion, the rather intimate one in fact. Though you’ve done this a million times before, bickering during road trips and feeding him—it feels different now. But you know your son is watching, even if he doesn’t understand the severity of the situation, and you didn’t want to throw him off.
“Keep your eyes on the road,” you grumble before pouring out some gummies into your hand and shoving it towards him.
His eyes briefly cast downwards before ignoring your hand, eyes returning to the road as you gawk at his blatant dismissal.
“Um, hello?” you say in disbelief, “Gummies?”
You wiggle your hand in front of his face but he’s still ignoring you, a somewhat smug expression on his face as you scowl even further.
“Do you want gummies or not?” You snap.
“I do,” he shrugs, “I asked you to feed me, didn’t I?”
You give him a bland look.
“They’re literally right there.”
“You know what feeding means, right?” he sighs dramatically, “You do that with Jiho. You know—feeding someone. Putting food in their mouth.”
“I’ll put something in your mouth all right,” you grit as he grins, “My fist.”
“Please,” he whines as you roll your eyes, “My hands are on the steering wheel. You’re always telling me to keep two hands on the wheel yet you’re making me feed myself?” He pouts and you can’t believe this is a thirty-five-year-old man that’s speaking. “That hardly seems—”
You’ve had enough of his complaints as you begrudgingly smack your hand towards his mouth, effectively feeding him a gummy as he nearly chokes while his eyes bulge out of his sockets.
“Ow!—what the f—?” you glare at him at his near slip up as he clears his throat, “That hurt.”
“Oh, really,” you hum blandly, “Would you like another?” You smile plastically at him as he pouts.
“Yes please, but spare my lips,” he mutters.
You roll your eyes but listen to him anyway. You didn’t want to startle him into swerving off the road so you feed him the next gummy gentler. But you’ve underestimated Jin’s ability to be exasperating as he ends up biting your finger in retaliation for your previous stunt.
“Ow!” you hiss, glaring at him as you go to flick his forehead.
All he does is snicker, even if he does manage to dodge your finger.
“Revenge,” he says childishly, sticking a tongue out at you.
“You’re so annoying,” you seethe.
“You love it,” he smiles over his shoulder—and you freeze.
He realises what he’s said only when he spots your frozen expression. He’s about to rectify the mistake and dissipate the tension that arose, but your son is intercepting before Jin can make the shot.
“Love!” he giggles, innocent and childlike, “Love mama and daddy.”
Your eyes filter to the back as you see your son giggling, cheeks bulged as he smiles widely at you. For a split second, you’re reminded of Jin when he was a toddler, with puffy cheeks and a cheeky grin as your eyes soften at him. He really did look like Jin, much to your initial disappointment when he looked more like Jin’s child than your own. Even if your parents and in-laws said that Jiho had your eyes.
“Love you, bubs,” you coo, reaching out to squeeze his chubby fingers as he smiles wider.
“Love you,” Jin replies as well, eyes soft when he catches his son’s expression through the rearview mirror.
“Say it!” he babbles, huffing as you raise a brow.
“Love you, Jiho—”
“No no no,” he harrumphs, cutely folding his arms across his chest as you attempt to figure out what his toddler mind was getting at. “Each other—mama and daddy.”
You get it soon enough, and your expression drops completely as you feel the anxiety rise in your throat.
You were getting a divorce. Your son had no idea. He asked you to declare your love to Jin. Why did you feel oddly targeted right now, by a four-year-old, no less!
“Jiho—” you laugh, attempting to distract him but your son is persistent.
“Mama,” he scolds with a frown and you curse yourself for giving him the one trait of your own that you couldn’t bear to deal with yourself, “Say.”
You glance over to Jin who’s already giving you a passing look, a rather earnest expression marring his face as you clear your throat. Suddenly, everything’s more intense, and all you can see is his face. There was a time where the two of you abused your I love you’s that it was the first thing you heard in the morning and the last thing you heard at night. So why was it so difficult now? Why was it difficult to tell a little white lie in front of your son?
Perhaps it’s because the love never disappeared, from your end at least. And maybe that’s why all of this is all the more painful.
Before your son can throw a tantrum at your silence, Jin is reaching over the console to grasp your hand in his in a familiar manner as he brings your knuckle up to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to it.
When your head turns to him with your eyes wide in shock, he doesn’t break eye contact even as you’re about to yell at him for not looking at the road.
“Love you,” he whispers, and you don’t know if Jiho had even heard it with how soft he’s said it, but you think he does because he stops whining.
All you can do is stare at him, especially at how earnestly the confession leaves his lips. But you remember that it’s fruitless to keep hope, to have your heart flutter at his low voice—because the divorce papers existed, and it’s the first time in a while that you’ve heard it, and it was only because your son demanded so.
You pull your hand away, albeit roughly as your eyes dart out the window to distract yourself, to suck up the tears again.
You’re looking away quick enough that you don’t catch the crestfallen expression on Jin’s face.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“Jiho-yah,” Jin’s mother immediately runs up to your son rather than greet you or Jin as your son excitedly receives the hug, squeezing into his grandmother’s arms as he lifts him up.
“Halmeoni,” he giggles, “Miss you!”
Your face softens as you see the way Jin’s mother presses wet smooches on both of your son’s cheeks, accompanied slowly by your father-in-law, who’s far more mellowed down than his wife, as he greets you with a wide grin.
“Is this a way to greet your father-in-law?” He jokes when you simply smile at him as you roll your eyes at his light jibe.
“Come here,” you sigh playfully, opening your arms to embrace him as you feel the comfort of a familiar father figure.
“Yes, let’s ignore your actual son, right?” Jin snorts, huffing as he lugs your belongings onto the porch.
His mother’s ears perk up as she shoots him a stern glare that still doesn’t fail to have him cowering. Mother’s really are terrifying when they wanted to be.
“At least she responds to messages,” his mother narrows her eyes at him as Jin smiles meekly in response, probably regretting his words, “I know you’re grown but I’m still your mother—I’ll take you out of that damned company and put you under house arrest."
“Mom,” he exasperates, ears flushed as you snicker at him.
“House arrest?” Jiho repeats, confused.
You pick him up before pressing a kiss in between his brows to soothe the furrow.
“Daddy’s being dumb,” you explain.
“Gang up on me, all right,” Jin snorts, already heading towards the door to bring your stuff in.
His father pats him on the back before shooting him a pointed look.
“A word of advice son,” he murmurs with a low voice, “you’re never right. Your wife is.”
Jin sighs, and you can’t help the amused grin that makes its way onto your face. Even if he had referred to you as his wife—and you knew that it wouldn’t be the case for long, it feels nice to be with them again, even if your utopia would eventually get destroyed.
“The guest room on the second floor is for the kids,” his mother informs, “Jin’s cousins are bringing their children along as well so Jiho won’t be alone.”
You smile gratefully towards her as you guide Jiho towards the home, while the rest of them follow slowly behind.
When you enter, you’re immediately greeted by Jin’s older brother, another familiar figure that you’re grinning widely at as he enthusiastically extends his arms that you immediately jump into.
Jiho’s following close by, tiny figure wrapping around his uncle’s legs as Seokjung picks the little one up with ease.
“Ah, my favourite sister,” he coos playfully, pinching your cheek as you roll your eyes.
“Your only sister,” you correct pointedly.
He’s always referred to you as his sister, even before you married Jin—purely because he was there for you like an older brother was. Since he was two years older than Jin, meaning he was five years older than you, he always looked out for you and took care of you when you were children—and you were immensely grateful for that.
“Semantics,” he waves you off before pressing a kiss to Jiho’s cheek, “Missed you, buddy.”
“You too samchon,” Jiho quips back cheerfully, “Noona?”
He’s referring to Ah-reum, and Seokjung only grins wider.
“She’s coming in two days,” he informs in a hushed whisper, “I’m going to propose to her.”
Jiho tilts his head to the side cutely in confusion.
“Pro-propose?” He mumbles as you laugh softly, patting his head in fondness.
“I want to marry noona,” he whispers with a wink.
“Like—mama? Daddy?” he gasps.
“Like mama and daddy,” Seokjung nods as you swallow.
You look away, feeling like a fraud, especially when at that very moment, Jin brushes up against you with a gentle hand to the small of your back that you flinch at. The look he sends you is concerned, but you know it’s because of what his brother had said. Of course, it was, it couldn’t be anything else.
“Come Jiho,” you say softly, “Let’s get you into your room, yeah?”
He nods eagerly before you’re shooting Seokjung an apologetic smile.
“Hey,” he calls right as you turn, Jin close by your side. “Are you … are you okay?”
The question makes you freeze for a moment as you attempt to school your face and power through the grimace that almost appears.
“Of course,” you clip, “Don’t worry about me. You’ve got a girlfriend to propose to,” you say through a tight smile before squeezing his shoulder before you’re turning on your heel, face immediately dropping.
Jin almost chases after you, but he decides against it when you distract yourself by fiddling with the hem of your son’s pants. It was a habit of yours, finding solace in your son because he’d never do you or anyone wrong, though you could’ve been biased because you played a part in creating him and pushing him out of your vagina.
He wouldn’t do you wrong, you think as he mumbles about marriage under his breath. You really wished he wasn’t so curious.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“I forgot how big your family was,” you say a little breathlessly as you escape the fifth aunt of the hour asking about your life and work. That was fine, small talk was okay. Not asking when baby number two was coming along when you were divorcing their precious nephew.
“Sorry,” Jin winces, moving over so that you could plop onto the rattan chair, “it gets bigger every year because of the kids.”
You know that’s true because, for some reason, Jin’s family was as fertile as a fertility clinic. You were sure that they could single-handedly repopulate the human species if Thanos really did snap half the universe away. It’s also probably the reason why Jin managed to get you pregnant three months into your marriage, four years ago.
“Jiho’s trying to break up an argument between the twins,” you sigh when you tilt your head ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of your son helplessly standing in the middle of two older kids as they banter back and forth. Your son was too sweet for his own good, but it was also way too amusing to see his eyebrows furrow as he attempts to get their attention.
“Maybe we should tell our son to not waste his time doing impossible things,” he snorts.
“It’s good character development,” you reason, “It’ll teach him to acknowledge his potential.”
Jin shoots you a dry look before turning his head to the scene where the twins were now tugging at each other’s locks like they were in the tug of war as your son can only watch the scene unfold. You really should tell him that that wasn’t how you resolved conflict, even if their parents humourlessly stand by and allow it to happen.
“I’m not giving our son ammunition for his villain origin story,” he scoffs, “I’m going there—”
“Relax,” you stop him from moving any further with a gentle hand to his bicep out of habit, even if your brain stutters for a split second as you clear your throat, “Your mom’s got him.”
As you’d also like to call her, the heroine of the day, Jin’s mother picks up her grandson before cooing something that you can’t hear from how far you are. You’re thankful when she makes eye contact with you, offering a wink before she’s showing him off to her family members.
The sight makes your heart fond because everyone seemed to love Jiho, you really don’t blame them. You fell in love with Jiho before he was born and you would love him until you didn’t know love anymore. You never knew that being a mother would be this monumental for you, in fact, you never knew if you wanted children anyway.
But when things were … brighter. Jin was the only reason you needed. Then, you wouldn’t have wanted to do this parenting thing with anyone else. The bitter thought of co-parenting plagues your mind and the anxiety of attempting to explain the situation to your son doesn’t ease your nerves at all. Even thinking about telling Jin’s family has you feeling nauseous—you were the real villain. The heartbreaker of it all.
“It’s been a while,” he says, snapping you out of your thoughts as you blink up at him.
“It’s been a while since we,” he looks down to his cup before throwing back the last bit of orange juice in it, “Since we had a vacation.”
You snort, “I’d hardly call this a vacation. There are screaming kids and your brother is having ten mental breakdowns a day before the actual proposal.”
“I mean, I guess,” he shrugs, “We just haven’t had the time—to take one. This is nice.”
You don’t know what he’s implying but you know it makes your heart clench at the insinuation. You almost wanted to bitterly add that you tried to make time despite your own busy schedule. It was him that put it off. It was him that didn’t have the time.
“Yeah,” you say quietly, too tired to fight, “It is.”
“Why”—he hesitates for a second as his eyebrows furrow while you raise a brow at the sudden jerk of his tone—“why did you suggest—?”
Your head turns, and you recognise the voice before you see the approaching figure and you already feel sick to your stomach. Not because you knew what Jin was going to say before he was cut off, but because of the person that comes into your vision. You should’ve seen it coming, really, because this was Seokjung’s engagement party and it wouldn’t make sense if—
“Chahee?” Jin greets in confusion before he’s being pulled into a tight embrace.
“Don’t be a stranger,” she whines, “Weren’t you going to come to say hi?”
Your jaw ticks as you look away from the scene before you.
When there was you and Jin, there was also Chahee and Jin. They’ve never dated, though you knew that if the opportunity presented itself, she’d be the first person up in line anyway. But with every relationship, also came with relationship troubles and unfortunately for you, Chahee was the instigator for most of your relationship insecurities with Jin.
It’s because you weren’t the only person that was a constant in Jin’s life—she was too.
Of course, she’d be here, and of course, she’d still look at Jin with a determination to make him hers. Even if you’re here, face blank as you wait and see if she’d actually acknowledge you this time.
“I,” he swallows, eyes darting to you, fully aware of what her presence implies. But your head is trained to the side, pointedly ignoring it for the sake of your sanity. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
She scoffs as if he’s said something absurd, which in retrospect, he did—because clearly, she’d be here. Where he goes, she’ll try her best to be there.
“Of course, I am!” She chirps, “It’s Seokjung’s big day—and besides, I missed you.”
You nearly roll your eyes to the back of your head and the audacity of this fucking chick. Sure, you were divorcing him, but to everyone else—you were his wife. And you were very much still together, even if it felt like it’s ended months ago.
“It’s good to see you,” he smiles politely, not making much effort to pull away when she rubs at the back of his neck. You’d clock her if you weren’t civilised, but instead, you take a sip of your drink and hope it doesn’t end up in her face.
“You too,” she smiles flirtatiously before she decides to finally acknowledge you. You think it’s a new record. “____, you’re here.”
She sounds much less enthusiastic than before, and you don’t blame her—nor do you plaster a smile on your face. Instead, you tilt the drink up to her and nod your head, giving her a less than a satisfactory greeting. You couldn’t even bother clarifying the obvious because you were Seokjung’s sister-in-law, Jin’s wife; and the mother to the adorable boy who’s currently stealing the show. Silence was a pettier option.
Her fake smile drops when she realises that you weren’t bothered, and you’re glad she doesn’t attempt to be plastic with you anymore when you’re fully aware that she’d sleep with Jin if given the chance.
“What’s up with her?” You hear her mutter to him as you roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to leave the two of them alone.
Alarmed, Jin hastily grabs your arm before you can leave, “She’s—uh, not feeling well.”
“I’m feeling—”
“Acting up at a family event?” Chahee scoffs. You would seriously slap her.
“Listen—” you sigh.
“Pregnancy,” Jin blurts as you nearly stumble from how flabbergasted you are, “You know hormones—not easy.”
You would seriously slap him too.
“You’re … pregnant?” she says slowly, jaw slackening as you see her eyes darken.
“Don’t listen—”
“We need to get you indoors,” Jin smiles tightly, “The sun—yeah. Not good for the baby.”
Before you can even get another word in, Jin’s dragging you into the house as you yelp, spotting the last glare that Chahee sends you before she’s downing the alcoholic beverage in one-go and stomping off somewhere.
When you’re settled into a private corner in the kitchen, only then do you yank away your arm from Jin with a menacing glare.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he sighs, “She was—she’s crazy.”
“And you had to be crazy too?” you ask incredulously, “How the fuck would telling her that I’m pregnant solve anything?”
“It’s to get her to back off!” he hisses.
“If a baby would get her to back off then she would’ve done that when I was pregnant with Jiho,” you say dryly.
“I panicked, okay,” he exasperates.
You scowl.
“Well fix it,” you snap, “We’re getting divorced, Jin. Chahee’s going to run her mouth and if it gets to any of your family members then there’s no way we can break our split to them.”
You sound much more bitter than you’d anticipated, but who would sound neutral or happy when speaking about a divorce? With someone you still cared deeply about, no less. But you’re slightly surprised when you see Jin’s face harden at the reminder.
“Is that what you care about?” he blinks.
You give him a weird look before sighing, turning your back to him as you find yourself a glass to pour some water.
“Jin, it’s due time,” you sigh, “I don’t want to make this harder for your family—”
“For them,” he laughs humourlessly, “You’re thinking about how the divorce is going to be hard for them.”
You blink at his sharp tone.
“… yes?” you say slowly, “We grew up together, Jin. Obviously the divorce would crush them.”
“You”—he blinks—“you’re thinking about them but you didn’t for one second to wonder how I felt?”
You freeze.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah,” he exhales with a tight chuckle, “You really decided that it was over by yourself, didn’t you?”
You don’t appreciate his tone, nor do you appreciate the accusation. Not when you’ve spent literal months and sleepless nights agonising over your decision while you mulled every possible solution, crying over the demise and when you finally decided to take that step forward. You don’t appreciate it—especially when you did your best.
“You didn’t say anything!” you seethe. “You never say anything! You took the damn papers and flipped through to them like it was one of your business contracts.” “How did you expect me to react?” he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air as his voice raises. “I was caught off-guard!"
You scoff, “Really? That’s your excuse?” You narrow your eyes at him as you jab a finger into his chest. “Don’t give me shit for not considering how you felt when you’ve given me no indication that you gave a shit about this marriage at all.”
“Of course I give a shit about this marriage!” He says in disbelief.
“Do you, Seokjin?” you say bitterly, and the name returns along with the drop in his expression. “You don’t. I don’t know what you feel about anything anymore. It’s stopped being a marriage a long time ago. The divorce would’ve come either way.” You finish in a whisper.
“And you decided that for us?” ye snaps.
“Yes, Seokjin, I did,” you sneer, “I decided for us because we don’t even talk anymore. Every time I try to reach out to you—I took ten steps backwards from where I started and I can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue feeling like a placeholder in this marriage instead of your wife.”
“You’re not—” his eyes soften as he reaches out to you while you flinch, eyes darting to the ground.
“Don’t,” you whisper harshly, “Don’t you dare comfort me now, Kim Seokjin. Not when it took the actual divorce for you to be apologetic.”
The kitchen is silent, and it’s deafening, especially when the outside chatter filters in through the slips of the divider. You know they can’t see you through the tinted windows, but it’s a stark contrast with how people are outside laughing while your marriage falls apart under the same roof.
“So that’s it?” he says softly, “Ten years of dating and four years of marriage?”
“Don’t you dare,” you repeat again, weaker, “I wanted this to work out more than anyone else.”
“Then why aren’t you fighting,” he hisses, stepping closer as he attempts to get you to look at him.
You can’t.
“I’ve been fighting,” you return vehemently, though your resolve is weak at best. “I’ve been fighting on my own for the past four months to save this marriage and you—you just …” your eyes flutter shut as you feel the first tear fall. You don’t want to look at him. “You didn’t fight, Seokjin. You were the one that did this to us.”
“____,” he calls your name.
You step away, furiously swiping under your eyes as you attempt to keep the last few bits of your tears back.
“No more burdens, Seokjin,” you smile sadly, “Stop making this harder than it has to be and sign the papers.”
“You should go look for Chahee,” you say softly, and you know your words are purposeful with its double-meaning.
You’re already excusing yourself to your room, the godforsaken room you were forced to share with Jin before you catch the way his face drops completely.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
It’s been radio silent between you and Jin ever since your conversation from yesterday, and you’re both thankful and frustrated. It’s proven difficult to maintain an amicable distance from him when you were meant to be in love and married, along with your son who’s none the wiser.
Seokjung’s nervously pacing back and forth in the living room, but it’s not because of how large his family is—or that he has an audience to please with his grand show. It’s the prospect of proposing to Ah-reum, even if he was madly in love with her.
Right now, he’s not listening to anyone, even his own mother, the same person that would play the level-headed role in situations like these. It’s almost concerning when he mutters incoherencies under his breath, a slip-of the tongue that revealed his fear and desire to leave.
Your eyes widen as you walk towards the anxious man, leaving Jiho with your father-in-law who only smiles at you gratefully.
“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to clasp his shoulder as he nearly stumbles from being startled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine,” he exhales, rubbing a hand across his face before his eyes are nervously darting towards the door where Ah-reum could enter at any moment, according to his cousin, “God—I’m going to puke."
“You’re okay,” you reassure him gently, eyes searching for his as he nearly doubles over in anxiety, “You’re good.”
“Am I?” he chokes, “God, I haven’t felt this nervous ever since I had to submit my Master’s thesis.”
You snort, even if you pat his back affectionately.
“It’s normal to feel nervous,” you promise.
“Is it?” he says softly, “I love her—I do. But … but why does this feel so scary?”
You give him a small smile while he peers up at you with panicked eyes. Despite him being relatively older than you were, he looked very much like his younger self right now. Nerves and wide-eyes as he contemplates a decision that would very much change the course of his life.
“It’s because you love her you’re scared,” you explain, “Change will always feel scary, and proposing to Ah-reum is a huge change in your life. Nothing will make this easier, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it. Once you overcome that initial barrier, you’re going to thank yourself for taking that leap of faith.”
He groans, cradling his face into his hands as your eyes widen alarm, afraid if you said the wrong thing.
“You know,” he says suddenly, eyes darting up, “It’s a little reassuring to know that Jin went through this before I did.”
At the mention of his brother, your hand tenses on his shoulder—but you don’t think he notices. Or at least you hope he doesn’t.
“Way to throw your brother under the bus,” you chuckle.
“No, really,” he snorts, shaking his head fondly as if he was recalling those days. “You know, at first I thought it was too early for him to be proposing.”
Your eyes widen at the new set of information.
“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, “Don’t tell him I told you that, though. He’d kill me,” he says in a low whisper as you laugh, a little sadly purely because he didn’t have to worry about that. You weren’t even talking to Jin. “I knew the two of you were endgame—but getting married? That’s next-level commitment.”
“I mean,” you say bashfully, eyes darting to the ground.
“But now, looking back …” he trails off wistfully, “It made sense.”
He’s the second person who’s told you that within the span of the past week and you’re left more conflicted than ever. His words came during a time where you were contemplating on splitting up with Jin, so you have no idea what to feel, especially when you’ve convinced yourself that the divorce was the decision that made sense.
“Everyone keeps saying that,” you mumble.
Seokjung snorts, “Because it’s true. You ground each other, you know?” He murmurs with a smile, “I mean more so you to him,” he finishes as you giggle at his hushed whisper.
“I’m clearly the more level-headed one,” you say jokingly with a small smile.
“Yeah,” he agrees easily as the two of you share a laugh. “Early or late, the two of you are meant for each other.”
You ignore the way your heart pangs, the reminder that you once thought that was the case too until reality hit you hard.
“Maybe we did get married too early,” you mention quietly.
Seokjung raises a brow at your statement, and you realise the little slip-up too late as you purse your lips in a moment of panic.
“Are the two of you okay?” he asks with a concerned gaze, taking your hand into his.
You let out a shaky breath before smiling at him, the gesture not quite reaching your eyes.
“Don’t worry about us,” you tell him, “It’s your day.”
He frowns.
“Yeah, but you’re my sister and he’s my—”
“I’m fine,” you say curtly, realising your tone as his face drops before you sigh. “I—I am, really. Please don’t worry about us, okay? You’ve got a girlfriend to propose to.”
You nudge him on the shoulder to cock your head towards the door where you see his aunt frantically waving her arms, indicating that Ah-reum was near, and all retort that was about to leave his lips dies on his tongue as his eyes widen while he vigorously pats down his pants to search for the ring.
“God—fuck, shit godamnit,” he curses, fumbling ever so slightly as you giggle, squeezing his shoulder one last time before you’re shooting him a thumbs up along with a cheeky grin.
Good luck, you mouth—but he doesn’t see it.
The door opens and Ah-reum enters; Seokjung cries before he can get the words out but she knows. She knows because they’re in love.
You suppose love makes you know things. You look away because you’re starting to cry too, and when you do—you search for Jin on instinct, but he’s already looking at you.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“Did daddy cry when proposing to mama?” Jiho asks Jin innocently when you’re close enough to catch it.
“No,” Jin says honestly, brushing a stray hair away from his face as Jiho snuggles into his chest. His sigh is clear as day. “Was too happy to cry."
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
“Hey,” you whisper, nudging Jin with your knuckles as he stirs in his sleep, groggily fluttering his eyes open as you shoot him an apologetic smile.
“Your back,” you say quietly, “Sleep on the bed.”
“I’m not sleeping yet,” you say before your eyes are darting to anywhere but the face you yearn to hold. “Just … please. It’d make me feel a lot better if you were sleeping on your own bed than on this couch.”
He doesn’t argue with you, likely too exhausted from the events of the day to find it in him to challenge you like usual. You’re thankful for the sense of normalcy, even if you’re still tiptoeing around him. Even if the remnants of your conversation is the reason why you’ve encountered yet another sleepless night.
You don’t tell him this because it’s been months since you’ve confided him. Telling him what was bothering you didn’t fit in the context of your situation right now, and besides—he was too tired. He needed to drive.
Jin stumbles off the couch and you’re grateful that the room you were sharing had a couch inside, to begin with. You had no idea how to explain the fact that you and your husband weren’t sharing a bed to your in-laws, and you didn’t want to. It saved the hassle.
(Even if he’d take a part of you to sleep every night when he rests his head against the throw pillow than on the bed.)
He shuffles into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him to not wake anyone else up. The kids' room was a good distance away, but some of them had really acute hearing and he likely didn’t want to risk that. You didn’t need to spend another half an hour trying to get Jiho to sleep.
You sigh deeply, brushing a hand through your hair as your feet takes you towards the second-floor kitchen (and yes, Jin’s family was that wealthy to have a kitchen attached to each floor) as you prepare yourself a cup of hot milk. It’s a drink you’ve made over and over throughout the years, the same brand of carton milk always remains in the fridge—and you knew it was about the Kim’s had relatively picky eating habits.
It’s different this time because you’re making one instead of two, a lone cup that’s usually accompanied by another makes you sadder. It makes your heart hurt all over again and you’re exhausted. You’re drained but you can’t sleep because your body remains active due to the way that your mind runs miles.
You focus on the milk because maybe it’ll hurt less when you don’t think. But it doesn’t—because the stupid fucking milk only reminds you of him. The man in his room, snoozing away while you lose sleep all over again.
You’re momentarily absorbed in the way that the residue from the milk swirls in the cup to notice or hear the shuffling of feet beside you, but it’s too late because when you turn you nearly scream.
You’re surprised to see Jin’s mother standing there as you place a hand to your chest to ease your racing heart.
“I nearly screamed,” you confess, shaking your head as she smiles apologetically at you.
“I tend to do that,” she says, “My husband’s always telling me I move like I’m avoiding a footprint.”
You laugh at that, not disagreeing as you mindlessly stir your drink.
“It’s late, eomeonim,” you say with a concerned look, “Is everything okay?”
She gives you a kind smile before she looks over her shoulder.
“Heard something in the kitchen and woke up,” she tells you as your face grimaces in embarrassment, “Shall we head to the office to talk?”
You nod your head mutely, unsure on why she’s decided to stay away even if it nearly approaches two am, but you don’t argue with her. Instead, she guides you towards the study, a comfortable room where you can speak freely without worrying too much about waking others. Your thoughts run a lot more liberally in here, despite the ache in your chest.
You take a seat on the couch, noting that it’s changed. You haven’t been here in a while, yet it remained homey with a much-needed replacement.
“Are you okay?” you ask softly, “I’m sorry I woke you up.”
She waves you off.
“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she says.
Your eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is there something wrong?”
She sighs, staring wistfully to the side as you see her throat move as she swallows. The longer the silence ensues, the antsier you grew. Was she okay? Did something happen to her? Is she—?
“You and Jin are getting a divorce.”
You nearly drop your glass as you spill some of the contents on your t-shirt, hissing at the stain. But you can’t even be bothered to reach for a tissue to clean at it when you’re looking up with a horrified expression to meet your mother-in-law's face.
“I—eomeonim—how?” you splutter, cheeks flushed in mortification.
“I overheard the two of you,” she says simply, “And Jin left his laptop open and I saw an email from Jimin regarding the papers.”
You don’t know what to say because you’re absolutely mortified. More importantly, you feel ashamed. Ashamed because she found out due to you and Jin’s shouting in the kitchen and his carelessness. Not from you yourself.
“I’m sorry,” you croak, emotions slowly overwhelming you as she looks at you with an unreadable expression.
“Why are you apologising, my sweet girl?” she says softly, immediately reaching out to you to wrap her arms around you as a mother would. And right now, she wasn’t your mother-in-law—but a woman who’s seen you grow alongside her own two children. You weren’t disappointing your mother-in-law but your second mother.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” you choke, tears immediately falling the tighter she holds you, “I-I’m s-so sorry. I-I tried—I didn’t—want to but—I-I’m sorry.”
Your words are slurred the harder you cry, pathetically shoving your face into her shoulder as she holds you. The dam breaks, unleashing the emotions you’ve held in for so long in the arms of a mother. She doesn’t say anything but brushes your hair, holding you a little tighter when your tears stain her nightgown.
You don’t know why you’re crying so hard. Maybe it’s because it seems all too real now, with Jin’s mother knowing. Her words only solidify the fact that your marriage was nearly over and you couldn’t do anything. The ghost of Jin’s words from a day earlier still remain clear to you, and maybe—it was really your fault.
You decided it was over.
“____,” she calls you softly as you continue to sniffle in her arms, frustrated at the fact that your tears weren’t stopping. “Look at me, dear.”
You force yourself to obey even if you can’t bear to, the humiliation of her finding out this way still tormenting you.
“I’m sorry, eom—”
“Please don’t say sorry,” she holds your face in her hands, forcing your puffy eyes to look at her.
“But it’s,” you choke, unable to look at her without wanting to cry. “It’s—my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” she replies vehemently, swiping at your tears for you, “It’s not your fault.” She repeats in a softer tune.
“I wanted the divorce, eomeonim,” your lips wobble when you speak, words shakily escaping past your lips, “It’s all my fault.”
“I’m sorry,” she says instead as you nearly knock your forehead with hers at how fast you try to pull away, appalled that she was the one apologising.
“Why are you—?” your brows furrow in confusion when she holds onto you a little tighter.
“I’m not just Jin’s mother or your mother-in-law,” she says softly, “I’m a person and I see that you’re hurting. I’m apologising because you don’t deserve this.”
You swallow the lump in your throat as your eyes look up to the ceiling to stop your tears.
“I know mothers-in-law will side with their son,” she says, “But I won’t. Because Jin made a mistake and now you’re suffering because of him.”
“It’s not his fault,” you reply quietly.
You know that you blamed him earlier, but deep down—you could never blame Jin. You were the one that brought forward the divorce, and if you decided to keep fighting then maybe … maybe it wouldn’t hurt this much.
“I don’t know,” she sighs, “I don’t want to invalidate your feelings, that’s the last thing I want to do but …” she trails off as you stare at her expectantly, “I don’t know who he is without you, ____.”
You bite your lips to prevent yourself from crying again.
“Please don’t think of this as me trying to convince you to stay with him,” she begs, “If you’re unhappy, I rather you leave him than punish yourself.” You nod your head, eyes darting to your lap as she continues. “But I spoke to Jin.”
Your eyes immediately dart up in surprise as your eyes widen.
“Right after,” she continues softly, “I caught him before he went to bed and …” her eyes begin to water and you think you’re about to break again. “I haven’t seen him cry since your wedding day.”
Her confession knocks the wind out of you as you find yourself gasping, tears immediately leaving your eyes. The realisation that Jin cried, to his mother makes your heart clench. You knew that Jin wasn’t much of a crier himself—he didn’t even cry when Jiho was born. Nor was he the type to cry in front of his mother. He held his ego at a high level even if that irked you at times, so the news only makes you more devastated.
“I don’t know what he said to you per se,” she whispers, “But he loves you. He loves you so much—and that goddamn idiot doesn’t know how to do anything but work and I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t be apologising on my son’s behalf but I want to. I want to because I love you as my daughter and I want to see you happy.”
“Eomeonim …” you croak, reaching your hand up to cover hers that lay on your face.
“Please, if you call me that I think I’m going to bawl,” she laughs quietly as you find yourself giggling along, despite the way it gets stuck in your throat. “My son is stupid. So stupid. Please—please talk to him. If it …” she swallows, “If it doesn’t work out—I’ll support you, either way. Just please, don’t leave whatever questions you have unanswered.”
You nod your head, chest feeling slightly lighter but burdened nevertheless.
“I will,” you say softly, “I promise.”
You walk her back to her room after, hugging her tightly at her door as she pushes past it, sniffling ever so slightly before retreating into the dark room.
You make your way quietly back to your room, mind weighed with different thoughts plaguing every crevice of your brain. You didn’t know what to make of her confession or statement. You wanted to believe her that Jin still loved you—but you didn’t know. You couldn’t know because you don’t remember the last time he held you, or maybe you did and it was months ago.
Your feet stop right in front of the door as you hesitate to reach for the knob. He was asleep, anyway. You decide to push, slowly turning as you slip into the dark room.
It wasn’t dark.
And Jin was awake.
He’s awake and sat in his bed, something resting on his lap as he uses the nightlight beside him to flip through it. He hears the intrusion as you stand, frozen, and his eyes lift to meet yours.
You think this is the first time in a while that you’ve seen him like this, in bed and comfortable with a slight puffiness to his eyes while his shirt remains wrinkled—the proof of his comfort. Your heart clenches because you missed this—missed returning to him in bed, soft and warm as you press against him.
And the dam breaks for the second time that night.
You don’t know what compels you to run to him, or allow him to hold you while you sob into his arms—but you do. You practically leap onto him, body curling pathetically into his side as he holds you like he’s afraid you’d slip away. He lets you cry your eyes out, he lets you cry until snot is unattractively running down your nose and staining his t-shirt. He lets you, because he hasn’t let you feel him for a long time.
You instantly melt into his hold, missing his warmth. And when your eyes briefly fall into his lap to get a glimpse of what he was staring at, you cry even harder.
Tumblr media
It was a banner you made for his twenty-ninth birthday, right after the two of you got married. Your then favourite pictures of Jin stained every surface of the banner, some edges wearing off due to age—and you remember each moment so vividly.
From taking a picture of him when he was taking a picture of you, to when he was making you breakfast in the morning, to his birthday as you smashed cake into his face, the flowers he got you when he broke your favourite cup, your fishing trip—everything. You remember it.
You sob harder, clutching onto his t-shirt as he tucks your face into the crook of his neck, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. You were so tired of crying but it was all you could do.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers after your sobs turn into tireless chokes, “I’m so sorry.”
“I hate you,” you cry, hitting his chest while he lets you, “Why are you so stupid.”
“I know,” he sighs, “I’m stupid. Hate me. Do anything you want to me.”
“I-I”—you croak, still slamming your fists into his chest weakly as you helplessly flutter your eyes shut—“I don’t hate you.” You finish quietly, your truth surfacing as you note that his eyes soften at your defeated tone.
Your emotions are everywhere and frankly, you can’t really think with how you’re pressed against his body like you never wanted him to let go. Right now, you didn’t. You wanted to be held, vulnerable and teary while he soothes you with his gentle touches.
You can’t stop the tears, way too overwhelmed to even process the fact that Jin doesn’t shift away one bit, hand clutching the back of your head as he rubs circles against your scalp. Who were you to pull away?
You sniffle pathetically before you pull away ever so slightly, flushed and embarrassed at the sudden loss of control over your emotions.
“Are you done?” he asks softly, referring to your tears as you pull away to swipe under your eyes.
“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I still feel like crying.”
“Then cry,” he replies gently, “I’ll be here to hold you.”
You want to hit him because his words only spur the tears on.
“I just wanted you,” you whisper, “I only wanted you …” your lips wobble when you look up at him.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, “I know sorry won’t erase the pain I’ve caused you but that’s all I can offer for now.”
“Why did you—why did you just”—you sniff pathetically—“why didn’t you fight me. Why didn’t you stop me.”
“I thought it would make you happy,” he pulls away, and you both know how absurd his excuse sounds but you’re too tired to fight. “I only wanted you to be happy.”
“You idiot,” you hiss through a clogged nose, “You would’ve made me happy.” You say softly. “I wanted to be happy with you.”
“You make me happy too,” he says softly into your hair.
You’re still angry, and you’re tired. But even if there were things you were unsure about, you missed being close to Jin more than anything.
“Your mom said you were stupid,” you murmur.
He laughs quietly, pulling you closer to his chest.
“I am,” he agrees.
The silence returns but it’s no longer as suffocating as the past few days have been. It’s more reflective than not and you’re thankful, even if your eyes are uncomfortably swollen—you allow yourself to be held. The weaker part of you is unable to say no to him.
“Why …” you begin softly, eyes looking up to already see him staring at you. “Why didn’t you sign the papers?”
He blinks at you for a while before he sighs, resting his chin atop your head.
“I didn’t want it to be real,” he says so softly you almost missed it. “I thought—I thought if I dragged it out then …”
“… it wouldn’t have happened?” You finish quietly.
He groans, frustrated as your eyebrows furrow at his sudden change in demeanour.
“I know it sounds pathetic,” he admits, “I was a coward, ____. I was stressed and overwhelmed and—suddenly … you wanted a divorce, I just”—he takes a deep breath to collect himself and you’re mildly alarmed to spot his glassy eyes—“I didn’t know what to do …”
“Why didn’t you talk to me?” you ask timidly, fingers gripping his shirt tightly. There was really no need for you to cling onto him, but you couldn’t do anything else right now. Especially when he returns the gesture.
“Would you believe me if I said it’s because I didn’t want to burden you?” he brushes your hair out of your face as his hand cradles your cheek, “I wanted to be the one you could rely on and … I didn’t know what to do.”
Your face crumbles when you note the sincerity behind his voice. Rationally, you knew that a relationship required communication but you knew Jin, and you knew that he always tried to plaster this mask to the world that depicted him as a reliable and unshakable fortress. All this time … he was struggling and so were you.
The realisation only makes you sadder, and you feel all the more horrible when you remember that you brought up the divorce in the midst of all of this.
“I’m sorry!” you wail, face burying into his chest as his eyes widen.
“_____—” he murmurs.
“No—I just,” you say frantically, rushing to get your words out, afraid if you’d forget as if he’d disappear. “I didn’t know—and I thought—I thought you didn’t … I thought we were—fuck. I’m so sorry, I just wanted you—I—”
You have no idea what you’re saying but Jin doesn’t look confused. He understands, and you know that because he shoots you a gentle smile before rubbing his thumb across your cheek.
“Please don’t apologise,” he whispers, forehead resting against yours as you blink away your tears. “I don’t blame you. I could never blame you.”
“But I …” you protest.
He shushes you with a kiss to your forehead and you instantly melt into his hold.
“You did what you thought would make you happy,” he tells you honestly, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I asked for a divorce, Jin,” you exasperate.
“Are we?”
You blink, startled as you pull away, heart nearly shattering until he grabs you by the wrist.
“Hey, no,” he whispers, “That’s not what I meant,” he cups your face in his hands as your lips wobble all over again. God—you fucking despised being a crybaby. “Look at me.”
You do, and you see how tired he looks. How have you not noticed before? His cheeks look duller, and his dark circles are more apparent than ever. You just want to reach out to touch him.
And you do. Your hand shakily reaches out to caress his face in a way that you weren’t able to for the past few months. It’s almost like a new feeling, but your fingers find their way home relatively easy, tracing each pore and wrinkle, memorising his face to memory all over again.
“Are we getting a divorce, ____?” he repeats firmly, never breaking eye contact with you.
Your lip tremble.
“I don’t—” you warble, as he leans his forehead against yours again.
“Because I don’t want a divorce,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s explicitly admitted it.
“I don’t either,” you say weakly.
“I meant it when I said I want to be with you in sickness and in health,” he whispers earnestly, breath tickling your cheek, “And till death do us apart.”
“I’m sorry, Jin,” you say timidly, eyes darting to your lap.
“Don’t apologise to me,” he says sternly, not unkindly as your eyes flutter up. “Not when I’m the one that has an entire lifetime worth of apologies to give you.”
“I just …” you trail off softly, “I just want us to be okay.”
He’s still staring at you, and there’s a pained expression behind his eyes.
“Can I kiss you?”
His question stuns you, purely because you weren’t expecting it and because you’ve nearly forgotten what it felt like to have his lips pressed against yours, or even the nervous waver of his voice when he looks at you so earnestly that you can’t find the words to respond with. So, you settle for actions instead.
You nod your head mutely, heart ramming against your chest when he begins to lean in.
You don’t remember the last time he’s kissed you, or held you, or looked at you like this. There’s a dull ache in your chest when you recall the nights you’ve spent agonising over the downfall of your marriage, but Jin distracts you from your thoughts when his lips tickle over yours.
There’s no rush this time, even as your eyes are swollen while you flutter them shut. There’s no desperation to kiss you, and you aren’t desperate to be kissed either. It’s as if the both of you wanted to savour this moment—to remember what it feels like to have almost lost. It hurt—but it was necessary. A necessary reminder to you and to Jin that fighting was tiring but it was worth it.
When he finally presses his lips to yours, you nearly cry. You immediately melt into his hold, especially when he cradles your cheek with his palm and pulls you closer to his chest.
You kiss him with a mission to tell him how much you’ve yearned for this—for him. But you’re distracted when you feel something hot against your cheek.
It’s not your tears—it’s his.
You pull away, alarmed when you realise that Jin’s body is shaking.
“Jin?” zYou clutch his shoulders, eyes searching for his as he covers his face with his shoulder, effectively shielding his tears away from you.
“I-I’m sorry,” he chokes, furiously wiping his eyes with his shirt as your face falls.
“J-Jin, please don’t—” you say shakily, going to embrace him, but to your displeasure, he refuses, breathing deeply to collect himself.
You don’t think you’ve seen Jin this uncollected ever. Not even when he was crying during your wedding. His body shakes with the ferocity of his tears, the intensity of his breaths only causes his shoulders to heave up and down and all you can do is stare at him with sad eyes.
“I know an apology won’t fix anything,” he says vehemently, managing to get some of his words out as he peers up at you with red-rimmed eyes, “But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you question this marriage—for—for not loving you the way you deserve.”
“Jin …” you say softly, reaching out to hold his hand as his own tears continue to fall from his eyes.
This time, it’s you who allows him to nuzzle his head into the crook of your shoulder as he sobs. It’s quieter than you, but no less painful.
“I was so scared,” he confesses, “I was terrified when you showed me the papers. I really thought—this is it. It’s over.”
You stay silent, biting your lip to stop your own tears from escaping when you recall the memory.
“I was so scared what would happen,” he croaks, “I thought I was going to lose you, forever. I thought—I thought I was going to lose Jiho.”
“I’d never do that to you,” you say shakily.
“I know,” he returns, “But I was the most afraid of who I was going to be without you.”
You look down at him when his eyes dart up, pained and sunken when he clutches your hands in his larger ones, squeezing your fingers in a way that you assume he hopes to translate his desperation. You feel it, and you squeeze back.
“You’re Kim Seokjin,” you murmur, rubbing your thumb across his chin.
“That’s just my name,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “I’m nothing without you.”
“That’s not—”
“You and Jiho were the only one’s that got me through each day, you know?” He murmurs as your heart clenches. “Every day, when another deal failed to follow through and ended up bringing losses—or when the stockholders went against me—I could only think of you and Jiho.”
You couldn’t stop the tears that return this time around, choking on your own sobs.
“I wanted so much to give you both the world that I,” he swallows, “That I got greedy—and I ended up … I ended up losing the both of you instead.”
“I’m here, Jin,” you say softly.
“I know I don’t deserve it yet,” he says quietly, “But please don’t leave me.”
You realise belatedly that even with the divorce, you could never have left him the way you thought you could.
You don’t answer him, instead—you provide your answer through your actions by kissing him. Harder than before but just as earnest. Both of your tears clash against your skins, but you can’t be bothered to care when he returns your kiss with an equal amount of desperation and affection.
“I love you,” he breathes into your mouth as you gasp. “I love you more than love itself.”
You want to hit him in the way he’s making you cry harder.
“I love”—you choke on your words when he presses a kiss to your jaw, his confession raw and honest—“God, I love you.”
“I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you,” he says vehemently, kissing every inch of your face, your jaw and your neck as you cling onto his shirt desperately right before his dark eyes look up to catch your flushed expression. “Will you let me?”
“Yes—God—please,” you beg, pulling him closer to your body as he peppers open-mouth kisses down your sternum and across your chest.
“Can I love you tonight, ____?”
You nod your head desperately, heart fuller than it’s been in a long time. You know the consequences, and you couldn’t give a damn right now. You still needed to heal, and so did he—but when he holds you a little tighter, you know that neither of you was going anywhere.
“Love me,” you gasp, “Please, Jin.”
“I’ll love you,” he hisses, trailing down your neck, his words juxtaposing with the tenderness of his touch as his hands slip under your shirt. His touch is molten, especially when you’ve missed the feeling of having him like this—close, desperate and yours for the moment.
“I miss you,” you confess while he drags his fingers across your abdomen and rests right under your breasts. He looks up at you with soft eyes as you return them, eyes swollen. “I really miss you, Jin.”
He leans up to kiss you, hands multitasking as they cup your tits while you gasp into his mouth.
“I miss you,” he returns with a heartfelt tone, “I’ll never let this happen. Ever again.”
Now, all you can do is trust him, trust him and his words and that he’d take care of you. His hands tickle under your shirt but you can’t be bothered when he finally cups your breast with his large hands, gentle yet steadfast when he tweaks your peaked buds.
“O-Oh,” you gasp, head lulling back when his lips trail down to your neck, hands already helping you out of your shirt.
“Will you let me see you, beautiful?” he murmurs.
“Please,” you say breathlessly, lifting your arms up to ease the process.
You should’ve felt vulnerable, being more than just physically naked in front of him. But throughout the hurt and the pain, he’s never made you doubt yourself for once. It was as if you were held captive by him, even when your heart was slowly shattering. It’s also why when he gives you a once over with hunger behind his eyes, you don’t shy away. Instead, your back arches, giving him more than enough to see—to feel.
“I missed you,” he repeats, pressing a kiss to your nipple as you whimper, hands curling around his hair as his head dips lower, “Missed you—missed how gorgeous you looked like this.”
He tells you more by painting the truth on your breast, lavishing each bud with pert attention as you find yourself growing wetter in arousal. His tongue is hot against the cool air of the room, the juxtaposition of the temperatures only sending your head into short-circuiting.
“J-Jin please,” you breathe, staring down at him when his dark eyes lift up to meet yours. His stare is enough to have your thighs clenching together. “M-More.”
“Of course,” he croons, “I’ll give you everything you want.”
You mewl as his hands trace fluttering touches against your stomach before they’re reaching your mound. He doesn’t drag this out as he’d normally, the distant memories of your nights spent tangled together as he edged you till you were crying. No, this time—he’s gentle, he’s soft and careful with the way he handles you, spreading your legs as you pliantly obey, eyes fluttering with every move that he makes.
“So beautiful,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound as you whimper at the contact, needy in want. “I’m gonna eat this pretty pussy, hm?”
You nod your head in desperation, lifting your hips to aid him in the process of slipping off your pants along with your panties, baring your slicked pussy to his face. You catch a brief glimpse of his expression, especially when he unabashedly ogles your wetness with desire behind his eyes. You’re a little flustered since it’s been a while, so your legs naturally threaten to snap shut but Jin doesn’t let you get too far.
“Don’t hide from me,” he says quietly, eyes peering up at you as you can’t find it in you to respond with how your throat clamps shut. “Want to see you. Always do.”
Your heart tugs in your chest, but you aren’t able to dwell on the feeling for too long when Jin dives into your heat, tongue immediately flattening against your pussy as he tracks your wetness up your slit to where your engorged bud lies. Your back immediately arches while your hand finds purchase in his hair, grounding yourself at the way your stomach immediately heaves inwards at his ministrations.
Jin doesn’t relent, nor does he tease. He’s quick and precise with every flick of his appendage over your clit, rapidly swirling the bud in the way you like as he alternates between harsh sucks and tugging at the pearl, causing sobs of pleasure to leave your lips. It’s a product of how long you’ve been together and how he’s learned every pulse and shiver as a sign of your pleasure.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” you mewl, “D-Don’t stop.”
“You taste so good, love,” he moans into your pussy, the vibrations immediately causing your toes to curl as your head tilts backwards. “A pussy like yours should be eaten every day, yeah? As your husband—I should do that.”
When he calls himself your husband, you feel yourself whine in pleasure, the term causing fondness to bloom in your chest. You don’t know if he’s said it on purpose, but he doesn’t stop with his actions, instead, one of the hands that presses your stomach down to keep you in place reaches up to where your hand clutches his hair and brings it away.
“J-Jin,” you whine, hips bucking when he swirls his tongue over your clit, slowly while his eyes peer up to lock with yours.
The act is all too intimate, and your poor heart can barely take it with how sensitive you are all over, emotionally and physically. But Jin takes your flushed face as a good sign, and he ruins you all over when he intertwines your fingers together.
“Can feel you clenching,” he hums teasingly, “you going to come for me?”
You nod your head vigorously, fingers pressing tightly against his larger palm as he laughs into your pussy at your eagerness. Once he gets the confirmation for you, it’s like he was holding out the entire time despite him causing your legs to shiver by the side of his face.
This time, Jin presses his face tightly against your pussy as you squeal, louder than you expected as he flicks his tongue over your bud so rapidly that your mind is blank in pleasure, legs shaking uncontrollably as your body quivers in pleasure.
“Oh oh oh! J-Jin—fuck, I-I’m gonna—please let me cum, please please please,” you cry desperately, hips grinding against his face as he slurps your clit like he was parched.
“Come for me, beautiful. Wanna feel you drench my tongue,” he encourages you softly, yet his words send a wave of pleasure all across your body as you finally feel the last bit of your coil snap.
“J-Jin!” you sob, back arching as his large palm splays over your stomach to keep you rooted in position, forcing you to take all the pleasure he was giving you. Your legs shake by his face as he keeps his mouth open with his tongue out as you ride the aftershocks of your orgasm away.
“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away with a parting kiss to your clit that as you jumping. “I missed this. Missed your pussy.”
“Miss you,” you mumble dazedly, your fingers carding through his hair as he peers up at you.
“Come here,” he whispers, inching up as he gently holds your cheek in his palm while you immediately lean into his touch.
While you lay on his bed, relatively boneless, Jin stares at you with devout affection, his eyes softening when he holds your gaze. His lips glisten with your wetness, mouth slightly parting while he rubs a thumb against your cheek.
“I love you,” he says quietly, “I really—I’m so in love with you.”
“Jin,” you say shyly, eyes darting away when he doesn’t look away.
“You’re the love of my life,” he divulges gently, leaning his forehead against yours as you take in every freckle that marks his skin, and the dulcet curve of his lips when he presses it against yours.
You can’t find a response that would indulge in what you truly felt, so you settle for reciprocating his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you learn all about the way he feels all over again. You miss this, and you’d admit it over and over again—until he reminds you just how much of a home his touch was.
“I want you,” you whimper, pulling away to peer up to his dark eyes.
“Gotta be quiet, okay?” he murmurs as you nod obediently. “Need me to prep you? It’s been a while.”
Ever the gentleman and the considerate person he was, although you reckoned it was the most sensible option—you missed the feeling of having him feel you whole.
“No need,” you say, “Just—fuck me, please.”
He chuckles, leaning down to press hot kisses against your jaw and the nape of your neck as he uses his palms to spread your legs, feeling the way his hardened cock presses against your thigh. You take the time to card your fingers through his hair, gently pressing against his temple, then his cheek, and finally his bottom lip while you attempt to let your actions display what you feel.
As if Jin senses this, he leans up to press a soft kiss to your lips. One that’s both desperate and longing, a greeting from the past that blooms in the present.
“Ready?” he murmurs, fist clutching his cock while it prods against your quivering hole.
He swiftly removes his shirt, chucking it aside as he presses the tip against your quivering hole. You nod eagerly, wrapping your arms around his shoulder as he finally pushes through the first barrier. Your breath hitches, mostly because Jin wasn’t average-sized by any means. He grunts from above you, face contorted as he slowly inches his way in, careful to not hurt you.
Frankly, you were wet enough from your previous orgasm and how much your body craved him—but as you mentioned, he was big. But the pleasant burn of his girth stretching you out have you gasping, eyes peering up at him in desperation.
“M-More,” you whimper, hips chasing his as you encourage him to sheathe himself further into you.
“Are you sure?” he asks, lips pressed against your jaw as you nod.
“I’m good,” you assure him, pulling away just to shoot him a small smile that he returns.
Finally, he bottoms out, the last bit of his length in you as you whimper at the feeling of being so full, so whole. Jin remains still, to allow you a few seconds to adjust to having him in you. While you were desperate for more, you appreciated the gesture.
There’s something oddly intimate about having him in you but not moving at all. There’s no rush to thrust into you with hot pleasure and love, but just the comfort of having him here—with you. Your heart squeezes in fondness, mostly because you missed him. Missed having him so close to you and in your reach.
“Y-You can move,” you pant, hips already moving at their own accord as he groans from above you.
“God,” he sighs, “I missed you. Missed you so much.”
“I-I missed you too,” you say in between pants as he begins to thrust into you, pulling his cock out until the hilt before slamming back home.
It sends your body up the bed as you indulge in how good it feels. Both emotionally and physically. One of your hands clutches at his hair while he builds up his pace by occupying all the space in between your hot walls.
“Fuck,” he grunts, “You feel so—good.”
You nearly forgot how strong Jin was, and how effortlessly he was able to send white-hot pleasure coursing through your bloodstream with the way that his hips move. He’s relentless with his pounding, the squelches of your wetness echoing in the room with every single purposeful thrust, your gasps of pleasure tangled with the way the slap of his hips meet yours—it’s all too stimulating and it feels so good.
“Oh my God, J-Jin, fuck, oh,” you sob, clawing at his back when he speeds up his thrusts, the tip of his cockhead scraping against the spot within you that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
You feel so full, and your pussy is attempting to accommodate his thick and long length. Your clit is throbbing in want as your hand reaches down to deliver some reprieve, but before you can do anything meaningful—Jin’s slapping your hand away to replace it with his own, and a determined expression on his face.
“Fuck, this pussy’s so wet,” he hisses, rubbing vigorous figure eights on your swollen bud as your mouth falls open into a silent moan, “Would die for this pussy. Always.”
His words send your stomach clenching, paired with the way he doesn’t falter at all with the rhythm of his brutal thrusts.
“Oh oh—ngh, p-please—don’t stop oh my God you’re so fucking—good,” you scream, right before Jin captures your mouth with his lips, swallowing your moans.
“As much as I want to hear you, we’re not home,” he reminds you softly, eyes swirling with amusement as you flush a deeper shade of red, a chortled squeal caught in your throat when he emphasises his point with a particular thrust that has your chest jostling.
Yet, it’s not his cock that has you burning.
Your home. The home that hasn’t felt much like one.
“Ohhhh,” you wail, muffled by his lips, “Don’t stop oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum again—shit.”
“Yeah, gonna cum for me again?” he eggs you on with a grunt, leaning his chest against yours as your sticky body meets while his hips continue working its way into your pussy. “God fuck, I’m so lucky—you’re so beautiful.
“J-Jin,” you mewl, your glassy eyes peering up at him as he returns. Somehow, he knows—he knows even if all you’ve uttered was his name.
“I got you, my love,” he says so ardently that you feel a tear fall, both in pleasure and in overwhelming love. “Look at me.”
You do, and Jin decides to intertwine the free hand that isn’t abusing your poor clit into blazing pleasure with your own, squeezing your hand. It just so happens to be his left hand, and you feel the familiar squeeze of his wedding ring against your empty finger.
The realisation that he never took it off only makes you cry harder.
“J-Jin, I-I’m—” you blubber through a moan, feeling the coil in your stomach grow tenfold when he rams into you at a speed and a sense of determination you’ve never felt before. “I—oh fuck—I’m going to—!”
“I love you,” he confesses, squeezing your hand as it lays by the side of your head. The heat grows, and you feel yourself grow light-headed when Jin leans in to press a hot kiss to your lips, his own grunts caught in between your teeth.
“I love—fuck, oh,” you struggle to form coherent words, not when your pussy clenches erratically around his length, your wetness dripping down his balls while he attempts to focus on battering your g-spot with a snipers precision.
“Cum for me,” he grunts, “Cum for me and look me in the eye. Wanna see how fucking gorgeous you look for me.”
You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily as more tears fall, and when you open them—you see a manic look in Jin’s gaze, paired with his own stray tear falling.
“I love you—I love you I love you I love you,” you chant frantically, cunt pulsing as your legs shake, “I-I’m cum—cumming—”
“Me too, love,” he murmurs, hips stuttering when you clench around him. “I love you so much. You’re the—best thing. I’m so fucking—lucky.”
His own words are slurred, and you feel the coil snap, your eyes trained only on his expression as you feel your orgasm overtake you with an acute force that has you nearly blanking out. You gush around his length, and that stimulates Jin’s own release, his cum painting your walls white with its heat as you shudder at the feeling of being so wholly full.
“Oh oh oh,” you mewl, clutching his hand tighter as you choke on your sobs of pleasure and tears. “Kiss me. Kiss me please.”
Your pleas are granted with a desperate kiss to your lips, your arms immediately wrapping around his shoulders while he shoves his cock further into you, plugging his cum as you whine into his open mouth. He releases loads of his cum into you that it threatens to slip past your swollen folds.
Jin kisses you, and you kiss him back. You don’t dare to let go and neither does he. The desperation between the two of you is an accumulation of nights spent apart, spent agonising the death of your relationship, the potential of a future without each other—the hypotheticals of what-ifs. You feel his ring against your jaw when he curls his hand around it to push himself deeper into your mouth.
“I love you,” he says again, and yet your heart flutters like it’s the first.
You pull away to catch your breath, forehead resting against his as you sniff the remaining of your tears away. A croaked laugh leaves your lips as Jin smiles softly at you, thumb rubbing against your cheek with immense tenderness and affection that you can’t do anything but lean into his touch.
He’s still in you, and yet—there’s no rush to move despite the cum that leaks out of your hole.
“I love you,” you echo.
“I’m sorry,” he tells you, regret staining his words as his eyes flutter shut. “I—I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness just yet—”
You stop him by pressing a kiss to his lips, soft. Pleading.
“We’ve got all the time to learn,” you say quietly, “Now, I just want you.”
He pauses for a second just to observe your face, to take in your earnest eyes as he sighs, both remorseful and thankful. Thankful that he’s met you, and thankful that you’re still here despite his shortcomings.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says with a determined gaze as you smile softly at him.
“I’ll take your word on that,” you say with a giggle.
He pulls out of you as you wince, immediately feeling his cum drip out of you. You’re about to whine a complaint, but he interrupts any ripostes from your lips with another kiss.
You’re not complaining.
“And I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you,” he says as you flush at his words. “Being next to you. Learning with you. Growing with you. I want to do it all—only with you.”
You want to slap him. You do. It’s the only thing you can think of when you feel your tears burn behind your eyelids.
“God,” you sniff as he grins at you.
“You’re such a crybaby,” he teases, leaning over your body to pick up his t-shirt before he’s wiping at your folds.
You scowl, ready to nag his ear off for using his own shirt, but before you can do any damage, he’s chucking it aside once he deems you clean enough before he’s suffocating you with a death grip around your body.
“My baby,” he murmurs into your neck as you flush.
“Jiiiiiiin,” you whine, “I need to—I need to pee.”
“Let me carry you,” he immediately says, swooping your naked body up with his arms as you yelp.
“I’m not—I can walk!” you squeak.
“Don’t think so,” he smirks as you roll your eyes at him, your eyes still puffy from your tears. “Your legs are shaking.”
And shaking, they were. You knew that you had no way of walking to the bathroom without collapsing with how good Jin had fucked you previously. But you were prideful as you stick your nose up snootily, looking away when he leans in to kiss you.
“Does the queen not want to kiss her king?” he pouts childishly as you roll her eyes.
“More like a peasant,” you mutter.
You squeal when he threatens to tickle you, blowing a raspberry into your neck while your boisterous laughter echoes against the wall.
It’s late, and people were sleeping, but the way that Jin holds you so gently as you’ve remembered—makes you forget about reality, about everything else. You can only focus on him, the way he’s making you feel and the way you see your best friend, love of your life—and your husband—return to you.
“Hey,” he murmurs once you’re done peeing and draped over one of his large t-shirts as the two of you cuddle in bed.
“I love you,” he whispers, your eyes nearly drooping shut in fatigue.
“I love you too,” you say softly, snuggling into his chest as he holds you tighter.
“Once we go back …” he murmurs, “I want—I want us to go for couple therapy.”
You pause.
You look up at him, noticing his nervous expression as you smile. You wrap your fingers around him before brushing your thumb over his knuckles comfortingly.
“Okay,” you agree, “We will.”
“And … I want to take you out,” he says before clearing his throat. “On a date.”
“We’re married,” you giggle.
And it feels to good to believe it.
He rolls his eyes and you spot the slight flush on his cheeks.
“I know,” he says, “I missed going out with you.”
Your face softens before you sigh to yourself, happy.
“Me too,” you say.
“I love you,” he repeats again. You won’t ever get tired of hearing it.
You return it with a kiss, and finally, allow yourself a comfortable sleep after months.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
It’s both simultaneously all too hot and too cold when you arise from your slumber.
Your body aches in satisfaction from the events from last night, and you vividly remember the hot touches and long-awaited, teary-eyed confessions that were shared between you and your husband (and yes, your heart does bloom when you refer to Jin as his rightful position in your life rather than … that).
But the indent of where his body lays remains cool, as your body attempts to search for warmth that wasn’t the duvet absolutely suffocating you but in a touch of the love of your life. Still drowsy from sleep, you pat down on the mattress to find not what you were looking for, but a sick feeling of anxiety that stirs in your stomach.
The worst permeates your mind, and for a moment you’ve wondered if you dreamt it all—the reconciliation that promised retribution and a better future just a figment of your imagination and deepest desires. The mound between your thighs aches when you push yourself into an upright position, blinking as you attempt to search the room for his whereabouts.
Before your mind can continue to think the worst of the situation, the door creaks open—and Jin enters, face still slightly puffy from sleep but no less handsome than he’s always been. Your shoulders droop in relief, and just as you’re about to call to him—you note the third guest that joins you.
“Stole Jiho from the kids' room,” he whispers in consideration of your still snoozing son as he wraps himself around his father’s broad body.
“Thought you left,” you confess softly, making space when his knee pressed against the mattress, only for him to lay Jiho softly on the plush surface as he joins his son by his side.
“Never,” Jin says, reaching a hand to brush a stray hair away from your face before he reaches to hold your hand to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles.
At that moment, your son’s eyes slowly peer open, probably due to the fact that you and Jin were staring at him with full adoration. When he realises it’s just his parents, he grins, wide and with his bread cheeks before he lets out a giggle that has your heart soaring.
“Mama,” he smiles, chubby arms reaching out for a hug as you indulge in his affection. You lay back, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he snuggles into your warmth.
“Just wanted to hold the both of you,” Jin says as you rub gentle circles on Jiho’s back.
Your heart softens exponentially, free hand reaching out to Jin’s so that he’d wrap an arm around you and your son.
“Warm,” Jiho mumbles, pressed between the bodies of you and Jin’s love while the two of you stare, hopelessly and utterly in love with the person you’ve created—and each other.
“I love you, Jiho,” Jin whispers, hugging him impossibly tighter as your son smiles innocently.
“Love you!” he chirps back, eyes fluttering shut the more comfortable it gets for him.
As you run your fingers fondly through the strands of your son’s hair, Jin’s voice interrupts your love-dazed gaze with a soft confession, a record of the years you’ve known each other and the many more years you had to learn about each other.
“I love you,” he murmurs, leaning over to capture your lips in a kiss.
You smile even with the crust in your eyes, happy and content. You don’t respond because Jin’s already beginning to doze off, cheeks puffed and pressed against the pillow.
For a moment, you allow yourself to be selfish, to wallow in the love of your small family and the warmth that they gave you today, and every other day that was to come. You and Jin still had a long way to go before you could properly say things were okay, but the fact that either of you had given up, was more than enough to give you hope—to give you a vision of another thirty years, and more.
You’d do it all, with Jin.
────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────
1K notes · View notes
taetaespeaches · a month ago
“Don’t ever write a cypher about me, I’ll cry.”
yoongi x reader (oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 3.6K
a/n: Hi lovelies! Here’s part 2 to “I’m not walking out on you” in which Yoongi and reader/Kid get into a pretty major fight. This takes place that same night and the next day. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :)) 
Tumblr media
Sleep doesn’t come too easy for those with the weight of two aching hearts inside their chest. The throbbing of your own heart, you could handle. But knowing you were the cause of your lover’s pain sat heavy in your mind. The look of regret, hurt, defeat that was etched across Yoongi’s features was impossible to shake, hovering over you like a sleep paralysis demon of your own creation.
Your tears had stopped since you shut yourself away in your bedroom, but the regret was all the more deep and unsettling. At the sound of the washing machine beeping on the other side of the door, you rolled onto your side, facing the wooden barrier that kept you from Yoongi. You were so sick of walls, but it was all that you knew.
Lifting yourself from the mattress, you began tiptoeing across the room to move the bedding to the dryer. You couldn’t sleep anyway. However, when you carefully pulled the door open, not wanting to alert your boyfriend of your activity, you were stopped in your tracks, the air leaving your lungs as you remained completely still. Peeking through the slightly ajar door, you watched as Yoongi transferred the sheets from the washing machine to the dryer.
He didn’t hear the door open, appearing oblivious to your presence. And perhaps that was why he wasn’t more careful in concealing the sniffle that sounded in the hallway, the small fragile sound stabbing your heart. When he raised his arm to his face, using the sleeve of his hoodie to wipe across his cheek, there was no mistaking the emotional state of the man. Yoongi was crying, and it was your fault.
Feeling as though you were going to be sick, you quickly but quietly shut the door, hiding away behind the barrier once again. You should have stepped into the hallway and faced the man you loved, but your cowardice always seemed to win. Instead, you stood frozen, your back pressed against the wood, your jaw clenched, and your eyes filling with tears once again.
If only you had known that the click of the latch registered in Yoongi’s ears, the man turning to see the door closed. However, he knew you were just on the other side, he could feel your presence. Yoongi had stepped toward the door, raising his arm and nearly knocking before deciding against it. Maybe you wanted space, maybe you didn’t want to see him. Sighing, he started the dryer before returning to the couch, all while you leaned against the door wishing you had the courage to step outside.
As you remained restless in bed, you couldn’t help but think about how you had ambushed Yoongi. You could tell that as far as he knew, you and him didn’t have any issues. Replaying the fight in your head, the interaction with him earlier in his studio, the past couple weeks, you realized he was completely oblivious to how you had been feeling. How could the fight ever be fair if he had no indication of any problems? And to bring up his mistake from nearly a year ago that you knew he regretted, whether it still hurt you or not, was cruel.
You left him defenseless; the man who always lowered his defenses when it came to you.
Curiosity and your undeniable pull to Yoongi getting the best of you, you found yourself in the hallway, headed toward the living room where he was sleeping for the night. With how still everything in the apartment was, you worried for just a moment that maybe he had actually left, despite his promise not to walk out on you. You wouldn’t even blame him if he did. However, you caught a glimpse of the messy hair that sat atop his head where he rested against the arm of the sofa, once again reminding you of how foolish your misguided accusations were. Of course he didn’t leave.
Stepping closer to him, you carefully peeked over the top of the sofa to see him lying on his back, his mouth slightly ajar as he slept, his arms folded across his body as though he was trying to secure as much warmth as he could. More than ever you were regretting the fight, wishing you could wrap your arms around him and let him use up all the body warmth you had to offer.
You were surprised to find him sleeping so soundly, as he usually couldn’t find slumber when his mind was busy processing stress or conflict. His exhausted state made you feel even more guilty as you realized how little you took his current workload into consideration when targeting your attacks at him. And that’s when you realized that even more than you expected him to be late for your date that night, you wanted him to be. Because then it would validate your anger without you having to discuss how you had been feeling. It was a fix all, a get out of jail free card; finally release the anger that had been building up over the past two weeks and then move on. What you didn’t consider was the casualty you turned your boyfriend into. Nor did you expect the insecurity you still felt from the start of your relationship to surface. There was a time, one single time, when you didn’t find Yoongi asleep on your couch after a fight.
But he was there now. And you needed to find a way to let go of the past, forgive, and move forward together.
Lost in your thoughts and revelations, you were suddenly pulled back into the present moment when the dryer beeped to signal it had completed its cycle. Jumping in start, your eyes widened as you stared at Yoongi, hoping he wouldn’t wake up and catch you watching him. Frozen for just a few seconds, you waited for any sign of consciousness before quickly backing away and heading for the dryer.
Reaching into the machine, your arms were shrouded with the warmth of freshly dried blankets. Glancing over your shoulder at the sofa, you pouted, remembering how cold Yoongi looked. Without a second thought, you found yourself approaching Yoongi once more, comforter in hand. Stopping in front of the couch, you peered down at him and prepared to drape the warm blanket over him.
However, you spotted one of his yellow notepads stuck between his arm and abdomen, full of words that he must have scribbled down before falling asleep. It was lyrics, no doubt, and normally you would have read over the words with great curiosity and appreciation for Yoongi’s lyrical talent. But with the previous events of your evening with Yoongi, you felt as though that would be an invasion of privacy. Or maybe you were worried you would find harsh words about yourself, though realistically you doubted it. Whatever the reason, you gently tugged on the notepad, freeing it of his grasp before setting it aside on the coffee table, along with the pen that rolled onto his stomach.
As carefully as you could, you set the blanket over his frame, tucking it in just slightly around him, not wanting to wake the man. Satisfied with your work, you stepped back and glanced at his features, ensuring his eyes were still shut, his mouth still open signaling a deep sleep.
His cheeks were so soft and plush, his facial structure so delicate. You could stare at him for ages but you worried the unspoken love and regret that was screaming within your heart and mind would wake him. But for just a moment longer, you inspected his features, appreciating the soft gentleness that was always so present within them. If only you could be more like him. You were certain the world would be so much kinder, considerate, and serene if more people could embody the stunning nature that was your boyfriend. Yoongi had never once lashed out against you in the way that came so naturally to you. You wondered if he knew how much you appreciated that about him. Even when angry, he was always so gentle.
Sighing, you forced yourself to leave him to sleep, returning to your room where you would continue to ruminate on the mistakes that you wish you could take back.
Tumblr media
You didn’t know at what point you had finally succumbed to sleep but you did know that Yoongi was the only thing on your mind when you slipped into a state of slumber. Consciousness came slow at first, your mind hazy as you took your time piecing together the elements of the new morning. And then it came fast, anxiety crashing through you as you recalled the events of the previous night and realized you’d have to face Yoongi.
The sound of rummaging from outside the room alerted you that your boyfriend was awake and moving around. A part of you wanted to stay locked away, safe within the walls of your bedroom. But a larger part knew you had to emerge and try to fix the damage you had caused. Instinct and habit were battling it out with growth and trust, and you knew which you had to choose.
Emerging from your self-made cell, you sheepishly made your way toward the kitchen where the sounds of action were coming from. The smell of food cooking suddenly flooded your nostrils and when you turned into the kitchen, you found Yoongi standing at the stove as he prepared breakfast, two awaiting plates set to the side. Why was he cooking for you?
As you entered his peripheral, he turned to you, his eyes wide, his features as gentle as ever. The tension was palpable, but the slight upturn of Yoongi’s mouth helped to cut it just slightly.
“Thanks for the blanket,” he spoke to you, your heart racing at the minor interaction. Nodding at him, he returned his gaze back down to the contents within the frying pan. “Did you sleep ok?”
Scrutinizing him slightly, you stared at him as he tossed around the egg mixture, his eyes not lifting as he patiently waited for your response. “Not really,” you admitted quietly, Yoongi’s sweet orbs meeting yours once again. How could he look at you with so much understanding after last night? He should be angry and bitter, lecturing you on your behavior.
The man silently turned to the coffee pot, filling one of your mugs before adding some milk and sugar, fixing it just how you liked it. The simple gesture had tears pricking your eyes because after everything, he was still caring for you. Because he wanted to.
Walking toward you, he held the steaming ceramic cup out to you, forcing a small smile of gratitude from you. “Thanks,” you whispered as you took the coffee from him, holding back tears that Yoongi immediately noticed.
“Kid,” he whispered with a frown just as you directed your misty eyes to the contents of the mug, suddenly finding the tan coloring of the liquid fascinating. “Hey,” he called for your attention.
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled childishly. “I don’t know how to do this, I don’t know how to-” you cut yourself off as a tear fell to your thumb, your hand wrapped around the warm mug. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked, stepping toward you and placing a hand to the back of your head. He dipped his face into your eye line, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I love you.”
The three words served as a reminder and an explanation, as if his love for you meant he wouldn’t want to treat you with anything but kindness. And that was new. Foreign. And overwhelming.
When he leaned forward to press his lips to your forehead, it all felt even more confusing but you were grateful. Grateful for the respect and compassion he dedicated to you, even when you didn’t feel deserving.
“You don’t know how to do what?” He asked softly, his lips ghosting over your skin.
Pulling away from you, he looked into your eyes. Yoongi was someone who was always a bit awkward with eye contact, struggling to maintain it for too long even with you, and that’s when you realized how hard he was trying to break through your walls. The man was pushing himself outside of his comfort zone in hopes of pulling you out of yours, so you could fall into him like a safety net. He wanted to be that for you.
“You’re supposed to be mad at me or giving me the silent treatment or something and I just-” you shrugged as Yoongi’s eyebrows pulled together as though he was studying you. “It feels like you’ve already forgiven me and I don’t know how to do this without the anger or feeling like I have to grovel for your love.”
The man shook his head instantly, a pout forming on his pretty lips. “You never have to grovel for my love, who taught you that, Kid?” He asked sadly, his empathy washing over you and your past. “I just love you,” he told you for the second time that morning. And as your heart pounded against your chest, Yoongi’s hand found your lower back. “We do this by talking about it. With understanding and accountability. So will you sit at the island and talk to me while I finish cooking us breakfast?”
You had never had a safe place to land, making you believe you were meant to fly, never staying in one place for too long. But Yoongi was giving you that place to land, to rest, to find shelter. Nodding at him, he gave you a small close mouthed smile, one of those ones that pushed his soft cheeks up in just the way you loved. His hand slowly dragged around to your side before sliding off your hip as he headed back to the stove. And you followed, taking a place on one of the stools, setting your mug on the island as you watched Yoongi appreciatively.
“I’m sorry for leaving in the past,” he started, your eyes popping wide open, not expecting for him to initiate the conversation there. “I’m sorry for not fighting for you, and I’m sorry that still looms over you. I had hoped that you were able to move past it but I understand the impact it made and the precedent it set.”
“I wasn’t holding it over you,” you interjected, not wanting him to think that you were hanging onto his mistakes to use against him. “I didn’t even know it still hur-” you cut yourself off, feeling guilty for bringing the word hurt into the discussion.
“It hurts you, Kid,” he looked up from the pan as he spoke. “You can say that.”
“It’s just when that happened it reaffirmed at the time everything I knew to be true about love, you know? Like, it’s fleeting and within an instant it can be removed,” you explained.
“I understand,” he nodded. “And you shouldn’t feel guilty for being affected by my actions.”
“The same can be said for you,” you pointed out, a small smile curving on Yoongi’s lips.
“Touché ,” he lightheartedly commented, making you smile in return. “But you were feeling rejected, Kid. That is on me.”
“No, because I never vocalized anything,” you disagreed.
“I should have known,” he mumbled, expressing disappointment in himself.
“Are you a mind reader?” You asked him, making him stop his inward spiral as he stared at you. “I should have told you so much sooner how I was feeling. I didn’t. That was immature of me.”
Taking a moment to think, the man shook his head at himself. “I still should have never made you feel rejected,” he said, defeat evident in his tone.
“Yoongi,” you sighed. “Baby, sometimes I worry that you make so few mistakes in our relationship that you get this standard of perfection thrown on you, and that’s not realistic. You’re going to fuck up, I’m going to fuck up, I don’t want it to be the end of the world when that happens.”
Stunned by your words, he stared at you with widened eyes, his jaw slightly opened, appearing almost frozen in place. Closing his mouth, he cleared his throat before wetting his lips just slightly, his tongue lingering in the corner of his mouth as he sorted through his thoughts.
“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted softly, your lips forming into a pout as tears formed in your eyes.
“I know that,” you assured him. “Yoon, we had one of our biggest fights last night where I gave you my worst and since then I’ve caught you finishing my laundry and cooking me fucking breakfast, and you’ve been nothing but sweet to me, and- do you know how incredible that is? How much that means to me?”
Yoongi blinked quickly, an attempt to conceal the tears that had bubbled in his own eyes. You were certain that a conflict as big as the one you and Yoongi had found yourselves in should be harder to fix. There should be more conversation, more pleading, more tears, more fighting. But he presented you with a safety net, and you found yourself breaking through your own walls and falling into it.
“I love you,” you told him, wanting to assure him the way he did you.
Sighing, he stared at you, gratitude shimmering in his orbs. “Can you forgive me for the past?”
“I already did,” you told him sincerely. And you had. “It’s just a process, you know, unlearning what I thought love was and relearning it as, this,” you gestured between yourself and Yoongi. “I have to accept that this is how you love me and that you’re not going anywhere.” Shrugging at him, you huffed. “Insecurities work their way in but I trust you, Yoongi.”
“I’m still sorry. For the past, and for making you feel rejected,” he told you, making you glare at the man.
“I accept your apology, and it’s ok. But I don’t want you living in a constant state of apology, I won’t allow it,” you told him sternly.
The comment drew a breathy chuckle out of the man, Yoongi’s small gummy smile pushing out the remaining tension, and effectively filling your lungs with air.
“I’m sorry for being immature and blowing up,” you told him. “And for bringing up past shit and being mean and not vocalizing my concerns and-”
“Hey,” he smiled sweetly. “It’s all ok. Really, Kid, we’re ok.”
Nodding at him, you sighed in relief. You were still left with some remaining guilt over the fight, which you’d be making up for whether he wanted you to or not. But you felt a sense of closure to last night, the past two weeks, and the fight that nearly ended your relationship before it could truly start almost a year ago.
As Yoongi broke away from the conversation to place the finished food onto the plates, you glanced to the side of the island, noticing the yellow notepad that sat with the first page folded over the top binding. More words were scribbled than last night, indicating that Yoongi had woken up and finished jotting down lyrics before you emerged from your room.
“Did you read them?” Yoongi’s voice cut through your thoughts as he appeared beside you, setting a plate in front of you. Looking up from the notepad to meet his gaze, you shook your head.
“I didn’t feel like I had the right,” you told him, Yoongi pulling his eyebrows together in scrutiny. “Plus it was dark in there, my eyes aren’t that good,” you joked.
“Yeah you’re blind,” he humorously deadpanned.
“I am,” you easily agreed.  
“You could have read them,” he returned to the original topic as he gently dug his fingers through your slept-on hair, massaging the roots sweetly. “It’s about you.”
“A new cypher verse?” You teased, eliciting a chuckle from the man as his shoulders shook adorably.
“You’ll have to do a lot more to earn yourself a cypher verse, Kid.”
Shooting him a glare with your eyebrow raised, you smirked. “Is that a challenge?”
“No,” he shook his head, leaning down toward you. “It’s not,” he whispered just before his lips met yours, kissing you softly. Your hand found his waist, wanting to hold some piece of him as you kissed him back, pouring forgiveness and love into the act.
When he pulled away, a stupidly cute gummy grin directed to you, you couldn’t help but return the smile, a small giggle slipping from your lips. “Don’t ever write a cypher about me, I’ll cry,” you told him jokingly. “Even when I’m mean,” you added with a forced pout, Yoongi smiling just before placing a peck to your mouth once more.
“You call that mean?” He asked as he pulled away and sat down in the stool next to you. “You’re gonna have to do much better than that, I’m Min Yoongi.”
“He says Min Yoongi as if that’s not synonymous with a honey boy,” you teased as you took a bite of your food, immediately moaning at the taste. Yoongi pulled a disgusted expression at your dramatized reaction to the food, making you giggle.
“I’m your honey boy. That hasn’t changed,” he pointed out just as he took a bite himself.
And as you stared at him with a dumb smile, your eyes holding all of the love in the world, you felt excitement and gratitude that you’d get to shower him in all that love and affection for as long as he’d let you. And if that morning was any indication, he’d be letting you for your entire lives.
798 notes · View notes
lavienjin · 5 days ago
first love | myg
Tumblr media
synopsis: After an incredibly long day, Yoongi found you crying in the copy room. Though he doesn't talk much, you've always found his presence comforting, and it didn't surprise you when he stayed and listen to you vent. However, while you sought comfort in his embrace, he proposed a special offer to reduce your stress with the magic of his hands. The only catch to your arrangement? You couldn't fall in love.
But wouldn't you know it, just as your friendship deepens into something more, you find an old notebook sitting on his bookshelf, and in it, a collection of poems. The last entry has you reeling because it's addressed to you. And in that page, a single line is written: Without you, I am nothing.
→ part of the virtue, vice, and everything nice collab.
Tumblr media
pairing: yoongi x reader
wc: 11.3k
genre/rating/au: 18+ | fwb, coworkers, f2l au | smut, angst
warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, semi public sex, multiple smut scenes, multiple orgasms, oral (m. & f. receiving), masturbation, exhibition, lots of feelings. like a lot of feelings :(
author's note: i'm fully aware that this song is about a piano but i don't want to write angsty musician yoongi since it hits a little close to home, so i put my own spin into it. thank you to the lovely @ddaechwita for the banner! this is part of @missgeniality's wings collab so please make sure to check out the rest of the authors! ♥
i wanna give a shoutout to one of my favourite authors out there! @yoonia happy heckin birthday, my love!! i tried to channel your energy when i was writing this. truly, your fics give me a lot of inspiration!!!
m.list | ao3
Tumblr media
You first entered Helion Game Company together as interns, assigned to comb through thousands of customer complaints while sitting across from each other.
Yoongi didn’t speak much; opting to tilt his head every time you greeted him good morning, but the way his eyes twinkled as he listened to you talk about your weekend caused a confusing array of feelings to emerge quietly in your heart. And the feelings continue to blossom whenever you return to find the occasional tangerine next to your computer after you’ve had a long day.
To you, Yoongi would always be that seemingly aloof coworker with a tight rein on his emotions, but one whose voice can command the entire room with just the simplest of words. It wasn’t surprising that he rose quickly through the ranks and you watched with quiet pride when he was inducted into the Senior Sound Engineers circle for the next version launch of the company’s hit mobile game.
Though it took you a few more months, you soon joined him in the ranks to work alongside the project with a team of Creative Directors. Introducing yourself to a room of ambitious souls was a nerve-wracking experience, but it was only made bearable when you caught Yoongi’s eyes in the back of the room as his warm presence continued to provide a quiet flow of support that strengthened your nerve. Ever since that day, you held his gaze steadfastly whenever you presented a new concept to the team, and if you’re lucky, you’d find a tangerine sitting prettily on your desk the next morning.
With the highly anticipated one-year anniversary launch coming up soon, you’re swamped with endless meetings to finalize the details that would be included, so much so that you’d find yourself reminiscing about the early days. Though combing through a never-ending list of demands from players was tedious, you relished in the quiet that surrounded you and Yoongi, the two of you lost in your own worlds with only the clicks of keyboards accompanying your routines.
As time and busyness enveloped your lives, they robbed you from seeing one another and it didn’t surprise you to learn that the sprouting feelings you once had for the ebony-haired man were eventually absorbed by the cacophony of noise around you. However, not all is lost, because you’ve gathered the scattered petals on the ground and chose to call it a different name: friendship.
And though it felt like months since you last talked or even been in the same room with each other, you couldn’t help but smile at the rare moments when you’re greeted in the morning with the comforting scent from the small, citrus fruit.
The day started out rather pleasant, the stifling summer air made way for a gentle breeze, cooling down the normal heatwave that lurks in the alleys of the city. You hadn’t even slept that terribly, even waking up before your alarm clock to enjoy the morning air as you sipped coffee from your favourite mug. As you smiled at the chirping birds in a nearby tree, you just can’t shake the feeling that today was going to be great.
Or so you thought.
As soon as you arrive at the office, your lifted spirits deflate as your assistant frantically calls your name in near tears.
“Dowon leaked the character concept,” she informs you in a high-pitch shriek as you shouldered your way through a sea of panicking bodies. “Namjoon wants to see you.”
From what you can gather in the few minutes you had with your assistant as you turned around to walk in the other direction towards Namjoon’s office, the newest artist in your team, Dowon, had posted a selfie of himself on Twitter that contained the early sketches of the not-yet-released Yuna in the background. He hadn’t realized his mistake until he checked his ever-buzzing phone, and upon looking at the encroaching thousands of retweets and likes, his panic was evident in his pallor. Although he deleted the tweet immediately after his discovery, the news had already spread like wildfire – with users reposting the tweets on multiple platforms outside of just Twitter.
When you enter Namjoon’s office, his back is turned towards you. He’s talking to someone on the phone in harsh whispers, though your deafening heart rate makes it hard for you to piece together the words.
“G-Good morning,” comes a timid voice from your side.
You blink in surprise at Dowon’s trembling figure. Of course, he’d be here, but your mind had been so preoccupied with the disaster that you hadn’t noticed his presence. With his shoulders raised to the skies, he sinks into himself, unable to meet your gaze. You’re suddenly parched, throat constricting around your reply, unable to push the words out, so you offered him a half-hearted smile instead.
Your attention is stolen when Namjoon clears his throat. The blue tie on his neck is slightly loose, and the way he sighs as he slumps on his dark leather chair causes a stone to drop in your stomach. When Namjoon regards you with his steel gaze, his mouth is pulled into a grim line.
“I assume you’ve been informed about what happened?”
Dowon squeaks from beside you and you steal a quick glance at the pitiful man, your heart clenching at the unshed tears in his eyes. He isn’t the best artist in your team, but he does work the hardest. If Namjoon decides to terminate his contract, it will be hard for you to hire another artist so late into the development.
You nod. “Minju told me what happened on our walk to your office, yes.”
Namjoon’s face is unreadable, a stone mask that doesn’t betray what he’s thinking. The only indication that this situation may be worse than what you’d imagine is the way Namjoon’s tongue prods the inside of his cheek, a rare expression you’ve only seen a handful of times in your employment.
You’re unable to breathe with the thick, palpable tension in the air. Namjoon studies both your figures in the silence, and you wonder if he’s quietly enjoying this.
“Dowon,” he says calmly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m—I’m sorry, sir. It w-won’t happen again,” Dowon stammers. He bows as he balls his slacks into his fists.
Namjoon nods and returns his attention to you. “Tell me, how’s his performance as of late?”
You feel a prickling sensation as Dowon’s pleading gaze snaps to you. “His work is consistent.” You maintain the intense eye contact with Namjoon, resolute in defending your employee. “You won’t find another artist like him this late in the game, sir.”
Tension releases your body from its hold when Namjoon shifts his gaze away from you. The breath of relief you let out seems to reassure Dowon, and from the corner of your eye, you can see the way his shoulders begin to relax.
“Dowon, you may go,” Namjoon announces.
You offer a congratulatory smile at the man beside you, one he returns with a deep bow before he scurries out of Namjoon’s office. The unsettling feeling returns to your stomach when the door shuts behind you.
“Unfortunately,” Namjoon mutters, his expression turning grim once more. “I have some bad news for you.”
You can’t stop the hot tears from making their way down your cheeks as you barricade yourself in the copy room. Your team, possibly sensing your ire after you left Namjoon’s office without so much as a hint of a smile, has left you alone to wallow until it was time for them to go, where they quietly slip away without so much as a wave.
“Stupid thing!” you grumble, kicking the wheel of the copier in frustration.
For the past hour or so, you’ve been trying to print the incident report you’ve painstakingly typed out all afternoon. Your meeting with Namjoon has left a nasty mark on your otherwise pristine office life. You can’t blame him, knowing that the decision has been made prior to you stepping foot on the ugly navy carpet of your office, but you can’t help the anger that rises steadily towards the man either.
After Dowon left, having been dismissed by Namjoon, your boss informed you that you’ve been written up for your negligence, which, as you spat out to him that morning, was complete and utter bullshit. Namjoon patiently listened to you rant as you plead your case, but your passionate words didn’t make a dent in his armour.
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon murmured as he handed you a yellow slip. “Please have this signed along with the incident report. I expect it on my desk first thing in the morning.”
The beeping from the printer breaks you of your thoughts and you cast your gaze down to the LCD screen flashing red and yellow, signifying yet another paper jam on the side of the printer.
Defeat pulls you down on to the floor, where you bring your knees close to your chest as you bury your face into your hands.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You lift your face to meet Yoongi’s worried gaze. Great.
“Yeah,” you sniffle, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just been a really long day.” You let out a half-hearted chuckle, one that Yoongi returns with a sad smile.
He makes his way to your crouched figure before sitting down next to you, both your backs leaning against the printer. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Though you’re touched by his sincerity, a part of you hesitates to tell him what’s wrong, especially since your interactions thus far have been minute due to your busy schedules.
Sensing your reluctance, Yoongi nudges you lightly with his shoulders, a growing smile on his face. “Come on,” he urges. “I’ve heard you talk about your weekend since we were interns. You were never shy about discussing your thoughts before, why are you hiding them from me now?”
With a shuddering sigh, you smile gratefully at Yoongi before highlighting the unfortunate moments from this morning. True to his nature, Yoongi listens closely as you speak, chiming in once or twice with a few hums. Though as you begin to retell what happened in Namjoon’s office, Yoongi tenses beside you, his once worried expression morphing into fury.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi slams his fist to the copier behind you. “That’s bullshit!”
“Yeah? Well, tell that to Namjoon,” you snicker. In all the time you’ve known Yoongi, you have never seen him so upset. “It’s fine, really. I’ve never been written up before, so it’s not the end of the world. Plus, Namjoon said that it was out of his hands,” you sigh. “I just hope it doesn’t look bad on my performance review.”
Yoongi releases his bottom lip from his teeth, but not after he tortures it to a point where you see little pricks of red peeking through the soft tissue. Your hand moves on its own as you wipe his bottom lip with your thumb, tutting at the small injury. When you realize what you’ve done, you snatch your hand away quickly, your cheeks aflame when Yoongi looks at you with wide eyes.
“I’m so sorry, force of habit!” you stammer. “I have cousins and they’re a messy bunch, always wrestling with each other and getting cuts all over.”
God! What was wrong with you? With a silent prayer for the ground to open up, you bury your face into your hands, trying to hide away the embarrassment colouring your face.
“Thank you.”
With an amused chuckle, Yoongi gingerly removes your palms from your face to force your gaze back to his. “I mean it,” he whispers as he lets go of your hands. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” you utter just as quietly. “Really, I should be thanking you for listening to me; not just about this fiasco, but for all the times I bugged you during our intern days.”
Yoongi tilts his head, his smile faltering slightly. “That’s assuming that you’re a bother.” At your protests, he begins to laugh, shaking his head. “Nah, I like listening to you talk,” he beams. “If I hated your voice, I wouldn’t have listened to you drone on and on about the countless awful blind dates your friends set you up with.”
“Oh my god! Why would you bring that up?” you laugh, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, I should probably get on with this,” you pat the printer a few times, “I still have an incident report to print out.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes at the mention of your task. “Leave it until the morning. It’s all formality anyway.”
“I would never have guessed that one of the greatest sound engineers in our company is a troublemaker.”
He chuckles at your teasing grin. Maybe it’s just your imagination, but there’s an amused glint in his eyes as he murmurs, with a voice so low that goosebumps appear on your skin, “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Your thoughts slow to a crawl as he pins you with his gaze. Was his face always this close to you? Breathing becomes secondary as your heart hammers in its cage. What was he thinking behind those rich irises?
“Yoongi, I…” you begin, but you’re not sure what you wanted to say next.
The spell breaks when his lips curl up into an easygoing smile. “Come on.” Yoongi stands and offers you a hand. “I’ll help you with the printer, only if you promise to get a drink with me.”
Bewildered at his sudden offer, you can only muster a nod as he helps you stand.
“Okay, let’s see what’s going on with this thing…”
You watch Yoongi work on the printer for a few minutes, though really, your mind is drifting further away as the feelings you thought had disappeared seem to resurface back into reality. After opening two separate compartments in the printer, Yoongi’s able to find the source of the jam and removed it, instructing you to press a few buttons on the small LCD screen. Like magic, the flashing red warning sign stops and a little jingle resounds instead before the machine begins to spit out your documents into the tray.
“How did you…” you begin, staring in awe as the printer staples your report together.
“Well, the IT guys were taking a long time to appear this one time and our team really needed to print some reports. Since no one seemed to know what to do, I just rolled up my sleeves and opened it to find the issue,” he explains as he hands you the stack of paper. “Ever since then, every time this printer acts up, my team usually comes to me for help.”
Yoongi flashes an amused smirk in your direction as he wipes his toner-covered hands with a handkerchief. “So, ready for that drink?”
The walk to the trendy bar just a little way outside of your office is filled with a round of 20 questions. It’s strange to see Yoongi in this light, so animated and full of life. He talked about college; how he switched majors from business despite his parents’ disapproval. In return, you talk about your favourite musicians before learning that you listen to similar genres.
When you enter the mostly full bar and squeeze yourselves into the booth, the conversation never ceases, only stopping briefly when a waiter comes to take your order. Not wanting to drink on an empty stomach, you ordered a plate of appetizers – wings and nachos – to accompany your liquor.
“Good choice. They have the best nachos here,” Yoongi comments just as the waiter takes your menu and leaves.
“Oh? Do you come here often?”
“Yeah. They have live music a few times a month and my friend recently got a gig here, so I showed up to support him.” Yoongi points to the dim stage area where a microphone and a singular chair stand.
“That’s sweet of you! Okay, what else don’t I know about you, Yoongi… Do you have a secret identity? Office worker by day, criminal mastermind by night?” you tease.
Yoongi laughs into his hand, shaking his head. “Oh, if I was a criminal mastermind, I wouldn’t be stuck working at an office job. I’d just steal a bunch of money so I can live in peace.”
Just as you begin to ask about his plans for conquering the world, your food and drinks arrive, holding off the conversation for a later time. You’re too busy munching on your nachos and sipping your liquor of choice that it takes you a moment to realize that Yoongi stopped eating.
“What’s up?” you ask.
Yoongi studies you as he brings the glass of beer to his lips. “Nothing, I’m just glad you’re finally yourself again.”
“It helps that I have a friend to talk to,” you beam. “Thanks for taking me out tonight too.”
“Don’t mention it,” he smiles. “Sorry, I got a bit in my head there because I felt like I was pushing you to go when you didn’t want to.”
“Honestly? I’m glad you did. If not, I would’ve been at home alone to just drink myself under. That can’t be healthy.”
“Oh, and drinking in a relatively crowded bar is?” he fires back before bursting into laughter.
“That’s not what I meant!” you protest with a pout, stuffing your face full of nachos.
You continue to eat until only the platter empties. Through the night, the empty glasses beside you increase in quantity as you let yourself go with the flow of conversation and music. Once, Yoongi made you try something called a ‘Blue Moon’, his favourite beer imported from the Midwestern area of the United States that is served with a slice of orange.
“That reminds me, I never thanked you for the tangerines you leave on my desk,” you muse, drinking the last of the beer. The citrusy taste lingers on your tongue even as you switch over to chug a glass full of water.
Yoongi grins as he raises his glass. “Of course. A good job always deserves a reward.”
“Oh, and what kind of reward are you looking for?” You couldn’t help but snort when Yoongi chokes on his drink.
“You’ll pay for this one day,” he pouts as he cleans up his mess with a napkin.
Sure, your day was less than stellar, but after the Yoongi’s presence, you couldn’t help the smile that found its way into your face as you crawled into bed.
The next couple of days after the incident was just as you expected. The office is abuzz with gossip when you enter, with some brave folks asking if what transpired during Namjoon’s office was true. You confirmed what little you could, preferring to keep the details of your write up a secret, away from loose lips.
Though the energy surrounding your team has shifted, some are wary of working with Dowon in the event that another leak, your spirits lift slightly when you spy a familiar round orange fruit on top of your files this morning. Unlike all the other instances however, this one has a note attached to it.
“Drinks are on me tonight.”
And maybe… just maybe, things aren’t so bad after all.
“Fuck!” You slam the empty glass to the table, causing a few patrons to look over in your direction.
“Whoa, settle down there.” Yoongi’s comforting presence has not placated your anger the way it normally would.
Despite the launch happening within less than a month, your team is behind on some of the last-minute touches for the characters, making you work overtime for the past few days now. Speaking of the devil, your phone chimes and you spy the email that one of your employees sent you, asking for approval on a last-minute design change.
You type your confirmation with a low grumble under your breath, upset that even with the weekend within sight, your team is still hard at work.
“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you mutter as you lock your phone and stash it back in your purse. “I’m sure it’s hellish on your end too and I’m taking this out on you.”
“I guess I should feel honoured?” he snickers, raising his glass to you. “When you were written up, you barely opened up to me and now look at us, drinking away our stress in the same booth every other day.”
You tap the bottom of his beer with your glass before taking a sip, grimacing as the liquor burns its way down your throat. “Well, it beats drinking alone,” you sigh.
Over the past month now, ever since the incident, you and Yoongi have made a point to meet at the bar every now and again, mostly to complain about work.
“Your blood pressure is off the charts, huh?”
“I feel like I’ll probably die before I reach 40 if this is how my team handles every launch,” you grumble, not affected by his joviality.
“Relax, tomorrow’s Friday! And then we have a long weekend ahead of us. Just bear with it for one more day, okay?”
You grumble an unintelligible response as you sip on your drink. Numb from the drinks, you’re not as perceptive as you usually are, completely missing the way he’s currently staring at you. His lips are downturned as he absentmindedly drums his fingers on the side of his beer before he finally pipes up.
“You know… I can help you with that. Your stress, I mean. I know that this was pretty much my idea – to get drunk and forget the stress” – you can’t help but raise your glass and chug as he continues to speak – “but I may have a healthier alternative.”
“Okay, spill. What do you have in mind?”
“I can always make you cum.”
As though he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb in your time together, Yoongi continues to drink his beer nonchalantly, while your mind struggles to comprehend what he just said.
“I’m sorry… what? Are you serious?”
“Of course, I am,” he shrugs. “I mean, I heard an orgasm is the best way to get over your stress and I’m pretty confident in my abilities.”
Your brain is unable to form the correct syllables to convey your thoughts.
The fact that Yoongi finds you attractive is a miracle in itself, especially when he walks around charming everyone in the office with his swoopy black hair and easy smile. Maybe your crush on him is slowly rearing its head again after all these years, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to risk changing the relationship you currently have. Being Yoongi’s friend has been easy; he’s a great listener and you’re only scratching the surface behind the quiet exterior he presents.
However, somewhere deep inside, you must’ve wanted to change the dynamic to something more, or else why would you be questioning his proposal so intently?
While you’re busy staring into the amber liquid in your glass, Yoongi reaches out to cover the back of your hand with his, breaking you from the internal struggle in your mind. “Hey, if you’re not into it, don’t worry,” he chuckles, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I’m just offering my services. No strings attached, kind of deal.”
The question stands: why? As you stare into the hand that’s currently enveloping yours, you can’t fathom why someone like Yoongi would give you the time of day. It didn’t seem real – his proposal. But then, your gaze drifts to his face and after spending so much time with him, you know that Yoongi isn’t one to joke around.
“Don’t think about it too hard, okay?” He speaks just as he spies the waiter coming towards you with your check. “Looks like the bar’s going to close pretty soon. So, how about we get out of here and call it a night?”
That night, you toss and turn in your sheets, feeling a sense of emptiness. You can’t help but replay the scene from the bar – specifically Yoongi's nonchalant proposal.
Unable to sleep, you think. And then you think some more. Until your head is swimming with alcohol and something else.
And that’s when you call Yoongi at 3:22 in the morning, slightly surprised that he’s still awake.
"On the topic of what we talked about in the bar tonight…” you begin, biting your bottom lip nervously.
Yoongi groans on the other line. “I’m serious when I said you shouldn’t worry about it. We’re cool. If you’re not into the idea, I get—”
You cut him off before he could ramble further, smirking into the phone. “How confident are you?”
Instead of answering, Yoongi chuckles. “Wear a skirt and you’ll find out tomorrow, hm?”
It isn’t strange for you to be seated next to Yoongi during the manager’s meeting, especially since how closely you have to work with the sound department, but you can’t help but squirm in your seat as you attempt to listen to Namjoon summarizing the development reports he received in preparation for the launch.
Your seat is pushed almost flushed against the table, with the edge digging into your abdomen, to hide Yoongi’s fingers that are currently trailing ambiguous shapes into your skin. Coupled with the fact that he’s currently holding your panties hostage in the pockets of his slacks, every time you feel the cold bite of his metal rings when he travels higher, you clench around nothing while trying not to whine in front of the twenty-something people gathered in the room.
Taking a chance to look around the room, you’re only met with bored faces and yawning mouths, and there’s a subtle groan when Namjoon moves the PowerPoint slides to talk about last season’s numbers. However, whatever brilliant revelation he’s about to impart on you is drowned out by the roaring desire when Yoongi’s fingertips brush against your folds.
He whistles low while staring at the pie chart, and the few chuckles floating from the back of the room assume that he’s talking about the high numbers last season brought in, when in actuality, Yoongi’s pleasantly surprised at how wet you already are; your pussy sucking his fingers in down to the second knuckle.
The breath leaves your lungs when Namjoon raises an eyebrow when his gaze floats over to the two of you.
“Tell me about it. You really knocked it out of the park with the background music for the new area,” he chuckles, nodding his praise to Yoongi.
The corner of Yoongi’s lips twitch, a smirk threatening to take over his features. Oh, if only your coworkers knew.
Your poor bottom lip is bruised and swollen from your constant need to swallow down your moans. Sweat slicks all over your arms and back as you sit rigid, your legs pushed apart, and Yoongi’s unhurried fingers traverse your sopping cunt, taking care not to make too much noise in the otherwise quiet meeting room.
“All right, that’s pretty much all I have for you today. Thanks for letting me drone on for an hour,” he winces when he looks at the clock, “…and a half. Enjoy the rest of the day,” Namjoon chuckles as he adjourns the meeting.
You exhale gradually when Yoongi leaves your cunt as the others begin to stand. On one hand, you’re relieved, grateful that you weren’t caught because you were definitely breaking a slew of code violations while you’re getting handsy on the table. On the other, the strong need to orgasm only surges in your veins, wanting nothing more than to have Yoongi fuck you right then and there; consequences be damned.
“Aren’t you getting up?” Yoongi quips, an amused grin on his face.
You glower at his smirk, unable to form a sensible comeback with your heartbeat still steadfast on a thundering rhythm. When you do get out of your chair, the grip you hold on to the back is strong, your legs feeling like jelly after being teased for so long.
“I’m fine,” you grumble as Yoongi extends a hand – the one that was inside of you just mere moments ago.
With your shaky legs, you walk stiffly out of the meeting room, but not after stealing a glance around the remaining crowd to see if anyone noticed anything strange. Everyone, including Namjoon, seemed indifferent.
“And how was that?” Yoongi questions once you’re out of earshot.
“Unbelievably hot. I think I could’ve cum if Namjoon kept on talking,” you admit with a grin.
“Interesting,” he hums. “Do you have any meetings after this?”
Before answering his question, you look through your phone calendar. “Nope, I don’t have anything until 2pm.” That’s a lie – you meant to check in with your artists all day today, but the curiosity got the better of you and you wonder what it was he has planned.
“Come to my office in half an hour? I’ll make sure we’re undisturbed.”
Though he posed it as a question, you know it’s anything but.
Yoongi walks away with a smirk and you have to bring your legs together as you anticipate what he has planned next.
This is nothing like the meeting this morning.
Yoongi has you pressed up against the copier, holding your leg up as his fingers return to their rightful place inside you. The metal bits dig into your shoulders as you shift your hips, allowing him access into your deepest parts.
The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut in time with his thrusts. The sleeves of his dress shirt are seeped with your arousal, yet Yoongi doesn’t care, too focused on your pussy swallowing his fingers whole.
“Look at you,” he breathes, marvelling at the way your chest rises and falls rapidly. “So needy and wet. Keep your voice down, hm? We don’t want the whole office to hear us, do we?”
You inhale sharply before busying yourself with your bottom lip as he slams his hand repeatedly inside, his fingertips stroking the patch of nerves that has your body jerking in his grip. The coil has been building for some time now – your head is already swimming with desire. When his thumb presses circles on your clit, you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you come undone.
“S-So close,” you whimper. You’re arching your back as you’re practically sprawled all over the copy machine.
“Just let go, cum all over my hands,” he rasps before dipping lower to graze his teeth along your pulse point. “Cum for me.”
With a strangled moan, your body obeys his command. “Yoongi—fuck.”
While your team is out there, perfecting the project that’s due in a matter of weeks, you’re pulled apart at the seams – the orgasm slamming into you like waves as it cascades down your spine, making you shudder.
“Good girl, so good to me,” Yoongi mumbles absentmindedly into your hair. “So pretty when you cum.”
Your vision is blurry, filled with dancing lights as you attempt to calm your breathing. When Yoongi slips his fingers out of your cunt, you hiss, aching at the sensitivity. He massages your thighs with a hum, paying attention to the leg that was propped up for the entire duration of the… events.
“How’d I do?” he teases as he helps you smooth out the wrinkles from your skirt.
You’re honestly still reeling. Though your heart isn’t traveling a thousand miles an hour, it’s still clocking in the upper hundreds. Yet, your body did feel lighter, your mind also clearer somehow. You must admit, Yoongi orchestrated your body like an expert conductor – as though he’s known you all your life. No one has made you cum that quickly before.
Perhaps you should’ve kept those thoughts to yourself because you can see the way Yoongi seems to glow at your compliment: pride filling his chest along with a confident smirk on his face.
“Now, can I have my panties back, please?” you whisper as you hold out your hand.
Yoongi seemed to think for a moment, his lips turned upwards to the side. At your amusement and horror, he shakes his head. “I think I’ll hold on to these for the rest of the day.”
“Yoongi,” you state flatly, nervousness clawing up your belly, but you can’t deny the thrill either, so you don’t push it.
After he makes sure that no one seems to be paying attention to the copy room, Yoongi helps you sneak away, but not before filling your thoughts with some of his other ideas.
Your day passes like a blur, and you find yourself locking your legs more often as your distracted brain thinks about the events that happen this morning. The idea of Yoongi walking around the office with your lace underwear stuffed in his slacks makes poor company when you’re trying to work.
Too engrossed in your thoughts, you hadn’t realized that your assistant had let herself in until she called your name again with a cough.
“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly. “I’m a bit distracted right now.”
Your assistant merely smiled demurely as she hands you a stack of reports you requested. “Here’s the information on the developments we’ve made over the past few months and the breakdown of the new region from the programmers for next year’s launch. We can start meeting with them to talk about what they want the art team to start working on.”
You skim through the details, humming along as your assistant explains the finer points of what is written. “Thank you, Suha. This looks good,” you praise.
Suha bows to you with a proud smile, but instead of leaving, she shifts her weight as she stands. “Actually, I was wondering if I could leave in half an hour?” she requests.
A mischievous idea pops in your head and you have to thread your hands together to avoid immediately texting a certain dark-haired man. “Sure,” you chirp in a voice too high as you fail to hide your excitement. Clearing your throat, you try again. “Yes, Suha. You’ve done a good job. Please feel free to leave now if you’d like.”
Suha claps her hands together and bows. “Thank you!” she calls out before disappearing.
When the door to your office closes shut, you fire out a text and hum, fingers drumming impatiently on the oak table as you wait for Yoongi to arrive.
“Took you long enough,” you smirk when he opens the door.
“Well, unlike some people, I was busy managing my team.”
Poking his head one more time to make sure that no one’s noticed his arrival, Yoongi closes the door firmly behind him, locking it in place.
“Now, why have you brought me into your office, hm?” he asks rhetorically before stuffing his hands in his pockets and pulling out the familiar garment. “Could it be because of this?”
You laugh quietly with a shake of your head. “Maybe it has something to do with that,” you muse, watching him approach with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. “Or maybe it’s because I’m just so stressed, you know?”
Yoongi chuckles at your insinuation before leaning forward until your faces are inches apart. “And,” he husks, wetting his lips with his tongue, “How can I help you?”
You hum as you grab him by the collar, crashing your lips against his as an answer to his question. In a spectacular feat, Yoongi’s strong arms lift you up from across the table, pulling you flush against his chest as he sits you down in front of him. Your legs wrap around his torso, causing your skirt to rise to display your bare pussy towards him.
Yoongi’s rough hands dig into the meat of your thighs as he grinds into your core. “Tell me. How did it feel walking around the office with no panties all day, hm?”
“Exhilarating,” you admit in a breathless moan, body aflame with desire as you feel his erection drag against your clit.
“And look at you now, so needy and ready for more. What do you think your team would say if they saw you like this?” Every few words are punctuated with Yoongi’s fingers undoing the buttons to your blouse.
“God, don’t ask me that,” you pout, arching your chest forward. “I don’t want to think about work right now.”
At this, he laughs. “Have you been thinking about work at all during the day? Some might say you’re a little distracted.”
Yoongi cuts off whatever retort you had prepared when he kisses along your jawline and down your neck, nipping the skin just harsh enough to send shivers down your spine, as he continues his mission to free your tits from their cage.
“Pretty,” he mumbles into your skin while palming your breasts.
The combined stimulation is almost too much for you to handle. With his hard cock dragging against your bare cunt and his lips attacking your neck, it doesn’t take long before your skin is riddled with goosebumps as you clamp your lips shut to stop yourself from moaning too loudly.
You find a moment of clarity when Yoongi unbuttons his pants, but just as you reach out to help him, a knock resounds at the door.
The two of you looked at each other in a momentary state of panic as you buttoned up your blouse in haste. Your hands tremble, making it hard for the plastic beads to slip into place, but somehow you managed to not wrinkle your clothes too much, though your heart thunders in your ears when you hear Namjoon, of all people, call your name from the other side of the door.
Making sure you’re both half decent, you unlock the door and yank it open, revealing a startled Namjoon in front of you.
“Uh… hey. Are you okay? Why was your door locked?”
You’re sweating and shaking, almost getting caught by your boss will do that to a person, but somehow you manage a curt nod, and when you lie, your voice actually sounded believable. “Yeah, just got a call about some interesting news from my family. How can I help you?”
Namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before shaking his head. “How about we talk inside?”
“That… um…” Your brain stalls for an excuse but fails. With a dejected heart, thinking that you’re probably going to get fired at this rate, you seal your fate and let your boss in… only to find yourself staring into an empty office.
Where had Yoongi gone?
Namjoon closes the door behind you and makes his way to your desk. You trail after him but before glancing around the room again. You find your answer when you sit down in your chair. Hunched under the desk is Yoongi, who has both his feet tucked under his chin as he grins at you. If Namjoon catches the way your eyes widen in surprise, he says nothing as you sit down.
“I’m just here to see how you’re doing, especially with the launch happening so soon. Is there anything I can help you with?”
You shift uncomfortably in your chair, especially when you accidentally brush against Yoongi’s leg. “I really appreciate the offer, but you really don’t have to check in on me every single time we have a launch. This isn’t my first time, sir.”
Your boss only sighs, sinking into the chair. “I know, truth be told, I wanted to tell you that I’m in the process of getting your write up to disappear from the HR records since it’s really not your fault.”
“Wait… huh?” You blink at Namjoon slowly, genuinely surprised that he’d go through such lengths.
Namjoon only shrugs. “Yeah, I mean. I feel pretty awful about it. So, I pulled some strings and you have been granted your clean record back. That’s all I wanted to say, really. It just didn’t seem right if I brought it up in the hallway,” he grins, showing off his dimpled cheeks as he finished his explanation.
“Thanks, boss,” you mumble gratefully. “It means a lot to me that you’d do that.”
“Don’t mention it.” Namjoon chuckles. “Anyway, what’s with the interesting call? Is your family okay?”
“Yeah,” you squeak, unprepared for him to call out your lie. “They’re okay, I swear. Just some trouble with my cousins…”
Namjoon seems satisfied with your response, nodding after you trailed off. The silence feels suffocating. After a few more heartbeats, Namjoon stands to leave, calling out behind his shoulder as he opens the door, “Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
The instant the door clicks shut, you jump away from your chair as you help Yoongi stand.
“You all right?” you ask, looking him up and down before deeming that he’s fine.
The easy-going smile returns to his face almost immediately, giving you a full view of his gums. “That could’ve been bad.” Yoongi checks his watch and smiles, pointing at the time. “But, it’s now technically the weekend. So, how about we pack our things and get the hell out of here, huh?”
Yoongi’s apartment is everything like you’d imagine, clean and monochromatic with hints of blue popping here and there. Lining the walls of his bedroom are framed jerseys from a few athletes you recognize, all of them signed and probably costing a good fortune. Besides the decoration, there’s really only one other piece of furniture aside from the bed. Standing on the wall closest to the window is a black floor-to-ceiling bookcase, filled with all sorts of books and a few random photographs of his younger years.
But you have no time to observe fully, not when Yoongi pushes you on the bed with a quiet chuckle, demanding your attention once more as he kisses the length of your throat.
“Now, where were we?” he teases into your skin.
You can only giggle before the sound turns into a groan when his hand digs into the skin of your ass. “I have no idea, but I say, let’s just fuck.”
“Good answer.”
Yoongi doesn’t care to discard your clothing, choosing to simply ruck your skirt to your waist before his hands fit between your legs.
“Yoongi—ah! Stop teasing!” you whine, pressing your back into the mattress as you writhe under his touch.
“Not until I get a taste of you first.”
With a final peck to your lips, Yoongi drops to the edge of the bed before pulling you towards him until you feel his hot breath against your pussy. He takes his time with eating you out – alternating between licking your folds and sucking on your clit – as you moan and gasp around him. Your arousal seeps out of you in a steady trickle, a puddle forming on his sheets.
“Shit…” you grunt. “Do I taste that good?”
“You do,” he mumbles, the deep vibrations from his voice causing you to arch your back. “God, I can taste you all day.”
True to his word, he drowns himself with your pussy, paying more attention to your clit as you feel the orgasm slowly spreading through your body.
“Yoongi, wait,” you breathe, tugging at his dark locks so he’d look at you.
And what a sight he is to behold.
The bottom half of his face is wet with your arousal as he smirks up at you with pupils so blown out, they’re almost black.
“I wanna cum with your cock inside of me,” you confess, sitting up to pull him into a deep kiss. “Haven’t you teased me enough today?”
Yoongi hums into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your body before pushing you back down to the mattress. “I guess that can be arranged,” he chuckles.
With your help, his slacks and underwear are thrown haphazardly on the floor. His cock stands proudly for you to admire; with a leaking reddish tip and a prominent vein running down one side of the shaft. Unable to help yourself, your hand wraps around his length, causing Yoongi to groan as his eyes flutter shut.
“I thought you wanted my cock?” he teases breathlessly.
“Not before I get a taste,” you counter.
Chuckling, he props his pillows along the headboard before settling back, making it easier for you to crawl over and swallow his length. Intent on keeping eye contact, you make short licks around the head before travelling lower, sucking on the tender skin of his balls before moving back up.
“Oh, fuck—” he grunts, hips jumping up when you wrap your lips around the tender head.
While still staring at him through your lashes, you lower yourself until about halfway, the weeping head knocking against the back of your throat making it hard for you to breathe. You hollow your cheekbones as you exit, earning a lovely, guttural groan from the dark-haired man below. Yoongi places a hand on your head as you continue, pumping him in tandem with the movements of your head as you bob up and down his length.
Your remaining hand digs into the skin of his thigh as you take him deeper down your throat, until you manage to sheathe all of him down to the base. Tears spring in your eyes as you whimper around his length, but despite this, you refuse to stop, not when you spy the satisfied smirk on his face that only aids the desire that’s already strong in your veins.
The grip around your scalp tightens as he attempts to pull you off. “I can’t… I’m going to cum if you keep this up.”
His words only add fuel to the fire and you speed up your ministrations despite Yoongi’s attempts to make you stop. Saliva collects into a wet, messy pool on the sheets as you swallow him into your throat. The tears cascade down your face, yet you can’t help but smirk proudly, especially when his lovely eyes flutter shut and his mouth hangs open as he chants your name.
“Fuuuck, I’m going to c-cum—shit!”
You inhale sharply as you push your head down, until his soft curls tickles your nose. A second later, your mouth fills with the salty, bitter taste of cum as Yoongi jerks under your touch, digging his nails into the sheets. You help Yoongi ride out his orgasm with a few pumps of your hand, making sure to collect all the excess without leaving a drop behind. When you’re sure there’s nothing left, you open your mouth to show him your reward before gulping it down with a smile.
With ragged breaths, he watches you swallow with a quirk of his lips; one of the corners pulled up into a half-smirk. “God, that was so fucking hot.”
“It’s your reward for making me feel good this morning,” you wink.
“Are you ready for round 2?” Yoongi asks with a grin.
“I should be asking you that…” But your words trail off when you notice that his dick is still very much hard. “Talk about stamina,” you mumble.
Yoongi chortles as he studies your shell-shocked face. “You look like you’ve never been properly satisfied,” he hums.
“After tonight? I have a feeling that may be the case.”
The two of you burst into laughter before he pulls you closer, kissing you unhurriedly as his hands explore your body to discard your clothes until you lay bare before him.
“You really are gorgeous,” he mumbles as he draws abstract shapes into the small of your back. Catching your eye roll, he chuckles. “I mean it.”
When he sits up to capture your lips, it’s all soft and filled with an emotion you’ve yet to name, and you wished your blood wasn't roaring in your ears because it’s making it incredibly difficult for you to hear what he’s whispering into your skin.
“What were you saying?” you ask when you part. “I think I missed it.”
Yoongi only smiles, but it’s not the brilliant grin that shows the pink of his gums, no, this one is more subdued – delicate – as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Nothing,” he replies, voice low and airy. “I didn’t say anything you don’t already know.”
It’s a strange response, but you really can’t push it further, because in the swirling abyss that exists in the dark pool of his eyes, lies an answer that you’re uncertain you want to know just yet.
Instead, you kiss him again, gliding your lips to get his to open, so your tongues can meet and have the conversation you’re too afraid to voice – for the sake of preserving the moment. You kiss him with ferocity, pushing him back onto the pillows as your hips grind against his hard length.
And when you lower yourself onto his cock, you forget the vow you made, because in this moment, with the moonlight filtering past the sheer curtains in his room, Yoongi is breath-taking. With his soft, dark hair splaying all over the pillows and his slightly swollen lips parted open in a quiet moan; you know you’ve fallen in love. Yoongi’s sincerity is your undoing, ever since the two of you met and sat next to each other when you were interns, and now? As you learn more about him and manage to breach through the quiet exterior? You’re a goner.
And maybe you’re delusional, but you swear, when your lips find his as you begin to move, you can taste the faintest trace of oranges.
Your nails drag down his chest as you roll your hips with his thrusts. “Please,” you beg, but you’re not sure what for. “Please, Yoongi.”
Despite your lack of instructions, Yoongi seems to know exactly what you need. “I got you,” he murmurs as he holds you before flipping you over, letting your chest rest on the mattress below.
Yoongi kisses your spine as he bottoms out again, making you moan into his pillows as he begins to move. “You’re so tight, shit,” he rasps as his fingers find your clit between your legs.
He keeps a steady pace, rocking you back and forth against the bed as you writhe with every drag of his cock and fingers. The only word that exists in your vocabulary at this moment is his name and without shame, you call out to him in a series of pathetic whines. You need him to know how good you feel, but without the ability to form coherent sentences, this is all you can do.
Though just like before, it doesn’t take him long to decipher your tells and he increases his speed, driving his cock deep into your pussy.
Finally, your tongue seems to want to move again. “Feels good… Yoongi…” you manage.
“Yeah? Me too. God, me too.”
He turns you over again then, so that you’re facing him once more. Yoongi crashes his lips to yours as he begins to thrust in earnest, pushing himself deeper than before. Your vision is filled with stars as you grab hold of his neck, rutting in tandem with his drive. What little hold you have left on your sanity wanes as the pressure builds – release so close that it leaves you gasping.
“Gonna-ah c-cum,” you moan, digging your nails into his back.
“Let go,” he commands, and again, he repeats, “I got you.”
The coil snaps at the sound of his promise. “Yoongi!” you shriek, tumbling down the chasm of pleasure. Your walls tightening around his length triggers a second orgasm from him, and with a groan of your name, he floods your insides with his seed.
“Shit… I didn’t—fuck—you felt so good, that I, uhm,” he stutters. Yoongi’s body shudders with pleasure even as he comes down from his high. With a heaving gasp, he collapses next to you, arms too tired to hold himself back up.
You pull him into an embrace while shushing his mumbled speech. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m on the pill, so don’t worry,” you assure him. “And if you’re worried if I came, didn’t you hear me scream? My throat is so sore now, holy shit.”
The both of you chuckle, the airy sounds mingling together. In the silence that follows, you don’t think about the feelings that surged in the midst of your coupling; refusing to acknowledge that he’s the reason that has your heart running a thousand miles a second. It isn’t just because of the nature of your relationship, but you’re genuinely worried of the possibility of losing a friend… and yet… Yoongi feels so perfect in your arms like this, with his smiling face smushed slightly to your chest. In the singular day since you’ve started this relationship, he’s made a habit of trailing shapes on the small of your back while humming quietly to a song you don’t know.
The soothing action pulls you away from your overbearing thoughts for a second. While planting a kiss into his hair, you ask him, “What’s the name of this song?”
“You like it?” Yoongi nuzzles further into your skin, breathing you in. “It’s my own original piece. It’s called ‘First Love’ and I wrote it about my piano back in my mother’s house.”
In your time together, Yoongi’s never mentioned his family or much of his childhood really, though you never thought to ask about them either.
“Music will forever be my first love,” he hums, dark eyes turning glassy as he recalls the memories. “I remembered slaving so hard over the keys that by the time I managed to master my first classical piece without making any mistakes, it drove me to tears,” Yoongi chuckles. “Ever since then, I practiced like a mad man, every single day after school. Just to play one piece after the next. My mother was mad; not because I was making too much noise, but because my studies suffered a lot.”
Your silence allows him to continue, but not before he peeks at you to make sure you haven’t fallen asleep. When your eyes meet his, the two of you smile, but his is much wider, a perfect showcase displaying his pearly teeth. He rolls over so your head lies on his chest, and his hand moves to trace shapes on your shoulder instead.
“My mother threatened to take the piano away, so I ended up working extra hard, on both music and my grades, but somehow it still wasn’t enough. There’s a time when she came into my room and ripped a bunch of the music sheets that I’ve painstakingly collected,” he sighs sadly, casting a faraway look towards the ceiling.
Your heart bleeds as he recites some of the words to the song. The lyrics personifies music as though it truly was his first love, but one line leaves your heart aching and shattered: Without you, I’m nothing.
It’s the decisive and almost unhealthy, nature of the words that cuts you deep. You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but it sounded like he’s shackled to his muse; needing it solely to live.
However, Yoongi isn’t seeking validation, nor is he looking for you to disagree, so you keep your mouth shut as he continues to talk about his life – about having to work two to three jobs while going through college and once he graduated, unable to find a suitable job in his field that lead him to work with Helion today.
“And that’s when I met you,” he chuckles as he tightens his embrace. “Something about you reminds me of the day I learned Chopin for the first time.”
“Why? Because I make you want to be a better person?” you tease, poking him lightly on the cheek.
Yoongi looks down at you with a cocky smirk. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
When you wake up the next day, the sun is peeking into the otherwise dark room through the crack in the blackout curtains. The bed next to you is empty, though the lingering warmth from its previous occupant tells you that he left not too long ago. Sure enough, you find a note on the nightstand tucked under the glass of water.
Gone out for bagels. Text me your order.
You’re smiling as you down the glass, reading the swoops of letters repeatedly before reaching for your phone.
You: just a plain bagel with cream cheese. Strong coffee. Please and thank you. Yoongi: yep.
That one simple text turns you into a giggling mess as you shove the screen close to your face.
Setting your phone aside, your thoughts are too deeply intertwined with yesterday’s events that you can’t help the burning desire that flows through you once more. You’re satisfied; of course, you are, but the thought of spending another day with him, without having to worry about work for another day, especially with the launch being so soon, has you melting into his sheets.
Your breathing hitches as you close your eyes and lay back on the bed, caressing your own skin like Yoongi did the night before. Your fingers pale in comparison to his, yet you let the memories guide you as you tremble with every drag of touch against your clit.
“Yoongi—” you mumble into the quiet morning air.
You press your face closer to his side of the bed and the familiar scent of his cologne has you careen closer to the edge. The whine you let out is nothing short of pathetic as you rut desperately into your hand while your mind conjures up an image of Yoongi leaning against the doorway, bagels abandoned in the kitchen while he studies your actions with amusement.
“Jesus, wetting the bed so early in the morning?” He’d tut, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Guess you can’t get enough of my cock, huh?”
“N-No… need you,” you whisper, hips raised from the bed as your fingers work quicker – wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs to make their mark on the sheets below. “Fuck—need you so badly.”
You press your head into the pillow while you crowd your pussy with another finger. It isn’t enough – nothing compares to the sheer girth of his cock and how effectively it stretches you out to make a mess out of you.
It requires three of your fingers for you to feel full as you replace your hand with the veiny arms belonging to Yoongi in your mind. You imagine him leaning over you with his signature, ever-present smirk on his face as you writhe under his touch. He’d provoke you to be louder, punctuating his words with every drag of his fingers against the patch of nerves in your cunt so that everyone could hear who this pussy belongs to.
It’s sudden – how the forest fire eclipses your whole body that snaps the coil in half. All because your filthy mind conjures up a final image of Yoongi commanding you to let go.
“Shitshitshit—Fuck! Yoongi!” You cum with an embarrassingly broken whine of his name, your fingers plunging deep into your pulsing hole that causes your arousal to squirt on the bed below.
You crash back to the reality of the bed with ragged breaths. The room spins slightly when you open your eyes and you have to blink several times to get the squiggly lines to float away from your vision.
When your breath evens out, you survey the room you’ve neglected in the heat of the moment. You didn’t get a chance to see very much of it last night and with your brain so occupied this morning, this was the perfect time to snoop into your coworker’s life.
Like the vague recollections of his living room, his bedroom is mostly devoid of furniture aside from the bed and the large floor to ceiling bookshelf on the further end of the wall. With nothing else to do, you hop from the bed to take a look at the books, smiling to yourself as you survey the rare photographs in each shelf of a younger Min Yoongi.
As your fingers trail the large tomes of stories, dictionaries, and magazines, you stop when you notice a gap between the end of the shelf and a copy of Don Quixote. Curious, your finger reaches into the gap to produce a small, yellow notebook the size of your palm. The title on the front is illegible, scrawled on by a small child, so you decide to delve through the pages to see what lurks behind.
You chuckle into the book as you read through entries dating as far back as the early 2000s. It’s a collection of poems – written by the one and only Min Yoongi. The earlier pages contain stories of playing outside and ice cream along with brief glimpses of his intelligence as he laments about the fleeting nature of summer.
You’re pleasantly surprised to find that he’s continued the tradition as you study the entries, his once messy handwriting morphing into the swoop of cursive you’re familiar with. It’s interesting to see his life in small glimpses: his teenage self agonizes over his future while the Yoongi in his early twenties begin to explore topics of dreams and goals.
You read each sentence carefully in an attempt to retain all the emotions he’s spilled on the page. Who knew that Yoongi has such an artistic mind?
When you reach the more recent entries, you hesitate, wondering if it’s all right for you to read through them. Unfortunately, your curiosity outweighs the small voice of conscience, so you pressed on.
The thought of Yoongi hunched over his bed scribbling into the tiny notebook makes you smile. You imagine the way his shoulders would curve inwardly while he balances the pages on his lap and that devilish tongue of his would wet his lips occasionally as he thinks.
You suppress a groan as your treacherous mind recalls what that tongue did to you the night before.
Shaking the dirty thoughts away, you return your attention to the last entry on the page. Unlike its predecessors, this one is short, containing only a title and a single line. However, the title itself is confusing - a seemingly random mix of consonants and vowels forming a word you know for sure does not exist in the English language. You figure it’s some sort of code, but your sluggish mind refuses to piece together the anagram, still dipped in sleep and the aftereffects of your orgasm. You grab your phone with a sigh, employing trusty, old Google to do its job. When you input the title into the search bar, for once, autocorrect comes to your rescue… but at what cost?
Disbelief exists in the knot of your eyebrows until you reread the page in its entirety. Realization kicks in slowly, but when it does, you gasp, throwing the notebook and the device away to the floor as if they burned you.
Because the anagram spells out your full name. This entry was written for you.
And the disquiet in your stomach is due to the emotion so easily evoked by a single line, one that you’re all too familiar with:
Without you, I’m nothing.
“I’m back. I got a bunch of bagels because I wasn’t sure which one you liked,” Yoongi calls out as he enters the apartment.
The silence that greets him makes him smile as he assumes that you’re still tired after last night, but when Yoongi walks into the bedroom, your name dies on his lips as he looks on in horror: at the yellow notebook – his yellow notebook – lying face down in front of your feet. Your shell-shocked expression tells him all he needs to know. You’ve read the latest entry.
This all feels like déjà vu; just like the first time he caught you weeping in the copy room. His own bedroom feels foreign to him as he takes a hesitant step inside. Yoongi wants nothing more than to laugh it off as a joke, but he knows you won’t buy the lie.
His attention snaps from the swirling patterns on the carpet to your face. Instead of fear, you seem curious, could he take it as a good sign?
“How much did you read?”
The voice that comes out of his mouth sounds foreign even to his own ears.
Your eyes drift lower then, to the notebook on the floor. “All of it,” you admit in a quiet voice. “I read all of it.”
The room fills with a blanket of tension. With a heavy sigh, you stand and brush past him, heading to the living room.
Yoongi’s eyes trail after you as you sit on the cushions of his couch. With an indescribable smile, you look straight into his eyes.
“Let’s talk.”
Despite your invitation, it’s you that sits mum on the couch next to him, refusing to meet his eyes.
“I saw it, you know.” Yoongi begins with a humourless smile. “The discomfort you felt was written all over your face when I recited that one line.”
You wait for a bit, holding a space for him to talk should he feel the need to elaborate. “You know, I feel like I do the talking in our relationship, but I’m going to need you to listen to me again, okay?” you say as you mirror his solemn grin. After taking a shuddering breath, you explain, “I don’t want to be the sole reason you live, because without me, you should still be something. I mean, you’re so… you,” you gesture at his figure. “Funny, and kind, and sincere. Someone I can trust and even lean on after all these years.”
His face doesn’t betray his thoughts as he refuses to meet your eyes.
“Yoongi,” you reach out to envelope both his hands into your own. “I love you.”
You can tell he hadn’t expected the confession, but his surprise quickly disappears as he laughs bitterly.
“Why do I feel like there’s a ‘but’ in this confession?” Yoongi asks sarcastically and his lips twitch into a faint hint of a smile.
“But… I don’t want to be in a relationship where I feel like you’re not being true to yourself,” you advice as you squeeze his hands with your own. “That doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be with you, but I just need you to know that you are your own person first.”
Yoongi nods as he digests your words. When he finally returns his gaze to you, he seems more relaxed, a genuine smile on his face. “Thank you,” he murmurs as he squeezes your hands in return. “I think I really needed to hear that.”
“So… what happens now?” you ask meekly, despite being the cause of this whole mess.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks, and when he does, there’s a quiet surge of confidence that you hadn’t heard from him before. “I want to be with you,” Yoongi admits. “But I think I’d also like to take things slow.”
“We can do that,” you grin.
And the following week, it’s you that leaves a tangerine on his desk; a signaling promise for tomorrow.
Tumblr media
moon’s notes: ah! don’t we love a semi-ambiguous ending? i didn’t have the heart to end it sadly, so i hope it still makes sense!! thank you so much for reading through this lovely little piece. i appreciate all your love!
thanks for being part of the taglist! (½): @diorejeon @hwngsgf @clumsymandu @yoongskook @bringmetheksj @wacdon @itsallabouthedetails @chimchoom @sunshinerainbowsbts @mrsparknamjoon @thedarkwinterrose @somewhereofftheglobe @typicalgenzworld @nch327 @moonchild1 @kooafraid @syazkook @kookie-vuitton @tenmonthsjay @jimilter @hoseokstrashcan @imcompletelyok @sa1ntsuga @jungkookah-lover @vantxx95 @love2luvya-blog @nochuel @yoontaethings @kookieebangtan @Madamdoue @squeakymeekster @jkbabiey @jikookiekosmos @novilara @btsis7okay @sunflwrxclouds @taecal @fancycollectormoon @Starbrightday @chimmy-licious @outrofenty @codeinebelle @hey-youre-appreciated @sugaslittlekookies @fan-ati–c @bbangtanlove95 @ppeachyttae @taebae19 @ggukkieland @mellygallagher @greezenini @gukkmoans @Jimmeojimin @koolvrr @daggersandicedcoffee @doublebunnykoo @jamlessstars @shrimpmsg @mrcleanheichou @ysltae @etherealyoonkoo @unicornbabylover @majolittlemixgurl18 @Asifihaveaclue @ionasfeelings @moonreadsfics
593 notes · View notes
ressjeon · a month ago
washed on | kth (m.)
Tumblr media
pairing: fratboy!tae x sororitygirl!reader
summary: Taehyung’s heated stares were what drew you in at first and you think he seemed shy since you’re shameless though he’s confusing you the more you see him. Is he just planning all of this or are you also too fixed to see past what he’s been showing you? So who’s really playing here, you or him?
rating: 18+
genre: smut, PWP ig lmao, carwash!au, frat!au, strangers/enemies to lovers?
word count: 5.5k
warnings: dirty talk, use of lube (yes, normalize this), hand kink, size kink, protected/unprotected sex, rough sex, outdoor car sex (at the back of her pick up truck), dom/sub/switch undertones, soap/breast play, brief tit slapping and oral (m.), pussy slapping, riding, finger sucking, handjob, fingering, spanking, orgasm denial/delay (we back), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, brief voyeurism, Tae really loves tits and he fucks reader with his jacket on her ;).
a/n: surprise mfers, this is my first Tae fic here and a PWP of him (acts surprised). this simple sexy banner is made by my marsy @joheunsaram​ who started this Hot Summer Boy collab with six other amazing authors!. i procrastinated as usual so i removed some scenes but idk it's just pure filth so enjoy 😜
Tumblr media
― masterlist — navigation ― wips
Tumblr media
It’s the way he keeps staring at you thinking that you don’t notice him.
The way he averts his eyes away from you shyly when you smirk at him.
Kim Taehyung, Beta Tau Sigma’s good boy.
Or you think he is?
When you first heard the news of their frat’s charity fundraiser, you don’t waste anymore time and immediately pass by their frat house to see the simple car wash set up in their parking lot, with many customers already. Of course, they’re all hot so it’s obvious that people would swarm them at once.
You park your car from a distance across the street so none of them will recognize you of course. Who will think that you’re driving a silver pick up truck when it’s way bigger than you? You just want to, for a change and don’t boys want girls that are different these days? That’s what they always say to you.
You want to find out if Taehyung’s really what he is every time you interact with him. The shy and quiet type that is usually your type, well not really but sometimes you love training them, boosting their confidence until they establish themselves on their own. It makes you proud, how it’s because of you. 
It’s early afternoon when you decide to finally visit their car wash to hopefully woo any of them as what your sorority sisters instructed even if you already told them that you have your pick a long time ago.
You open the door of your pickup truck, slowly coming down from it’s steps and you can already feel their eyes on you. Who wouldn’t look? Aside from your car, you’re wearing this denim shorts that’s almost showing half your ass paired with this loose fishnet top, your bright coloured sports bra on the view.
Taehyung’s heart was already racing the moment he saw your car earlier. He knows it’s you because he always notices how you just pass by sometimes, smirking at him through your window and though his friends keep teasing him how you’re so into him, he won’t falter.
For now.
He pretends to not see you when you’re walking towards him while saying hi to his fratmates, busying himself with pulling the hose and arranging the buckets around.
“Hi Tae~” you smile sweetly at him and his friends whistle at that.
You’ve been calling him that name now, why go on full names when you’ve accustomed to each other and if he didn’t really want you calling him with the cute nickname he should’ve told you off a while ago.
Taehyung tries to ignore you but when you come in front of him, tilting your head while leaning down to watch his expression he can’t help his eyes from looking down at your chest.
where your very tempting breasts are.
He unconsciously runs his tongue between his lips, a habit that you notice since the first time you met him. Cute. You smirk when you noticed and give him playful smile.
“You’re not even greeting me? I was hoping you would wash my car” you pout and that brings his eyes back to you.
“I have many customers waiting” he responds softly with his deep voice, gesturing to the many cars that have been waiting for him.
“You really won’t do me?” 
Taehyung blinks at your question because he can clearly hear the double meaning of it even if you said it unintentionally. 
“Yow Taehyung, i can take hers if you want” his frat mate Jimin muses and he tries his best to not give any expression that will give away anything.
You turn to the attractive boy who's offering you his services and would you say no? of course not.
Besides, you're already lowkey upset that Taehyung rejects you again. It’s humiliating since everyone here knows about your fixation on the boy for a while now.
Your sorority sisters keep questioning your pining over Taehyung when you're capable of sleeping with anyone you want.
But you don't want those guys, you want him.
Taehyung sees your face fall for a bit before you walk away from him to Jimin. He shouldn't feel guilty because he does have a lot of clients waiting already but he still does.
The next time you visit, you made sure that his other frat brothers aren't there so you can finally bring your plan into action.
Today, you're wearing even shorter shorts from last time and a plain shirt without a bra underneath. You were in a hurry so you just grabbed the first pair of clothing that you can find, not like you care anyways. You're still upset that Taehyung didn't even give you the reaction you were hoping for last time when you dressed up.
Taehyung is annoyed at being in charge of cleaning up the entire car wash set up on their last day while the rest of his fraters are out eating lunch just because he refused to clean your car days ago. He’s momentarily distracted after hearing a car engine stopping by, turning around to see you again with a pretty scowl on your face.
You're already not in the mood after seeing his frustrated expression so you turn around to go back to your car but a gasp comes out from your mouth when you feel the cold water seeping on your shirt. You turn to him and see that he’s a bit drenched too but not as soaked as you.
"I already got your rejection last week, no need to remind me" you deadpan as you roll your eyes but you raise your eyebrow when he doesn't answer you.
He didn’t mean it, it was an accident but he can already see the growing annoyance in your eyes. He’s just taken aback at you coincidentally coming here when he’s obviously alone. Did you plan this? 
Taehyung gulps while looking at your outlined breasts, your wet shirt making your perk nipples very visible. His frustration seems to vanish the moment he sees them and he slips into his own world that he doesn't notice you walking towards him and grabs his unoccupied hand to your chest.
You smirk as you put your hand on top of his and squeeze one of your tits, the firm touch from his hand making you hiss out loud.
It’s embarrassing how quickly he can make you release those sounds, you're better than this and you were gonna pull back when Taehyung's hand squeezes it again but harder this time, causing you to whimper when he flicks his index finger on your perched nipple.
"i'm sorry.." he whispers and that snaps you out of your trance to look at his captivated eyes that never shifted from staring at your tits.
You remember what he did last time so you bat his hand away from your chest and step back, earning a whine from him when you scoff.
"For what exactly? You only apologize when you finally get to touch my tits that you've been eyeing since day one" you bark and you see his eyes widen even further as he looks back at you.
“I didn’t mean to reject your car i swear, i can wash it now if you want” he reasons quietly while still staring at your tits and you scoff, walking even closer to him than before. 
“Sure, but i was still embarrassed in front of everyone so how are you going to say sorry huh?” you taunt and see the guilt swimming in his eyes.
For a second, you feel bad for being too harsh on him, that is until his hand grabs your waist, resulting in you colliding with his toned chest.
You try looking up at him but you see him staring at your cleavage already, you would’ve thought he’s adorable while getting lost in them but arousal pools on your core when you see his tongue out on his lips again.
"..wanna see" he whines,
And who are you to deny him? 
Seems like this is how he’s going to say sorry so you smile flirtily at Taehyung before pulling the hem of your shirt up to finally expose your breasts to him.
Taehyung’s eyes widened at your bold move, he didn’t think that you’ll actually do it out here in the open but then again, he’s heard of you around so he knows how freaky you could be.
He's still staring at you so you opt to grab his hand and pull him towards your pick up truck, climbing up at the back and you grin back at Taehyung when he follows you.
You instructed him to sit down and lean back on the sides while you strip down the rest of your clothing and hang them on the sides, leaving you fully naked under the heat of the sun that makes Taehyung feel like he’s been hypnotized.
god he looks so hot with his denim shorts bunched up so you can clearly see his legs, finally. it’s a rare sight because he usually wears bottoms that cover them so you’re absolutely smitten right now.
Taehyung breaks away from his trance when he sees you straddling his lap. You don’t do anything but stare at him so he’s quite confused. He tests his theory of what you want when he raises his hands to hold the sides of your breast.
You gasp when Taehyung starts circling his thumbs on your nipples, his eyes are still observing every expression that you make. One of your hands that are on his neck moves to his fluffy, dark hair to move his bangs away from covering his defined eyebrows that you love.
Taehyung surprises you when his head suddenly drops down your chest, you can feel his breath against your skin and you would’ve grab his hair until he suddenly pecks one tit before he bites your nipple.
“so y/n, i’m a good actor aren’t i?” his deep voice startles you and you can feel his lips quirk against the curve of your breast as soon as he releases you. You’re still stunned so you don’t answer him but he tweaks your other nipple so you reply at once.
“you have favourites, gotta make sure i catch your attention too” he winks before hoisting you up.
Taehyung leaves you to get down from the truck and you’re curious of what he’s searching for. You’re still thinking at what he said about favourites, did he specially acted like a good boy so you would notice him?
He comes back with a large bone-shaped sponge that’s clearly used for washing cars.
"Tae–what are you doing?" you look at him in confusion and he sees the disgust on your face while eyeing the sponge he’s holding.
“Chill, this is a new one. You really think I would use some dirty sponge on these beautiful tits?” you clench at his words and he seems to notice it when his eyes travel down to your bare pussy.
“Did you just clench? Fuck, you’re such a dirty girl” he chuckles and reaches out to slap one of your breast and you moan.
“Tae please” you whine, biting your lower lip and start crawling to him but he stops you.
“Don’t move” he orders and you sit back down above your legs, waiting for him like a good girl.
Taehyung places the bottles that he’s been holding on his other hand on the back seat floor, a bottle of liquid soap and lube.
Your insides thrum in excitement at what he's planning to do. You still can't believe how this boy turned from good boy to this demon who's smirking at you right now.
"Taehyung" you whimper impatiently and rub both of your arms.
The sun's harsh rays are making your skin itchy with how hot they are plus you're literally fully naked at the back of your pickup truck. You see him taking off his light jacket and you smile genuinely when he places it around you.
"to protect your skin" he replies nonchalantly but you beam regardless since the gesture is sweet.
Taehyung doesn’t bother taking his shirt off because it’s soaked already, he just pulled down his now heavy denim shorts after retrieving a foil packet from his pocket. 
Your eyes widen after seeing the size of his dick, it’s very swollen with the tip so red when it slaps against his white shirt. He starts stroking it for a bit while looking playfully at you before tearing up the condom packaging.
You immediately rush to him, kneeling in front of his dick as you grab it and start stroking down, surprising Taehyung at your eagerness that he almost drops what he’s holding.
He groans at the sight of you only wearing his jacket while jerking him off. He notices you staring at his hands and he smirks, moving the tips of his fingers to trace on your lips before urging your mouth to open so he can shove them inside.
You swallow his fingers like how you would swallow his dick and Taehyung curses when your other hand fastens its pace on stroking him.
"you love my fingers?" he rasps while thrusting his hips into your tight fist. 
"mhmm" you moan around his fingers and look up to him, watching him getting lost to his own pleasure.
He’s close.
So you start caressing his wrist, your index finger then tracing the little bone on it while tugging on his thin bracelets.
"fuckfuckfuck, you're a sin, you're a fucking sin" he moans as he fucks your hand relentlessly in sync with your hand. If it isn’t for his occupied hand, he would’ve grabbed your head to suck him off.
You let go of his fingers just in time of his release, leaning your body backwards so the spurts of his cum land directly on your breasts.
“Shit!...damn…” he rasps after looking down at you, seeing you being mesmerized at the sight of him, that your mouth is gaping even when your hand is still milking his dick.
“You came a lot Tae” you whisper in wonder and look down at your tits that are coated with his cum.
“Let’s get you clean up” he sighs with content and gets off the truck to pick up the hose from earlier.
Taehyung climbs back up after turning the water on on low volume, picking up the liquid soap from the floor mat before motioning you to move back and lean on the back window of your pickup truck.
You look up at him innocently but yelp after he sprays the hose on your tits, sighing at the cold water hitting your scorched skin.
"Thanks" you smile and sit up so you can stand but Taehyung stops you.
"I'm not done with you yet" he states, his voice turns deeper than it already is and you raise your brow at him.
Taehyung doesn't wait for you to reply and opens the soap bottle before pouring it on your chest. You let out a shiver at the cold, sticky feeling but you moan right after when you feel a slightly rough material brushing your nipples.
You open your eyes to see Taehyung focusing on rubbing the liquid soap around your tits, sticking his tongue out in concentration and you’re getting frustrated because you want more.
“Taehyung~” you whimper when he circles the sponge on your stiffened buds, grabbing his wrist to push the sponge more to your tits.
“What? Not enough still?” he chuckles and grabs the hose, spraying the water on your chest to wash off the bubbles surrounding them before throwing away the hose and latches his mouth on one of your tits.
You instantly grab his soft, fluffy brown hair but you realize the flowing water on the truck floor so you pull his hair up and turn your head sideways to let him know.
Taehyung just groans and turns to turn it off, mumbling about the water fee and something about saving water. He looks cute while pouting so you grab his shirt and press your lips on him, you did it out of impulse and you are hesitating now when he freezes on the spot. 
You start to move away but Taehyung instantly grabs your neck and opens his mouth to kiss you fully. You close your eyes and let him deepen the kiss when he asks for entrance, pulling him closer to you that your naked chest collides with his clothed one, making you yelp at the contact.
At this, Taehyung descends his kisses to your jaw unto your neck, his other hand that's holding the sponge earlier is now squeezing your other breast. You moan when he tweaks it, pulling his hair harder that earned a groan from him.
"Taehyung...want–" you gasp between heavy breaths when his other hand that was holding your neck is now kneading your other breast.
"hmm? want me to fuck you?" he hums against your wet skin and you nod vigorously, not caring of looking desperate for his cock.
He releases you and stands up to sit back on the other edge of the floor, his back leaning on the tailgate. You watch him pull the foil packaging from earlier out of his breast pocket and tear the edge with his mouth while pumping his very hard dick, finally putting on the condom that you disrupted before.
Taehyung motions you to come to him and he bites his lips when you start crawling to him with those innocent eyes of yours that he knows are fake when he sees the playful smirk on your pretty face.
“Like what you see Taetae?” you muse with that alluring voice of yours, emphasizing your words with extra sways of your hips and you chuckle when you see his eyes follow it’s directions while biting his lips even more.
You yelp when he suddenly grasp you, his eyes switching from being mesmerized to being predatory.
“Very much, now ride me” he demands, voice husky that lulls you in positioning yourself on his lap.
He grabs the other bottle and opens it, pouring a small amount of liquid on his fingers 
"it's waterproof and silicone based" he winks at your perplexed reaction.
"you planned all of this?" you ask with wonder.
"fucking you? of course, been craving this pussy since day one" he smirks at you and moves his lube covered fingers to your core. 
You hiss at the cold contact before moaning instantly when Taehyung starts rubbing your clit before tracing your folds slowly.
"Tae don't tease please" you whine when his fingers don't do further, only rubbing your clit faster and then slow down when tracing your core.
"But you teased me for so long, you can't even wait?" he tsks and you lower your head in embarrassment.
"this one's different-ohhh" you meekly reply before moaning when he suddenly plunges his long fingers into you.
"hear that? your pussy's fucking wet for me already" he mocks and your cheeks warm at his lewd words and the squelching noises 
You whine as you toss your head back and start grinding on his fingers. It's not long when he hits that soft spot inside of you that you can't help but look down into his brown eyes.
Gone is the shy boy you keep teasing and chasing for months. This is someone else, not the Taehyung that you know and honestly this just added to your fascination with the gorgeous frat boy.
Taehyung holds your waist to assist you as you grab his swollen dick towards your soaked pussy. You look down at his sheer size, though nervous you're still anticipating the stretch.
You grab his shoulders firmly as you slowly slide down on his dick, hissing and whimpering even only with the initial stretch.
"b-big..Tae.." you whimper and close your eyes, you're not even halfway yet and you already feel so full of him.
"yeah? fuck you're so tight–"he groans after, burying his face to your breast while breathing heavily. You're gripping him so tight he isn't sure if he can move.
"i d-don't think it w-will fit" you cry in frustration while digging your nails on his shoulders, making him hiss at the slight pain through his shirt.
"it will, come on your pretty pussy can take it" he smugly whispers and grips your waist, pulling you even closer to him that makes you slide deeper into him.
Taehyung grits his teeth when he bottoms out, your warm walls are turning his thoughts into only focusing on you. You’re taking over his mind and he doesn’t think that he’ll stop anytime soon.
You’re hugging Taehyung now, your hands that were previously on his shoulders move to grasp his neck as you start bouncing slowly on him. He kisses your neck to distract you from the slight discomfort from adjusting to his size. He should’ve used more lube but he got so distracted by your naked body on his lap that all he can think of is fucking you.
It doesn’t hurt thanks to the lube but your pussy’s still not used to his girth. No doubt he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and you grin at the thought that after so many months, you’re finally having this dick that you’ve been craving for.
One of Taehyung’s hands leaves your hips to grab your tits, pinching the curve of your breast to tease you again so you lean back to give him leeway to let him do his favourite thing to do.
Playing with your tits.
His large hands that were squeezing the sponges earlier are now squeezing your tits instead and you smile cheekily at the delicious feeling of his hands, arching your back more to him.
“Pretty..fuck–so pretty” he chants mindlessly and begins fucking up into you, immediately hitting the bundles of nerves inside you, making you scream.
"fuck, you look so pretty wearing my jacket while i'm fucking you"
You keep clenching on each of his words, his deep voice groaning beside your ear and it’s pushing you to your release. As if on cue Taehyung grips your hips tightly, pausing your pace and you look at him in disbelief but you only see mischief in his eyes.
Does he want you to beg or is he waiting for something else?
“T-taehyung?..” your shaky plea sounded like a whisper because you’re still dazed from your hindered release.
“Get up, i wanna go deeper” he states hurriedly, standing up at once to get off from the car.
You’re still in confusion but you follow him regardless, not caring how you both could’ve been seen in your public indecency all this time.
Deeper? He’s already reaching you deeply with that angle and then it struck you.
He wants more control.
Taehyung grabs you as soon as your feet to the ground, his tense touches making you realize that he’s also close. You turn your back at him to hold the railing of the tailgate and bend yourself towards him, sticking your ass out as much as possible.
You yelp suddenly when you feel his hands land on your left butt cheek, while his other hand is moving the hem of the jacket further up to reveal your full ass on him.
“So’re always spoiled hmm? Always getting what she wants..” he mocks you again and you just whimper in return, too frustrated and you may say something that’ll make him punish you after.
He sure can punish you all he wants but you need to cum first.
He continues to tease, ignoring your whimper and just runs his hands from your ass through your sides.
You would've been touched at his caressing but you're too impatient right now.
"Taehyung—" you whine and smack the edge of the tailgate, a little annoyed at his teasing.
He chuckles behind you and lines himself up but before he can, you reach behind to stop him. 
"Off, Taehyung" you whisper and a surprise expression etches on Taehyung's face.
Taehyung thinks he’s hearing things but you tug his forearm again when he doesn’t move.
"fuck me raw"
"Yeah? want my bare cock on this tight pussy?”
"y-yes please, please"
You don't care if he teases you after this, or if he's gonna tell his brothers how you crumble under his hands this fast.
Reputation be damned, you want his dick.
Taehyung removes the condom as you needily requested and lines himself up, slamming his hips into you.
"Shit—it's like you became tighter, fuck"
You actually scream when he enters you which has never happened to any fucks that you had before. 
Taehyung doesn't move immediately, he's shuddering a little because of the warm sensation of your bare walls around him. He doesn't think he can fuck any pussy with condom now if it's this good.
You thought you're going to be used to it but no, the slight discomfort is still there but you're glad that the raw feeling of him takes over, distracting you from it.
He can't wait anymore, and he might cum inside of you if he doesn't start moving so he does.
"Tae—fuck!" you moan loudly when he instantly fastens his pace, his grip on your hips tightening
You hear him curse when you clench around him, you aren't teasing though, you're just so close already like he does.
"Deep..fuck—so good" you ramble and moan his name repeatedly, trying your best to grip the edge of the tailgate since it's slippery with your wet hands.
"I'm so fucking close—shit y/n" 
"same, Taetae—ugh" 
You drop your head down as you mewl when he starts hitting that spot inside you repeatedly. He really knows what he’s doing.You figure he was just teasing before to prolong this since you're both close already.
Everything is wet and Taehyung's losing his mind. He doesn't even care how the sun's scorching you both, he's only focus is on fucking you, finally fucking you.
Your moaning must've been very loud because you hear a whistle above you, making Taehyung pause in his thrusts.
"i'm usually a deep sleeper but damn i wouldn't mind waking up to this"
The melodious voice is familiar to you because he was the one who saved you from Taehyung's rejection last week.
"Fuck off Chim, go back to sleep"
"Nah, i rather watch, this seems more interesting than the dream i just had"
You keep clenching after hearing Jimin saying the word "watch" but he says it in a shaky voice, making you realize it’s just a facade. Poor boy, you have other plans though.
"you like it?" Taehyung whispers and you couldn't almost hear him because of the excitement stirring inside you.
Taehyung clenches his jaw when you only answer by squeezing your pussy more so he slaps your cheeks again, prompting you to answer with a whine.
You turn your head backwards and look up to Jimin who's still frozen from catching you both from the window of his room on the 2nd floor. You grin playfully after and start grinding back to Taehyung's cock, winking at Jimin when you notice him getting flustered, his face reddening and mouth gaping at the sight.
But Taehyung suddenly grips your hips tightly, he must've recovered from the sight of you fucking yourself on his dick. You whine because of it, frustrated that he's pausing your movements when you're so close already but then he snaps his hips way harder than before, making you scream again in pleasure.
"you like him watching me wreck your pussy?"
“y-yes, fuck–”
Taehyung looks back up at Jimin, giving his best friend a finger and the boy finally closes his windows with frantic eyes, probably putting headphones on now to not hear any more noises that will traumatize him more.
You chuckle after hearing the loud sound of the window closing, you didn’t mean to scare Jimin off but those types of boys are your usual favourites well, until now.
Taehyung snaps his hips harder but he notices how you’re struggling on holding on the tailgate so he stops his hips, earning another whimper from you.
You’re not sure how long you can take Taehyung’s teasing but you sigh in relief when you see him unlocking the tailgate to bring it down, yelping when he lifts your right leg to prop on it and enters you again.
It seems like he reaches you way deeper with the new angle, hitting your spot nonstop and it doesn't take long until you reach your peak with a whiny scream. 
Taehyung moans loudly because of your throbbing walls and as much as he wants to come inside you, you're not saying anything so he pulls out and shoots his cum on your ass cheeks instead.
You cry at the empty feeling, shuddering at the warm and sticky liquid against your skin. Just as you're turning your head back to him, you feel the sudden blast of cold water on your ass, glaring back at Taehyung while he's cleaning you up.
“what?” he breathlessly chuckles as he drops the water hose to the ground. 
“you didn’t cum inside me” you pout with a whine, facing him with your naked body that’s still under his light jacket and Taehyung’s dick twitches.
"why didn't you say so?" he breathes out, eyes staring at your swollen tits that are currently being squeezed by your arms around your chest.
You don’t answer him because you know he’s teasing you so you turn back to lift back the tailgate back and lock the sides before letting out a surprise yelp after Taehyung cages you 
"i'll fuck your tits later" he rasps behind your ear as he releases your breasts from his hold.
Taehyung's just kidding, he knows you're really just in a daze so he doesn't want to take advantage of that. You both have fucked enough outside that the neighbouring houses know what happened, not that he minds. He’ll fuck you anywhere you want, he adventurous anyways.
“Here’s your jac-”
“You can dry up inside” he cuts you off with the offer and one of your brows raises.
"Really? Okay.." 
No harm in entering their frat house right?
You both enter the house but you suddenly hear the noises of cars and some voices coming nearer after you shut the door. Taehyung figures out that they’re from his frat brothers coming home so he grabs your arm immediately, dragging you towards his room and locks the door just in time the others entered the house.
Taehyung gives you a plain shirt and a towel after you take off his light cream jacket, drying your naked body and putting on the shirt.
You just stand awkwardly after, eyeing the locked door when you hear their voices passed by. Taehyung is just staring at you fondly, you look cute when you’re like this but he likes your bossy vibe more, it's what made him whip for you but he'll never tell you that for sure.
“i’ll clean up outside and put your clothes in the dryer, ‘mkay?” 
Now this is the Taehyung that you knew, not the one who fucked you ruthlessly earlier. He smiles at you and you did return his smile with a shy one.
“do you wanna nap while waiting?
This isn’t really part of the plan but napping isn't that bad, especially with how he fucked you earlier. You’re honestly exhausted so you nod at him and sit on the bed.
The booming bass from downstairs wakes you up from your sleep and you instantly squint your eyes around the dim-lit room you’re in. You feel the arm around your waist move, pulling your body towards the owner’s body.
You turn to look at Taehyung already smiling at you, his bread cheeks lighting up the room making you smile in return. Lifting the blanket you intend to get up but Taehyung’s hold tightens on you.
"stay y/n" he whispers and you refuse to look back at him.
"Tae, you know i never sta-"
"i don't care, stay" he cuts you off sternly, getting up from the bed now and you hate how he doesn’t have his shirt on because it made you turn to face him.
“your frat’s having a party-”
You’re trying to only stare at his face but his fit torso plus the small light illuminating his tanned skin so your eyes naturally scan his body which of course he notices.
Taehyung pulls you into him, causing you to grasp his shoulders and land the side of your arm against his firm pecs. His hand that’s holding your waist lifts the hem of his shirt that you’re wearing while his other hand starts kneading your ass.
"i'll fuck you all night if you stay" he whispers on your ear and you squirm.
A tempting offer but you need more, you heard that a lot already.
"i'll be your good boy, hmmm?" he rasps before biting your earlobe and begins leaving kisses along your neck.
To say you’re surprised at what he said is an understatement, he really is an observant one.
"i'll let you do what you want to me" he blows air on your skin and his left hand slaps your pussy, making you clench reflexively.
"Fuck you Taehyung" you hiss as a final attempt but you know he already won when you feel your wetness gushes out of your core, causing Taehyung to smile against your skin as he starts rubbing your folds.
"you will be fucked a lot, i’m not letting you go anytime soon"
Tumblr media
767 notes · View notes
kithtaehyung · 3 months ago
the ex not missed (m) | ksj
Tumblr media
❄ title: the ex not missed (m)  ❄ pairing: seokjin x reader(f) ❄ genre/rating: 18+ ; angst, humor, fluff, smut ; romcom ; holiday au, strangers to lovers au, fake dating au ❄ word count: 26.9k!! ❄ synopsis: everything was going according to plan: the promotion landed in your lap, your boyfriend was taking you on a dinner date, and you already had a fancy lodge booked to celebrate the proposal you assumed was coming. except the so-called proposal was a breakup, there were extreme cancellation fees for the resort, and your boss wouldn’t let you work because you hadn’t taken a break in months. at least that gave you an excuse to mope in solitude for a week… because nothing else could go wrong, right? (lightly based on christmas getaway (2017)) ❄ warnings: bad holiday puns and jokes (including the title), explicit language, alcohol, embarrassing moments lol, angst, post-breakup talks, dom!jin, switch!reader, fingering, penetration, seokjin is so considerate and attentive i’m sick, breast play, denied orgasms, light slapping, protective sex, slight choking, crying, oral (m/f rec), did i mention horrible holiday jokes?  ❄ publish date: july 17th, 8pm EST ❄ notes: this is a gift for the hoeliday well spent package of the christmas in july collab hosted by @kookdiaries, @kithtaehyung, and @xiaokoo! the holidays are rolling in a little bit early, so i hope you’re ready to settle down with a warm throw and a comforting mug. thank you endlessly to @kookdiaries​ for the banner and dividers for us all<3 also, this is broken up into days, so you can use them as chapters and go back to them if you need to! ❄ taglist: listed under the cut!
Sender: Rocky Mountain Lodges
Subject: Your Yuletide Getaway is Just Around the Corner! 
Sender: Rocky Mountain Lodges 
Subject: Confirm When Your Sleigh Arrives! 
Sender: Rocky Mountain Lodges 
Subject: [Inquiry Response] Cancellation Fees Enclosed 
Sender: Rocky Mountain Lodges 
Subject: Holi-Date Confirmed! See You Soon!
Tumblr media
DAY 1 
Snow drifts down from the dark and coats winding paths in a soft layer of white. Streetlights wrapped in garlands flood the cobblestones in incandescence, and the smells of cinnamon and fried apples swirl around your hair. 
And you would have appreciated the whimsical scenery had you not been collapsed on the ground and clutching your hip in pain.
An abrupt sigh escapes your lips. You already knew the entire trip was going to be pointless, just like everything you had worked for up until this point in your life. But does it really have to be so violent, too? Why can’t you seem to catch a break? 
Wincing, you take note of your fallen suitcase, the sturdy red shell seemingly in better condition than you are. At least its contents didn’t spill out when you fell—one thing that went right out of twenty-five and counting. 
You don’t purposefully recall the slew of shitty events that occured in the last twenty-four hours, but your mind can’t help but default to the negatives when you’re thrumming with agony. Raising a gloved hand to your face, you rub it and hiss—it is definitely scraped underneath the material. 
Did everything really start with the break-up that happened last month? Or did the chain of unfortunate and uncalled for events begin way before then? In any case, you don’t have a clear answer and, being the person you shaped yourself to be, not having an answer violently shakes your bones. 
Among other things, you’re also thorough, so you remember everything while succumbing to the cold blow of wind slamming into your back. 
For starters, you got broken up with when you thought you were being proposed to—that alone deserved its own plaque and diatribe on your personal wall of shame. But the universe decided that you needed further punishment, so you weren’t allowed to retract your vacation time at work, no one you asked would go with you, you woke up late for your flight, the plane had turbulence every five minutes, and a shaky landing was the cherry on top of that cake.
You shudder from the chill. Maybe this is karma for having a life that’s gone completely according to plan. 
Boots scrape the ground as you bend your legs, further recollection making your head sag between your knees. 
Your coat got caught in a taxi door, you almost missed the train and had to run the whole way, a stranger spilled some choice stew on you, there was a line at the lodge so you had to wait in front of a loud man and behind a couple sucking lips, and when you finally got your keys, you made your way to your cabin and slipped on the pavement, bruising your hip and the palm of your hand. 
Which brings you to where you are now: loveless, flat on your ass on a freezing couples resort sidewalk, and contemplating what the hell you did to deserve it.
You can’t even bring your battered and bruised soul to cry. 
With every bone in your body sagging with defeat, you lug your injured self from the pavement, grunting when a sharp pain ignites in your side. Because of course you have to keep being reminded that the universe isn’t done with you. 
After you bend to retrieve your suitcase—not without a groan that’s comparable to an old man’s outcry—you limp the rest of the way to your assigned cabin. 
A cabin that you have all to yourself for a week. 
At a couples resort.
The plan moving forward is simple. On arrival, you will use up the entire lodge’s hot water supply, retreat to a mediocre bed, and flip on shitty holiday movies. 
Because nothing else can possibly happen once you shut yourself inside.
Something goes right for once when the shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash are all nicely scented and the shower pressure just as perfect. You hum as steam envelopes your wet skin, water and stress flowing into the drain underneath your tired feet. When you rub soap into your scratched palm, you hiss in annoyance, vowing to do nothing except sleep when you towel dry.
Suddenly, a loud bang makes you freeze. 
A door just closed. 
What the fuck? 
Which otherworldly being did you piss off? Nemesis? Because they are hellbent on revenge! 
Your soap bar threatens to shoot out of your grip as you run through ideas and escape plans and scenarios in your mind. Turning off the shower isn’t going to do anything; you know whomever just came into the cabin heard it running. After all, you left the bathroom door open. Why? Simple. You have the place to yourself! 
You panic and turn off the shower anyway, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your shaking form. Darting your eyes around the bathroom, you grab the first thing that you deem worthy of a weapon: an empty, red vase in the shape of a coniferous tree.  
Sneaking out, you tiptoe through your bedroom, peeking out to survey the long hallway ahead. Water slides down your tendrils like raindrops, but you pay no attention because you spot the intruder right away. 
It’s a man. 
A very tall man.  
Hell no. Anything could happen to you, but being jumped by a stranger in a private cabin is not going to be one of them. Psyching yourself up, you heave and grip the vase tight, rationalizing your next actions by knowing that surprise would beat size. 
Transforming into a ball of fury, you tear your feet from the carpet and run down the hallway, screaming like a banshee from adrenaline and waving your vase like a sword.
And the stranger reacts immediately. Loudly. Wildly. You almost stop at how shrill they yell, and they trip before backpedaling away from you. Unrelenting, you chase the intruder into the living room while screaming for him to get out of your cabin.
“Wait! Stop!” 
“Get out!” 
The tall stranger rounds one of the chairs as a makeshift shield. “This is my cabin!” 
Both of you erupt into a stilted dance around the rustic furniture, his head ducking spastically as if you’re going to chuck the vase at him. Frankly, that’s a great idea. 
“I’m serious!” 
“You’re just a perv!” When you run to your left, he shifts to his; when you bolt around the couch, he scurries to the opposite end. 
“No, no, stop! I’m not a— I booked this cabin!” 
“I was the one that booked it!” 
“But my key worked! My packet’s on the table!” 
You stop mid-motion, your arm cocked back and ready to fling the vase at his bespectacled, masked face. 
Wait. Even with half his features covered, you can still tell that the guy is handsome. You take quick note of his clothes, too, recognizing brands that you know you can’t afford.
What the hell? 
“Stay right there,” you order as you back up toward the table, slow. You can’t believe your predicament, hair frazzled and wet and chasing a stranger around a living room that is supposed to be yours and yours alone. The towel wrapped under your armpits is completely drenched, the tile cold and slippery under your feet. 
When you feel your back bump into a chair, you slightly turn your head, flashing it back to the man and holding the vase out before looking at the table. 
There’s a packet similar to yours flopped onto the wooden surface, and glancing at one after the other, you furrow your brows. 
Both have the same cabin number. 
When you rove your eyes over the keys, they also have the same golden number etched into their keychains, one more faded than the other. Voice low, you curse, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“Do you believe me now?”
You swivel your head back to the stranger, glaring and noticing that the man didn’t move from his spot behind a couch arm. Your arm feels sore from holding up the vase, but you give it a warning shake anyway. “I’m gonna fix this,” you pledge, boiling to the brim with anger and frustration, “So don’t unpack. I’m going down to the main lodge and demanding that they kick you out.” 
The man jolts into action, circling around the couch and coming toward you. “You can’t do that! I paid!” he warns, and you scoff while snapping back into focus. 
“I damn sure can. Don’t move from that spot!” 
When you turn to head back to your room to change, something occurs that has time bending and slowing down. 
Your towel. 
Had gotten stuck.
In the intricate chair design.
The entire thing rips from your body in one swoop. Immediately, you gasp, letting go of the vase completely. 
“Whoa, wa— don’t move!” 
It’s too late to cover your naked self and much too late to catch the vase. Shards scatter about the tiling, nicking your ankles and pinging off wooden legs. Damp, your dropped towel is completely covered in glass, which leaves you with no choice of covering other than your shivering, trembling arms. 
Shit. No no no. 
Hot embarrassment coats your throat, and you can’t help but choke on a sob and squeeze your eyes shut. You’re naked. You’re not alone. You’re humiliated. “Please don’t look,” you beg, your ire and fury gone in one fell swoop and leaving you so, so unguarded. 
Anything can happen now. You can run away but your feet will cut on the glass. The door is at the end of a long hallway but you think you’re pretty fast when you need to be. 
But despite everything and despite your many alternate plans, all you get in response is a soft, reassuring,
“I’m not.” 
When your eyes open, you peek at the man and feel a rush of relief seeing a forearm thrown across his eyes. 
“Hold on and don’t move or you’ll cut yourself.” 
You watch as he spins around, scanning the living room before walking over to retrieve a thick blanket from the back of a side chair. How did he notice that? You didn’t even see a blanket when you were hunting him down. 
Cold air isn’t the only thing that makes you shudder. 
From your spot amongst the broken glass, you command him to not sneak a peek, though you strangely already know he won’t.
“What do you take me for?” 
“I told you: you’re a pervert.” 
“I am not!” 
When he turns, he levels that same arm over his face while making his way over to you, trying to avoid the glass before extending the material in offering. 
Immediately, you yank it, twirling the blanket around your form and clutching it tight. The red glass remains in a million pieces at your feet, so you have no choice but to stand in awkward silence. 
“There should be a broom in here, too,” the guy blurts after a beat, and you nod before realizing he can’t see you. 
“I’m covered now. And pantry.” 
After revealing his face, the man looks at you funny and you have to squash the voice in your head that admits that he is handsome as hell. You know you can look decent with a black mask on yourself, but him? You find yourself secretly wishing that he would take it off. 
“Mm, probably in the coat closet.” His voice isn’t too bad, either. 
“You sure?” 
“Definitely closet.” 
“Definitely pantr—” 
“Oh, look, a coat closet! Right down the hall.” 
You purse your lips in annoyance when his boots clunk around the tiny kitchen island to avoid the glass splatter, and when he rounds it to come back to you he makes his way to the hallway on your side. Eyes rolling heavenward, you wait as you hear the squeak of a door opening—and smirk when it shuts a little too hard. 
“Did you find it?” 
“Looks like we don’t have a broom.” 
“Oh, shut up and check the pantry.” You point to the opposite end of the kitchen towards the door by the fridge. “Also, there’s no ‘we.’ You’re leaving soon.”  
When he makes his way there, you roam your eyes across the expanse of his back. With a puffy jacket on, you can definitely tell how broad his shoulders are, and you cast your look away when you feel the pinprick of attraction behind your eyes. 
He may be handsome and considerate but you do not need anyone else occupying this cabin with you.
You watch as the man gingerly makes his way around the glass-mottled tile. When he opens the door, the slight pause indicates your tiny victory, but it is his nose scrunch that has you fighting back a smile. Wrapped in a scratchy blanket and naked underneath, you should be feeling uncomfortable in his presence. 
“I’m right, aren’t I?” 
“Lucky guess.” 
So why do you not feel too bad? 
Even when he approaches your swaddled form, wordless and with purpose, you can’t find any outright negative feelings in yourself. Should this scare you? Should you be alarmed? 
Tiny clinks skip around the kitchen floor, mingling with the sweep of the broom as he carefully clears the tile. Red shards slowly pool in the dustpan he carries in one hand and, as you silently watch him, you admit that his looks are growing on you. 
The first thing you really notice are his glasses—round, thin, and a bit too big for his face. But that’s probably why you’re partly disarmed, you muse. Something about them dwarfing his features makes him softer, more delicate, though he may not be of the sort. 
Dark bangs fall over his spectacles and tickle the tops of his eyes, but his lips are the ones that snag your gaze next. With the man not running away from you or even paying attention to you, you finally observe him in earnest and his lips are absolutely full. Plush. Inviting. 
All in all, you start to think that he certainly doesn’t seem like a sleaze or a pervert—not that you are going to outright tell him that. In fact, you’re simply wondering why someone like him is even staying in a place like this by himself. 
Shouldn’t he be cozied up somewhere with a family? Or tenderly sweeping the floor around his lover’s ankles instead of yours—a frazzled, high-strung stranger? This is a couples resort, is it not? Where is his other half? You blurt out the question you’ve been wondering, to which the man simply replies with, 
“It’s just me.” 
He continues to sweep around your feet, ignoring the drops of water falling from your hair. “You?” 
You remain unblinking as you pause, finally answering, “Same. Just me.” 
It’s intriguing. The man seems next to unbothered by the situation. As the ruby glass collects in the dust pan, you lose yourself in thought, wondering what would have happened if your ex was the one that was with you. Would he have done any of those things had he witnessed your quick downfall? 
Truthfully, he probably would have just laughed at you for a good five minutes until you chomped his ear off to bring you a towel. It would have been pulling teeth to get him to even find a broom. 
Your curiosity and pity are almost enough to distract you from the pain you feel in your body. Pain that is now flaring up with a vengeance. 
“Hey, you okay?” 
Flinching, you tear your gaze from the floor to see him staring at you, finished with the broom and leaning with it on the small kitchen island. 
How long have you been staring into the void? 
“Yes. I…” What are you supposed to say? You slipped on the pavement twenty paces from your cabin and were rewarded with purplish consequences? You’re horribly single at a couples lodge because the cancellation fees were egregious? Decidedly, you omit the truth. “It’s nothing.”  
The stranger’s reply is immediate. “It’s not nothing. But you don’t have to tell me, so it’s fine.” 
A strange feeling settles into your quaking bones. There isn’t anything else you can think of to say at the moment, so taking one more look at the perfectly fine floor around your feet, you start the slow limp to your bedroom. 
After a few steps, you toss an order over your shoulder, “Don’t unpack. After I put on some clothes, I’m going to the main lodge to sort this out.” 
The stranger sighs behind you, and the squeak of a chair registers in your ears. When you get to the end of the hall and into your room, a man staring at a table, reticent, is the last thing you witness before shutting your creaky door. 
The person in the mirror makes you wince. 
Well, your reflection is the cause of your first reaction. The fact that whomever is out there definitely saw you naked sets the lines in your face even deeper. Roaming your shaking hands across your tender, burning side, you hiss when the softest touch coaxes a sting. 
The whole point of going into the bathroom was to check your feet for any glass—you were not letting that man anywhere near your toes—so you lift your leg to place a foot on your tub. While you inspect your ankles and below for any tiny shards, an epiphany weasels its way into your brain. 
You didn’t thank the guy once. 
Going over everything that just transpired, you realize: he covered his eyes to not see you, got you a blanket to cover your dignity, and swept up the results of your mistakes around your feet. Even after all that, you didn’t say anything other than for him to stay put. 
Did your self-deprecation transform you into an inconsiderate pig, too? 
Sighing, you lug yourself out of your master bath and find some clothes to change into. Gripping a pair of gloves in your hands, you force yourself to consider another option other than going down to the main lodge to fix things. 
But, in the end, your final decision is for the best. This is meant to be a week spent alone where you could wallow in your sorrows with no interruptions. Even though your boyfriend—ex, you remind yourself with a scowl—wasn’t the most considerate, he was still what you had for a couple years. You really did think he was the one you would settle with and your life plans would stay on track. Maybe it’s a sign that you shouldn’t fit love into your future anymore. 
Why did you in the first place anyway? It’s fleeting. Unpredictable. Destructive. You like things in order, in control, as planned. 
Just like you planned for this week to be as mundane and ordinary as possible.
Two slaps of your gloves later, you hmph with finality. 
When you open your bedroom door, you immediately flinch at what greets you: your unwanted roommate is just a few steps away, leaned against the hallway wall.
You wonder if this is something he always does.
“One quick thing before you go down there,” he says pointedly, his masked chin raised a bit.
“I’m not leaving.” 
“Yes, you are,” you correct him, shutting your door behind your rigid back. Arms crossed as much as your thick jacket will allow, you huff, “So deal.” 
Instead of appearing intimidating like you wanted, your appearance has the opposite effect. The masked stranger’s eyes crease at your blobbed form as he explains, “I already called and explained what happened, and they said they’re booked for the night. Overbooked, actually, which would explain this.” His pointer finger waved between your bodies as he clarified the last part. 
“So unless you wanna rock-paper-scissors,” the irritating man continues, “I’m staying.” 
You snort. “I’m not going to decide how my entire week goes based off a dumb recess game.” 
“Dumb? Entire wars have been decided on rock-paper-scissors.” 
“Now you’re just fucking with me.” 
“I mean, it’s possible. Those were just so short that they weren’t worth mentioning in history books.” 
Shaking your head to stop the conversation before it derails any further—and purposefully ignoring his endearing chuckle—you hold up a hand. “In any case, I booked this cabin six months ago.” 
“Well, it let me book it just last month, so…” 
You’re irritated at the fact that it just so happened to line up with the time you checked on the cancellation fees, right after your boyfriend broke up with you. Did you somehow cancel his invitation and not yours? Why would you have done that and not just cancelled everything? 
Flexing your free hand before tightening it into a fist, you turn while growling, running everyone over with your sleigh as you make your way to the front door.
Annoyingly, the stranger is on your heels. “Wait, where are you going?” 
“Down to the lodge! This is ridiculous!” 
“Do you have the memory of a goldfish? I said I called and—” 
“I don’t care! I’ll make them find you a shed or nearby hotel to stay in for the night.” 
“A shed? Grinch!” 
Your hand twists the doorknob as you parry, “Well this grinch needs a cave to herself, so I’m kicking you ou—” 
The slightly opened door shuts with a bang, courtesy of the man’s large hand. Startled and wondering what the hell just happened, you widen the space between you and back up against a wall. 
“Oh, shit, sorry!” Frazzled, he rips off his mask, assumedly as a show of innocence that you don’t buy. With a slight lift of your eyebrows, you realize with a start that the man is downright gorgeous. “I didn’t mean to—I’m not—Just wait.” 
Body still tense, you bite out, “Wait for what, perv?” 
“I’m not a… Look,” the man sighs, scratching the top of his head with a middle finger. “Tomorrow, I’ll go, okay? You can throw out my luggage and I won’t say a word. Just let me sleep in an actual bed. Just for tonight. Please?” 
“Why should I?” 
“Because that would be the decent thing to do? Look, I’ve had one hell of a day and even got knocked over at the station, so I missed my train and had to wait in the freezing cold for the next one.” He holds up a hand to show you the results of a fall, and you furrow your brows because they somewhat match yours. “I promise I won’t do anything. I’m not a pervert, or a stalker, or whatever you think I am. I’m just… I’m just tired.” 
Lips pursed in a line, you don’t respond at first, only observing his heaving chest and pleading eyes. Without anything covering his face or his hair, you can finally see him in earnest. Is it the curve of his jawline that has you lowering your guard? Or the tongue darting out to wet his full lips as he awaits your answer? 
Or is it the familiar look in his eyes, the one that you strangely think mirrors one you have in yours? 
Sighing in defeat, you relent, “Fine. Just for tonight.” Arms that you didn’t know were crossed around your body lower to your sides, and a sudden wave of tiredness hits you tenfold. With the frustration that perseveres in your veins, you side-eye the guy before going to your room. “First thing I’m doing after waking up is heading down there, so I hope the sleep is worth it, Mr. Intruder.” 
“It’s Seokjin.” 
You silently wave off his words, knowing that you won’t be needing his name at any point other than who to tell the concierge to boot out of your cabin. 
When your door is almost closed, you hear a quick, “Wait! You didn’t even tell me your name.” 
“You’re right.” When you peek through the door, you drink in the man’s ruffled hair and curious eyes. “I didn’t.”
Multiple hours pass before you finally slip into a fitful sleep.
Tumblr media
Soft light makes you stir, a reminder to shut your curtains all the way for next time. 
When you loll your head to the side, a red 8:03am is the only thing that greets you—not another warm body in your bed, not an expected proposal and engagement, not a concrete future. 
Just you and your digital clock having a staredown. 
It’s definitely a later rise for you, having being used to your circadian rhythm kicking you awake at five o’clock every morning. Going through a quicker version of your routine, you exit your room and immediately get hit with the sounds of holiday music mixed with a subtle smell of breakfast. 
You want to smash whatever speaker is being used.
But whatever Mr. Intruder is cooking, it smells divine. 
Padding into the kitchen, you peek into the room before fully entering, watching the commotion inside and cocking an eyebrow in heavy interest. 
Focused, the guy—something-Jin, you think—busies himself at the stovetop to your left, lightly flipping a piece of bread on a pan and singing as it sizzles. He’s decked out in pajamas as opposed to your full ensemble: plain white tee and soft pants under one of the robes supplied by the cabin. His glasses still adorn his nose, and you fight your smile at the way he pushes them up his face. 
“I hope you’re packed,” you blurt out, amused when Mr. Intruder flinches with a hard grip on his panhandle. The song continues but he definitely stops singing along. 
“Excuse you! Don’t scare a guy when he’s at a stove.” 
“You’re leaving today,” you comment, brushing off his unspoken rule. 
“Are you packed?” 
“I can pack in two minutes,” something-Jin deadpanned. “Breakfast is just too essential to skip.” 
“What happened to ‘you can throw out my luggage and I won’t say a word?’” 
“I recall no such thing, Miss Nameless.” 
“Don’t call me that.” 
“Then tell me your name.” As he slides the crispy toast onto a plate that’s already covered in scrambled eggs, he goes back to singing. 
Only to stop again when you reject him. 
Spinning towards you, robe billowing, the man scoffs, “Then excuse me for trying to address you somehow! You want to be called ‘you’ instead?” 
“Sure,” you respond, dismissive and ignorant of the not one, but two plates being set on the island. 
“Fine. Then I don’t like you, You.” 
As your gaze settles on the plate of food in front of you, you glance up with a look of caution. 
“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mr. Intruder assures before leaning on the island to dig into his share. 
As the old-timey radio on the counter scratches into advertisements, you continue to stare at your forced roommate. 
Watching him eat is extremely calming. Is that supposed to bother you? 
You shake your head before timidly picking up your fork to dive in. While you’re chewing, you knit your brows, wondering how such a plain meal like eggs and toast can be this delicious. Sparing another look at your roommate, you start to also wonder what the hell is up with him and if he’s actually as single as you are. There’s no way he booked a couples lodge just because. 
Instead of asking him about more serious things, you question, “Where’d you learn to cook?”
Something-Jin stops mid-chew, stifling a laugh as he answers, “Eggs and toast? Umm…” Swallowing and causing you just the slightest bit of pain, his words come out slow, “From my mom. When I was five.” 
“Ass.” You huff. “You know what, that’s what I’ll call you from now on.” 
“Won’t be the first time.” 
The rest of your meal passes in silence, and you take your plate to the sink to wash before padding to the living room. Getting your signal, Mr. Intruder clumps up the stairs to the second level that exists as a half-floor above your room. 
As you hear him packing away, you use that time to peer out the sliding door you have downstairs. There’s a tiny porch outside the doors, decorated with a wooden table and two adirondacks, all of which are slowly being buried in white. 
You didn’t realize it was snowing. 
Thumps of boots on stairs reach your ears, and you swing your head to notice your roommate dressed in winter clothes head-to-toe. He even has the same black hat and mask as yesterday. 
“Ready to be kicked out,” he says, the words dripping with sarcasm. 
It’s almost enough to make you feel bad, but you silently pull yourself from the couch and stride into the kitchen before entertaining any second or third thoughts. It’s for the best. You wish this stranger and surprisingly good cook a happy rest of his holiday but you just need time to yourself. 
“Don’t make it sound so sad.” 
“Is it not?” 
You turn to look at him as you cross the tile. “You’ll live.” 
And not watching where you’re going is a mistake. 
Your hip suddenly collides with the island. 
Pain. Agonizing pain shoots to the tips of your fingers and whooshes to the edges of your toes. Like weak paper, you easily fold, yelping and grabbing the counter for balance. The universe proceeds to cackle.
There is a rush at your side, and suddenly something-Jin-why-didn’t-you-pay-attention-to-his-fucking-name is there kneeling, ripping off his hat and pulling down his mask to assess the damage. 
“Lemme see it.” 
You rasp out, “It’s nothing.”
“Enough! Let me see it.”
As you reluctantly listen for once and hike your clothes above your hip, you whimper as you tug your pants low enough for your roommate to assess. Regret and self-loathing and embarrassment clog your throat, pricking the corners of your eyes as you try your damndest to not whine at the sting. But the man in front of you is being so attentive. Why?
As his hands reach out to touch your leg, he pauses. In the softest voice you’ve heard from him yet, he asks, “Can I?” 
You can only nod, and something else causes the swell inside your chest to leak out of your ducts. The only thing you can do is stand there as Jin—you will call him that for now—roams his eyes over your bruise, well purpled after hours. His brows are furrowed in the midst of concern, his lips pushed together with concentration. 
It’s a few tense seconds of silence, crackling. You gulp.
Done with his assessment, the man stands and points toward the living room behind you. “Sit down. We’re not going yet.” 
Dropping back to reality, you scoff, “Why not?”
“Because that’s so purple I would’ve mistaken it for an eggplant emoji tattoo!” 
Seriously? This guy is something else. You don’t know whether to laugh at his statement or groan. 
You decide the latter. “You’re so lame, you know that?”
The insult is completely ignored as he reprimands you with a face that leaves no room for argument. “I’ll be right back. Be good and sit down? Please?”
Despite your sour mood, you appreciate his decisive nature. Almost everyone you’ve dealt with so far, be it work or other areas of life, have been wishy-washy or flaky. Indecisive. Annoying. You might have thought this man’s commanding nature attractive had you been in a different predicament. 
Grumbling gibberish, you limp to the couch, plopping down and wincing when your hip flares up again. The snow outside is piled a little higher than before, and you take stock of the tiny fireplace in the corner of the room next to a quaint television stand. 
Both of them would have been great amenities put to use by now if you hadn’t been thrust into a roommate situation. The scowl that sets into your jaw rivals the upset moose in one of the hallway paintings. When a song insulting the Grinch comes on, you scoff at the irony. 
“Scooch forward.” 
Turning your head, you see Jin holding a bottle in one palm and a tube in the other. A sigh leaves your mouth before you blow out, “I promise I’m fine. Can we just go?”
“No.” Jin goes to kneel in front of you, waving for you to do as he says. 
You oblige, past the point of liking this bossy version of him and deeming him an annoyance. When you’re at the edge of the seat—and closer to the man than should be necessary—you fold your lips in waiting. 
Jin reveals both items at the same time. “Pain meds? Or rubbing ointment? We have ice, too, so if you don’t want either of these, I can get that.” 
“Seriously? I could’ve just opened the screen door and stood out there, you know.”
“And yet you waited for me.” His eyes crinkle in playfulness. “What a mystery.”
“Ugh.” You jut your chin out to the rubbing ointment. “I’ll have that, but I can do it myself.” 
“You thought I was gonna do that? As if!” Jin’s words are gruff, but you can tell he’s just messing with you, so you let them slide. He gets up after handing you the tube and walks to the kitchen to get his hat and glasses from the island. 
While applying the gel to your bruise, you’re already relieved when it starts working, mind whirring so hard that you feel like your ears resemble twin smokestacks. 
From the moment you chased him down with a vase, the dynamic between the both of you has been simply, incredibly one-sided. Jin didn’t need to find you a blanket and wipe the glass from the floor; he didn’t need to make you breakfast; he surely didn’t need to turn pseudo-doctor for you and find multiple options to better your health. 
Seemingly for no reason, too. You certainly don’t deserve anything he’s done. There weren’t any offers made, no deals propositioned between the two of you. He simply did all of those things anyway because he seems like a good person. 
And you have been anything but that. 
Head lowered, you roll the plastic tube in your palms, rethinking the decision you made earlier. You start to say-- 
Nothing. You don’t say anything because there’s a hearty knock on the front door followed by a much too chipper voice for the morning, the festive cheer trying to smush through the wood. “A jolly hello to you! I have a brief message for The Kims!” 
Air leaves you in a rush. You briefly forgot that the lodge is a couples’ resort, therefore used to speaking as if everyone is together. Because why wouldn’t they be? 
Hearing your ex’s last name after awhile causes unrest in your stomach. After you curse under your breath, you tear yourself from the couch—not without a wince—and make your way down the long hallway to the front door. 
Jin’s still in the kitchen as you pass without a glance, but you hear his footsteps follow you the rest of your journey, ignoring all of your weak swats to stay back.
The man at the door is dressed in the most obnoxious holiday colors you’ve ever seen, like he jumped one of Santa’s helpers and stole their uniform. When you open your mouth to tell him to get lost, he bursts, “Why, hello, Missus Kim! I’m here to inform you that the Gingerbread House Competition will be starting in fifteen minutes. Please make your way down to the main lodge and into Conference Room A, and remember: late sleighs don’t get to play!” 
Before you can recover from the atrocious message, your jingling informant is already hopping back down your steps and heading to the next cabin. 
Which leaves you with a look of utter disgust in front of a man that can barely contain himself. 
“That… Was impressive.” 
Spinning while shutting the door with a thump, you question, “How on Earth was that anything but creepy?” 
Jin looks down at you with mirth splashing his face. “I meant it was impressive how you let the elf leave alive.” 
Rolling your eyes, you march past your forced roommate and scorch the hallway with your boots. “Yeah, well. Let me get our packets and then we can head to the front office.” 
“You don’t want to go to the competition?” 
“No. I barely know you, so why would I do something with you?” You’re at the table when he keeps laying on the offence. 
“Do you know everyone’s name on a roller coaster? When you go on a cruise?” 
“Well, no.” 
Jin points a finger at you while smirking. “Exactly. Let’s just go. Who knows what’ll happen!” 
“Forget it.” 
Kicking your head back in a sigh, you regret forgetting about the many activities you had planned while booking the lodge, including the event involving spiced construction pieces. You somehow thought it would be a nice way to build a home before building your own--he was an architect, after all--but now the very idea sounds downright cringey. 
In fact, you booked all the events based around your ex’s likes and preferences. It only seemed logical that he would like them, so you simply chose them and didn’t look back. 
You need to cancel them. Erase them all from your schedule, kick this tall intruder out, and spend the week with your two best friends merlot and cabernet sauvignon.  
“Because I want nothing more than to just stay in here. If you haven’t noticed, there is no Mr. Kim. I’m by myself. Just me.” After snatching the flimsy packets from the table and clunking over to the radio to smack it into silence, you make your way to Jin. “You can’t even get into the events without your partner, so I need to go down to the concierge and cancel them anyways.”  
“It’s just me, too. Remember?” 
Your feet stop a couple paces in front of his expression. You notice his eyes flash with emotion before looking right at your face. “Okay… And?” 
“And now I think I know why they booked me this cabin. My full name is Kim Seokjin, so they must have assumed...” 
Great. Another Kim man to come along and ruin your life. If there is a third one out there, send him in so you can get all the suffering over with. “Oh,” is all you end up saying, the brevity of the situation weighing the lone syllable down. 
“But I get it.” As you stand there, he taps his jeans with two fingers. “Let’s go kick me out.” In a feeble attempt to not make you feel guilty, he flashes a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 
And while you firmly nod and stomp out into the cold, you aren’t quite sure if it worked. 
“I’m sorry... But what the hell? Are these correct?” 
“I’m afraid so, ma’am.” 
Peering down at the many, many unnecessary fees laid out on the sheet in front of you, your blood temperature starts to spike again. You’re sure that seeing red means more than taking in the excessive decor around the lobby in this situation. “Isn’t this a bit ridiculous?” 
“It’s a jolly company policy,” the clerk with springy hair chimes, ignoring your look of disdain for the holiday lingo. “If you can’t attend or need to cancel for any reason, there are cancellation fees to account for the setup and staff accommodations.”  
“It’s two thousand dollars.” 
The look of concern on the woman’s face is genuine, but so is your fury. She tries to sympathize with a light tone. “I am aware that it’s pretty steep, but… Those would be the fees if you cancel everything.” 
“Are there fees for everything here? Everything up until this point has been a mistake. You even booked this guy—” 
“Now, now.” You feel a placating hand on your arm, and you whip your head sideways. The look on Jin’s face is commanding you to go along with whatever he’s about to say. “This guy is your boyfriend, remember, sweetheart?” 
You know he’s just covering you. You know it. But the way he casually gives you a nickname and says it like you’ve been dating for centuries ties your feelings in bows and you can’t seem to untangle them. Inhaling as to not explode, you clench your teeth together. “Yes, honey,” you grit out. “But we need to get things settled, right?” 
“I don’t know…” Jin gives you one slow shake of his tilted head before clicking his teeth. “That’s a bit of money, yeah? Especially when we can just attend.” His brows cock up behind his glasses, and you hate being trapped in the position you’re in. 
Because one, you can’t kick him out of your cabin anymore. At least, not with this same concierge. It would be completely awkward for you to say that he’s a total stranger after what he just said. Two, you would be slapped with hefty fees should you move forward with all the cancellations, so having him be there with you would banish any need for that. 
But you really don’t want to do any of them. 
Especially if you’re being forced to now. 
Oh, how you loathe this entire trip. 
“So it’s settled then?” 
At the chipper voice you want to bash with an empty red vase, you flash a toothless smile. “Yes, that would be all.” 
“Great!” The papers in front of you are shuffled before getting taken to a shredder. “Have a great time! You’re such a cute couple, by the way.” 
“We get that a lot!” Jin interjects before you can blow your cover expeditiously. “Thanks!” He leads you away from the concierge immediately after grabbing the packets, and you duck your head to cover the flush fizzling under your cheeks. 
Why did you care about that comment? The two of you are total strangers! Why did your heart seem to beat for once and even do a little flip for good measure? 
After you cross the front lobby, rounding the towering Christmas tree in the middle and under one of the archways on the other side strewn with lights and garlands, Jin finally releases your arm. Dramatically, you shrug him off at the same time. 
“We aren’t a couple,” you mutter. 
“You don’t think I know that, Miss Obvious?” The guy ruffles his hair before fixing his bangs, and you can’t help but stare at the way his eyes shine behind his glasses. He really is attractive, even when he’s not cooking or sweeping glass away from your feet. “We just have to act like one until all of these events are over.” 
“I really don’t think this is a good idea.” 
“Why not?” 
You don’t answer his question, instead grappling for ways to get out of it. Begrudgingly, you can’t grasp one. Two-thousand dollars is a punch to the gut. 
Checking his watch, Jin tuts, “We don’t have a lot of time.” 
The aggravated sigh you expel gives him pause. “I hate this,” you say truthfully. “This trip was supposed to be… Whatever. The main point is that I booked a lot. I should just cancel--” 
“Wait,” Jin holds out a hand, and you watch him furrow his brows with a heightened interest. 
Shifting his eyes to look at you, he inhales as a decision seems to have been made. “Let’s just make a deal. A business deal, since you seem like the type to like those.” 
You don’t admit that he’s right, but your pursed lips betray your silence. Merry tunes fill the hallways to lighten peoples’ moods, but you’re completely immune, stirring in your continued stew of consequences and mistakes. 
Jin continues, “I’ll go with you to whatever you have planned, and you let me stay. I didn’t have anything booked until the last night, anyway, so I’m free.” His hand juts out in front of you then, and you regard it with a mix of interest and disdain. “Deal?”
Two-thousand dollars. 
You give him a firm shake.
Jin humphs in triumph before he starts walking towards Conference Room A down the hall. As if he suddenly forgot something, he spins on his heel. “Actually, I require one more thing.” 
“We already shook on it.” 
“And you broke company property. Should I tell them about that?” 
A sharp exhale leaves your mouth. When his smug eyes turn around, you follow him with frustration, directing your Scrooge-like scowl at the different mini shops lining the hallway on one side and the frosted windows on the other. “Fine. What thing?” 
“Well, two things.” 
When something catches your eye, you stop momentarily. It’s a beautiful crimson scarf on display in one of the fir-lined windows, flecks of subtle gold twinkling in the threads. It reminds you of the garb donning royalty in one of the romance novels you used to read. 
Too bad you don’t deserve anything so extravagant; you barely think you deserve this vacation. Nothing ended up happening at that dinner. Why should you stay in a luxury couples resort right now? Why did you even come? “You’re insufferable, you know that?” 
At your side, Jin turns to you and points a long finger. It seems this is a gesture he does often. “One: have fun.” 
You smack his hand and the ridiculous request away. “No. And two?”
The man looks absolutely offended behind his round specs. “You’re gonna say no to not having fun? Are you really green and furry on the inside?” 
“These events are not going to be fun.” 
“Not with that attitude.” 
“I’m only going because I have to,” you seethe, not wanting to give him anything more than that. You want to keep your reasons private. Is it the right choice, though? “Not because I want to. And before you ask, I don’t want to talk about it.” 
“Okay, sorry.” Jin relents then, peering into the window before puffing up again. “Fine. If you can’t do number one, here’s number two.” 
Arms folded, you wait.   
“Don’t hurt me.”
Your aggravated sigh smushes into his back since he vacates directly after his second request. A nonsensical request, at that. You were expecting something of monetary value, or at least something more substantial than refraining from inflicting harm. Though you suspect the way you ran at him with a vase had something to do with that one. 
As he goes up to the clothed table in front of the conference room, you’re already wanting to turn and bolt back to your cabin.
The two young adults sitting behind the table are awaiting your names to check you in, jingling hats on top of their bored heads. 
“Mister and Missus Kim, please,” Jin announces, voice low. Did he do that so you wouldn’t hear him say it? And he’s been calling you Miss this whole time. Why did he go along with the Missus? You feel strange. Weird. 
“Table four,” the girl says, lazily handing him a laminated paper that has his—and your supposed—last name on it in bold, horribly curly font. “Hurry up or you’ll be… late.” Her words taper off when she finally looks at your pseudo-boyfriend. Instantly enamoured, her eyes beam like an entire tree suddenly lit.
“For a very important holi-date!” Jin simply sings on before sauntering into the room, waving off the girl’s confused expression and your shaking, embarrassed head on his heels.
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
Your annoying business partner swivels and winks at you, and you can tell a smirk accompanies it under his mask. You aren’t sure if you feel lucky or betrayed that you can’t see it. “Then that would be a nightmare before Christmas, wouldn’t it? If anything, I’m your lifesaver. We’re gonna win this, too.” 
“Pfft,” you blurt. “The prize is probably going to be super lame anyways. Like you.”  
“...And the winner of this morning’s competition will win five hundred dollars! Happy house building!” 
You can only stare, slack jawed, as the announcer tinkers a triangle to start the competition, couples eagerly getting to work around your station. Beside you, Jin’s mouth is agape as much as yours is—he had since taken off his mask since you grabbed a table—before he slips into a smug grin. “If you think I’m as lame as five hundred dollars, I’m flattered.” 
“Oh, shut up,” you hiss. “Come on, let’s get to work.” As you stare at the many accoutrements and various decorations, you try to formulate a plan in your head. This is serious now. You didn’t expect that big of a prize. 
But Jin is already building the frame without discussing with you, so you clutch his wrists. Surprisingly soft wrists. “Wait. There’s gotta be a best way to do this.” 
“Yeah,” he drawls. “Make the house.” 
“No, but,”—you hesitate, releasing his limbs—“It’s gotta be perfect if we’re going to win.” 
“You don’t have to be perfect to win.” Jin cocks a brow at your confused look before he smiles, glasses nudged up his nose before he looks back at the gingerbread slabs. “Sometimes being unique is the deciding factor.”      
“But what about precision?” 
A laugh punctuates your question. “I would say you’re fun at parties, but I don’t think you go to those.”
The next ten minutes consist of even more arguments, and you barely miss the mix of upset and endearing looks being shot your workstation’s way like arrows from a different holiday. 
Even through the semi-tense atmosphere and your death glares, Mr. Intruder still finds ways to stay amused. “You know where you’d be without me?” 
“In a quieter place.” 
“On a…” He holds up one of the roof pieces that already have an indented design. “Shingles retreat.” 
“Oh my god,” you whisper, your words immediately buried by the giggling poking your side. “How are you so lame?” 
Jin casually lays his arm on the plastic tablecloth, resting his chin in his palm. “Asks the one making a gingerbread house at a luxury resort.” 
“Whatever. Focus, will you? There’s a prize to win.” 
“I hope there’s a trophy, too.” 
“There’s five hundred dollars on the line and you’re worried about a trophy? Who are you?”
“A guy that likes trophies.”  
After the frame is constructed, you put it upon yourself to ice the shingles design into the roof. But you underestimated the level of skill it needs. Damn Jin for making it look so easy while he put your house together. 
You feel the heat of a stare as you pour all of your brainpower into spreading the white substance out. When you keep getting it uneven or clumped, puffs of frustration leave your lips. 
Until hands softly cover your own and there’s a voice next to your ear, “Don’t rush it.” 
You tense and make to elbow the guy back, but you remember that this is a couples’ activity, so it would look very strange to others if you’re physically fighting your partner. 
So you let him guide your hands along the ridges, and you smile just a bit as the icing starts to outline the house in creamy goodness—pretty and even. You’re so sucked into the way it leaves the piping bag that you don’t notice the way your construction partner presses a little closer to you, his sweatered chest soaking in the heat of your back. 
When you do notice his proximity, you weasel your way forward and cough out, “Umm, so that’s done. What’s next?” 
Jin backs up immediately and retakes the seat next to you, his voice staying the same as before. “What would you like to do next, Miss Captain?” 
“You don’t need to say Miss before everything!” 
“Why not, Miss Before Everything?” 
After the pair of you manage to have an iced house and even some semblance of a yard, you proceed to bicker over something else: candy decor.  
“Listen to me. Gumdrops are the superior topper for the roof.”
“But they’re the most predictable! Let’s go with the Kisses.” 
“It would literally look like someone took a shit on our house.” 
Jin spits out his laughter, covertly taking a red chocolate morsel and slipping it into some spare icing. “You know what you’re being right now?” 
You’re not paying attention as you huff out, “What?” 
Planting the candy right onto your unsuspecting nose, Jin stares you right in the eyes.
As your eyelids slowly sag in defeat, the charming sound of his laugh makes you fight the urge to smile alongside him. 
It’s boisterous. Uncompromising. It’s the laugh of a person that lives life just to live it, and you didn’t know that it was possible to tell that about someone just based on one sound alone. The warmth you start feeling inside your chest melts any embarrassment you think to feel from having a sugary nose.  
Still. It doesn’t take away your eyes on the whopping prize up for grabs. There isn’t much time left. “Come on, be serious,” you mutter, swiping the candy from your face with a napkin. “I need this money so I can cancel all the other activities.” 
Your implication is caught immediately. “Hey!”  
You don’t need the money for cancellations since you’re being forced to attend everything, but any extra funds would be nice now that you can’t fall back on another bank account. There are so many things that you need to figure out now, and here you were making gingerbread houses. If you don’t win this competition, it will be the biggest waste of time. 
And it is. The universe wins again.
When time is up and the costumed judges walk around, the prize ends up going to another couple; your brows furrow alongside Seokjin’s when they unveil their two-storied monument, the halved pieces creating a skinnier, taller tower. Your blood roars as the two women jump in joy.
Nothing is going right for you. The road in front of you is only going to be full of bumps and roadblocks and shitty gingerbread houses for the rest of your life. Sighing, you throw your napkin down and plop into your chair. A loser’s chair. 
You don’t respond to the soft voice next to you, instead shifting your foot on the floor.
“Ours deserved it,” Jin proclaims as he roams his proud gaze over your perfectly iced house, a mix of fruity and chocolate candy dotting its roof and walls. “I said unique is the deciding factor; they cheated!” 
“Yeah, well, it’s already over.” 
“Come on. The prize wasn’t that big a deal anyways,” your partner shrugs, which ignites something in you. 
“Wasn’t that big a deal? I don’t know what mansion you arrived from, but five hundred dollars is huge. And in case you haven’t noticed, my life hasn’t exactly been great since you arrived. All I wanted was to have a good time when I planned this trip, but now all it’s being is a huge waste of time and money. So yeah, it kinda was a big deal.” 
In the wake of your mini-tirade, the words settle and weigh down Jin’s broad shoulders. “That was stupid of me,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to make it fun.” 
Your next words are ice, sliding out of your mouth like glaciers, “I can’t afford to have any fun.” 
You shove your chair out with a harsh scrape and leave, not caring about pushing it back under the table. 
Are you being too much? Too brash? Maybe. But your wounds are still pretty fresh from the breakup, and Jin has been way too considerate for your liking. You can’t even think straight when Mr. Intruder is being so nice that you can’t really fight him on anything else other than a flippant comment. You need to keep him at a distance, preferably a very far distance.
Who just helps out a stranger this much? Who just waltzes into someone else’s life and takes on their burdens like it’s nothing? It’s weird and leaves you with a cocktail of emotions that you both want to chug and refuse. 
With this thought, you decide to keep your walls up. He’s nice, but you can’t let your guard down. 
Just like your ex, all people are going to do is derail your plans in the end. Maybe it’s better if you stay on your own for now and plan out the rest of your life a different way—a way that sees you walking down a path alone.
With just one look over your shoulder, your chest unexpectedly tightens at the way Jin stares at the house you both built, a lone finger scooting a colorful piece of candy under icing.
Tumblr media
After the gingerbread competition debacle, the whole rest of the day and the next one after consist of you holed up in your room, more recluse than ever. Curled up under your thin sheet and thick comforter, all you do is watch the constant snowfall outside, endlessly coming up with ways on how to move on. 
You legitimately don’t know where to go from here. The plan was to settle with your ex and then the next logical step was to create a family. Then maybe you would then allow yourself to relax. Maybe even explore what happiness feels like.
This trip was supposed to be your first taste of it, actually. 
Ever since you could remember, you had been purely focused on working and your career. There wasn’t any room for happiness—or “fun,” as your annoying roommate called it. Happiness, to you, existed in a successful life, to be further explored when you could retire and settle down. 
So when you saw your boyfriend being sneaky, you took that as a sign that a proposal was coming. 
You already knew that would be the first event in your life you would legitimately celebrate. Not your birthdays, not your career progressions—those were expected as much as the changing of seasons. But a proposal was momentous to you, so you started saving what you could for this vacation. 
And it took months until you could book it. You saved what you could, closed whatever deals came your way, budgeted even more strictly than before. And you planned it perfectly—as you always did—because that dinner that you were anticipating happened before the resort dates. 
The one factor you didn’t take into consideration was the change of occasion. 
And now, faced with the prospect that the one thing that you knew was going to get you to a place of content has vanished, happiness is the last thing on your mind, much less any feeling. Emotions have proven nonexistent now. They’re worthless. 
You blankly stare at the white expanse outside your window, knowing why the temperature in your chest matches the frigid weather around your cabin. 
You don’t even acknowledge the random knocks at your door, or the various apologies that push their way through the wood. Talks of events that are happening around the resort, activity options that Jin proclaims he’s going to go out to do—none of them garner a reply from your dried lips. Hasn’t he gotten the message by now? Why is he still attempting to help you? 
All you can do is wordlessly yell at him to stop trying. 
The night of your full day of moping, you slowly open your door to venture out for a glass of water. 
So it’s a shock to see a tray of food on the ground, complete with roasted vegetables and a hearty serving of stew.
Did Jin go to the local market for this stuff? You remember passing a small marketplace on the way to the lodge; it’s nowhere close. But also, do you even deserve what’s being offered? You know the food is completely homemade, and if you remember correctly, the last interaction you had with Jin wasn’t pleasant.
Taking it from the ground anyway, you retreat back to your room and gingerly place it on the tiny table situated by your window. 
The food is impeccable. 
And you cry.
Tumblr media
While the third day was void of any activities, the fourth is chock full, starting with various hiking trails and ending with a couple’s spa treatment. 
You briefly remember browsing the website and noticing that it boasted its own spa on the lower levels of the mountainside resort. You thought it would be a nice place to settle down after a long day, but after the tense, mostly silent atmosphere of the hikes with Jin, you need it now more than ever. 
That morning, it was a stilted conversation as you relayed the day’s outline to your roommate, who only nodded along. He looked tired for once, even more than the first night when he begged you to let him stay. Not one to pry, you simply got everything ready and waited for him before leaving. 
The hikes were mostly self-guided tours since the trails weren’t that treacherous. There were some slippery surfaces and some cascading, makeshift steps from time to time, but nothing major. 
At least, that’s what you thought until you slipped on soft ground. Landing in a pair of strong arms instead of on your bad hip, your heart almost leapt out of your chest and tumbled the rest of the way down before you collected yourself. 
“Thanks,” you muttered. 
“You’re welcome,” Jin whispered back. “I got you.” 
It made you feel uncomfortable. Not because of him, but because of your sudden slush of emotions. Shrugging him off, you wiped nothing off your clothes. “I got it from here,” you proclaimed, putting up a very stupid front. 
After that, you were more careful and deliberate in your steps, walking the trail with the sole purpose of finishing. Business deal. It’s just something you have to do so you don’t have to pay for it even more.
You couldn’t wait to get it over with. Your ex would have been delighted on the trails dotted with Christmas light displays and ice sculptures, not unlike the way Jin ambled and admired the scenery behind. He enjoyed nature walks. 
This trip had been a terrible decision.
It was after the third time you stopped to wait for your roommate that you finally, truly watched him. You observed the way he would scrunch his nose to fix his glasses while looking at various trees and statues, the way he would whip out his phone and stare at it before taking pictures. He even took a photo of himself at one point, and you huffed in tiny amusement. 
You admitted it: he’s cute.
Hmm. The fact that you were out in nature alone with a guy didn’t even occur to you until then. You had quickly gotten accustomed to this one person to the point where you were just waiting for him to catch up instead of checking over your shoulder every five paces. 
Despite his look of exhaustion that morning, Jin seemed content then. It seemed that, even left to venture on his own, he was managing to have fun. He even shot a smile your way when he realized that you were waiting for him. 
You scowled and turned around to keep going. 
But you thought about many other things after that: how he keeps trying for you; how he keeps staying by your side; how your caustic nature hasn’t shooed him off. He didn’t think of this vacation as a business deal at all, and he was the one who made the proposition. Jin had simply been giving you everything, and you? What of your level of effort? 
Maybe you could try and meet him halfway. Try to have a little bit of fun, too.
When you finally get back to the cabin after a quiet shuttle ride to the resort, you enter your temporary home with a sigh. 
“What else do we have to do,” Jin asks behind you as he lightly moves you to get into the kitchen. He sounds much less chipper than he had been when asking about the gingerbread competition, and you can’t say you like this version of him. Maybe you were incorrect in your assumption that he didn’t think of it as a mere deal. 
Checking your phone, you wince. “Oh… We could just cancel this one.” 
“What is it?”
“Couples spa.” 
“Oh, damn. Why cancel? That sounds great.” 
“It’s… for couples…” 
“And? I could use a pampering.” 
Staring at him and thinking he just might not be getting it, you reiterate, warily, “It’s a couples massage…” 
“What’s so scary about a massage?” 
You run through the amenities offered that you remembered from the website. It won’t be some ordinary spa retreat. There are massages for couples, but they’re in the same room. Private saunas. Special baths. “For someone that says they’re not a perv, you’re sure as hell a perv…” 
Jin outright waves you and your point off, no longer offended by your insults. “Please! I haven’t gotten a massage in so long. My shoulders are killing me and being scared to death the first night didn’t help.” 
You lift your chin to avoid his knowing stare, already berating yourself for choosing to meet him halfway. You will try. Just try. “Fine.” Mentally preparing yourself, you think to wear the camisole you have stashed in your suitcase. “But this one you’re paying me for.” 
“How does it feel to get coal in your stocking every year?” 
“Ha ha.” 
Just like you suspected, your appointment consists of a couples massage and sauna, both of which throw you into the same space. It doesn’t take long for you two to be ushered into changing rooms and wrapped in soft resort robes. 
And just like the last time, you’re appointed as The Kims and get stared at lovingly by all the staff. 
Begrudgingly, you know that everyone is just ogling your fake boyfriend. Not that you can blame them. 
Jin decided to forego the glasses before heading out of the cabin earlier, and you hated how you stuttered mid-step when you saw him without them, his dark bangs swept to the sides. If only you had met him under different circumstances. Maybe you would have… 
“This way, please,” one of the staff workers leads with his arms. When you enter the room you’re assigned, the sight that greets you has your jaw dropping in an instant.
There are two massage tables laid out in the center of the room, surrounded by small tables topped with candles and pine cones. But the decor isn’t what draws your attention—the wide window overlooking the crystal lake below the resort is what clenches your heart. 
You remembered why you booked this particular event—and room—now: your ex loved lakes. It was one of his dreams to be able to enjoy himself on a lakeside, book in his hand and the wind in his hair. 
You shared that same dream. At least, you thought you did. It certainly seemed nice, even though you don’t exactly know how to relax. Work, work, work, and more work are what you know. But it would have been nice to be able to experience that with him. 
That’s why you splurged on the massage room that boasted the view. You were waiting months to see his face when—
“Sweetheart,” Jin whispers, his voice a bit raspy. 
You swiftly turn to regard him before noticing that the therapists are waiting for you by the tables. “Oh, sorry,” you apologize to their smiles, bowing slightly. “The view’s really nice.” 
It’s the woman that chirps first, “No worries! We’re used to it. It’s really gorgeous, isn’t it?” 
You nod, embarrassed by your gawking but still nostalgic from the scenery. Beside you, Jin asks the staff a question that you can’t quite hear. 
“Of course! Take your time. We’ll be back in a few minutes.” 
You don’t realize anything happens until you hear the door close behind you, and you wonder where the staff went. Jin seems to know what’s happening, his lazy strides to the light of the window catching your attention. 
Padding after him, you join him in drinking in the lake, the coniferous trees dotting its shores, the white-capped mountains a safe barrier all around. It’s much clearer and bluer than the pictures. Ethereal. You think it’s magical, like the environment was plucked from a heavenly body and gifted to your home planet thousands of years ago. 
“This was supposed to be a surprise,” you suddenly blurt, validating why you always think about your words before uttering them. Damn, you didn’t plan on divulging something so personal. Just how much did you just give away? You’re desperately hoping that Jin didn’t hear you. 
But judging by the way his head turns, you know it’s too late to take anything back. 
So you charge forward, your own attempt to reconcile with his endless help. “I… Umm.” 
The task is much harder than you thought it would be. You don’t know what to say. And when you usually don’t know what to say, you don’t say anything. 
But Jin deserves something, so you keep trying. 
Fiddling with the robe in front of your chest seems to distract you and give you courage. Sighing deeply, you take the plunge. “He liked lakes.” 
“Ah. Do you like lakes?” 
It’s not the question you were expecting, so you knit your brows, taking in the smell of pine immersing the room. “Maybe? I don’t know for sure. But this one is nice.” 
“It is. It looks like one of those blue ice pops when it’s frozen.” 
“Aren’t all ice pops frozen?” 
“Not when they’re just liquid! You have to throw them in the freezer for them to turn into popsicles. It makes you feel less guilty for giving kids straight sugar.” 
You chuckle, letting the lake and the man beside you see how your face looks when you smile. “I don’t remember those at all,” you reveal. “I don’t recall much about my childhood, honestly. I feel like I’ve been going nonstop ever since I could remember.” 
“You say it like that’s a bad thing.” 
“Isn’t it? I didn’t remember anything about the hiking we did today other than waiting for you.” 
“What! That was one of the nicest trails I’ve been on. You missed out, Miss Business.” 
You lightly nudge his side, finding a bit of peace in his crinkled eyes. “I’m trying to be serious here! I don’t usually talk about these things.” 
“I know.” Jin’s look settles into something tender, features softening and embracing your heart before you could utter another word. “But you can with me. We won’t see each other after this week, right? Think of it as a temporary counseling measure.” 
Why did a bit of cold seep into your chest? 
“Who even are you?” 
He just smiles. “Nobody.” 
A knock at the door disrupts your retort. When the therapist peeks his head in, he lets you both know to strip down to your comfort level and they’ll be back inside in a couple minutes. 
Thank goodness you put on your camisole. This is what you were dreading before. Rushing to the bed closer to the window, you silently call dibs before ordering, “Go to your table and undress first.” 
Without argument, Jin strides to his massage station before musing, “You must be a supervisor. Or a CEO.” 
You scowl at him from across the tables, refusing to tell him he’s not far off. “And why do you think that?” 
The man simply smirks down at his sheets while undoing and peeling off his robe. “You’re just so bossy.”
Before you can whip your head away, you catch the way his veins protrude and run down his neck. His collarbones and shoulders are just as perfect, but you regretfully did not catch anything below them.
You hear the rustling of his sheets and hope to the heavens that he covered himself—or do you secretly wish differently? 
When you don’t hear anything else, you sneak a peek over your shoulder and see him facedown on his table, a thin sheet thankfully shielding you from further suffering. 
Even though the outline and curves of his body are enough to make you bite your lip. 
“Hurry up, Mrs. Claus, they’re coming in soon.” 
Scrambling because Jin is right, you tear open your robe and hastily get onto your table. The therapists are just going to have to deal with your camisole and underwear because you are not going to risk your roommate seeing you naked a second time. 
Even if you feel strangely comfortable in his presence. It’s quite peculiar. 
The massage goes by quicker than you want it to, your exhausted muscles reveling in the kneads and rolls. Soft music floats over your tables and essential oils comfort your mind while you’re being pampered, so when you have to shift onto your back, your contented look at Jin is genuine—his is, too. 
After you’re done, the sauna follow-up is a mostly silent affair again, and you’re not sure if it’s the steam or the way that Jin looks under a tight shirt, but you are much too hot. Holy hell, he’s cut. 
Focus. You need to think of other things that are not your very attractive roommate. 
Talking to Jin rendered you contemplative. You feel like you spoke too much while being entranced by the crystal clear lake, so you dial things back a bit to keep your physical and mental distance. 
Because even though Jin is nice and offered to be a springboard for your problems, you still feel like you don’t deserve something like that. You don’t even deserve him going with you to do all of these things so you don’t have to pay the cancellation fees. 
This trip was supposed to be a reward for a proposal. A proposal that never happened. What started out as things you planned with purpose has turned into a scramble to get them over with. 
You were truthful in saying that you don’t remember the hikes. You barely remember anything you did. Because these are business deals. You have to remind yourself of that, or else you’ll pitch yourself into darkness again. You can’t enjoy them because you’re not supposed to.
Just deals. Jin goes with you to the events and you let him stay in the cabin. That’s it.  
But as you get ready for bed that night, you hear your roommate belting the notes of an overplayed Christmas song, and you figure that the arrangement isn’t so bad. 
Tumblr media
Morning taps your shoulder, but you don’t need to be beckoned awake. 
Staring at the aged ceiling of your room, you have already made a choice—it is just leaving the familiarity of your temporary bed that gives you pause. 
But you leave and start your day anyway because this gesture is something you have never, ever done before. Be it the holiday spirit, or the fact that you’re feeling generous, your decision is uncharacteristic and you need to carry it out before you take it back.
After freshening up, you throw on the robe from your closet and pad to the kitchen. Outside the sliding door of the living room, nothing greets you but the tiniest shade of dawn, so you know that your roommate is still sound asleep. 
Perfect. Because you do not need him to witness what’s about to happen. 
Unwittingly biting a nail, you take stock of everything in the kitchen, opening cupboards and scanning inside the fridge. 
You sigh. It seems that Jin had stocked your kitchen with various foodstuffs, and you note that most of them are agreeable. He had to have ventured to the local market to buy everything while you were cooped up in misery days ago. The thought of him even doing so gets your heart semi-beating again. 
If only you had been there to help. That trip might have been a bit, dare you say it, fun. 
Shaking your head, you get past the wallowing and retrieve some things from the fridge. Next stop for you is some seasonings in a cabinet. When you gather everything you need, you fire up the stove and launch a plea into the soft morning sky. 
Your plea did not reach whomever it was supposed to, its arch much too short and causing a quick descent back to Earth.
“Damn it, no! Stay in the pan…” 
Nothing is seeming to go right. You are pretty sure you botched the food, including something that you know would take skill to screw up. The smells assaulting your nostrils are a great indication of your level of success. 
Huffing and puffing, you attempt to juggle multiple tasks and realize with dread that you may have to throw all of your results away. 
Why can’t you do something so simple? There are even directions laughing at you from inside your phone screen on the island! Scowling at them while trying to read the next steps, you bite your lip and bring yourself back to the stovetop. Flipping off the burners, you start the trepidatious task of plating. 
Jin made everything look so easy a few days ago. Sure, it was eggs and toast, but the guy still made it seem like you had front row seats to a cooking show. As you finish sliding everything onto dishes and attempting to make them look decent, you inspect your work with mushed lips.
“What are you doing?” 
The ceiling is what stops you from propelling out of the cabin when you react. You’re lucky that all the food is already mingling on their plates, though sad and a bit pathetic. His timing is more decent than he is. “Geez, Jin, you scared the shit out of me.” 
The look on his face is telling you to remember the unspoken rule he mentioned the other day, and you puff a tendril of hair away from your eyes. 
“My senses told me something was burning and to leave the cabin.” 
“Are they also detecting a pan being hurled at your face?”
Barefaced and cheerful, the man just laughs and takes a seat at one of the island stools. “I just haven’t seen you since we came back from the spa. I figured you escaped from your window or something.” 
“Oh.” You forgot how you shut yourself in your room after opening up to him at the spa. It felt necessary at the time. You didn’t want to risk revealing anything else about your life, and you wanted to keep the week a business deal. That’s partly what prompted this foray in the kitchen in the first place. It’s your way of compromise. “Sorry I didn’t say anything, but it doesn’t have anything to do with you. I don’t really want to talk about it, though.” 
“You don’t have to.” You hear a shift of clothes. “As long as you don’t say I was so ugly you wanted to avoid me, I’m fine.” 
“You’re so weird,” you comment, using this as your cue to serve the breakfast you concocted. “But never mind that. Here.” 
A sudden wave of uncertainty crashes into your brain as you regard the full servings.
You know it’s going to be awful. His comments—or lack thereof—are most likely going to decimate you. But this is supposed to be a wordless thanks for everything Jin has done, so you suck it up and grab the plates, placing them on the island for his viewing. 
His eyes are unblinking as he stares. Moments pass, and you don’t particularly like how antsy you are to receive his opinion. Does it really matter that much to you? Why are you dreading a terrible review?
“I’m impressed.”
And why does your heart inflate like a balloon? 
“At… how epically I failed?” You put a tired hand on your forehead to rub your temples. Jin is obviously saying how impressed he is that you managed to mess breakfast up. “You don’t have to eat it, it’s fine. I know I’m not a chef but I tried, so…”
“What? No!” The man’s eyes crease as his smile brightens the kitchen. “I will admit that it’s not perfect, but this is eggs benedict. Did you think it was going to be easy?”
“I don’t know! I just looked up recipes and that one seemed universally liked!” Flustered, you fold your robed arms and face the table instead, omitting the fact that you realized how screwed you were halfway through the instructions.
The tinkering of utensils reaches your ears, and you shift your gaze to watch Jin take a bite of your food. Judging from the way his brows bend upward, he may actually be enjoying it. But your mind is hard set on the possibility that you fucked up, so you squash anything positive. 
Uncrossing your arms, you slowly turn to face him fully. The way he’s smiling at you is making you want to both run and stand still, rendering you without any reply at all. 
“Did you really do this just for me?” 
“Yeah, well,” you puff, suddenly uncomfortable and twisting the atmosphere back to your liking. “Don’t expect this again. I just figured you’ve done a lot, so I wanted you to take a break for a bit.” 
Jin takes another bite, but while he chews, his eyes seem to want to converse with you. Staring more than necessary, you just shrug your anxiousness away and busy yourself with cleaning the pots and pans.
While you’re dumping them in the sink, you push forward with your second offering, “There’s something else.” 
You gulp, knowing that he would ask and still not being prepared for the response. “Yes,” you begin warily. “About the schedule today.” 
“Out with it,” Jin cuts in, cheeks inflating as if to smother the laugh threatening to release. “What are you scared of doing with me?” 
How is this man so perceptive? Have you just been living and working with people who just follow orders and don’t think too much about things? Or is this person just different? Gripping the counter in front of you, your voice comes out a bit softer than you intend when you finally divulge, “Hot springs.” 
Jin stops his chewing, much too invested in the conversation now. It puts you right in the spotlight and you almost don’t utter another word.
But you do anyway because this is just something that needs to be done. You keep the situation simple because that is what you understand. Equivalent exchange. Business deals. “If you would… If it would be in your best interest to accompany me,” you offer, finally picking up your fork to try your food, “Then I would be saved from paying those fees.” 
His laugh is more puffy because his mouth is still half full. “Why are you talking as if I have a choice? Business deal, remember?” 
“I remember.” Pointing your bite toward Jin’s face as to protect your pride, you add, “But I know hot springs aren’t for everyone.” 
He hums, dumping his utensils onto his plate before getting up to clean them. “I’m not everyone,” he reminds you as he rounds the island, smug. “I still think I’m getting the short end of the stick since I paid for this place, too, though.” 
You huff before answering, “You are not everyone. I agree.” Biting into your lukewarm food, you warily chew and decide it’s not as bad as you thought. “No, but you’re right. I’ll pay you for the events. Your half, anyway. It’s still less than the cancellation fees. Why do they have such high rates anywa—” 
Your words cut off when you feel a small, tiny crunch in your bites. 
Glancing down at your meal for the culprit, you finally see that the eggs you attempted to poach somehow had stray shell bits on them. 
Did Jin’s magically not have any? He would’ve definitely used that as a chance to tease you. Right? Or… 
When you look up, your roommate is already heading back to the stairs. “I’ll go with you,” he agrees, features soft as he’s grabbing the banister. “And don’t worry about it. You don’t need to pay me anything.” 
Your eyes travel back down to your plate. 
And your mood rises to the sky.
Your mood flowed into the rest of the day, from the time the pair of you flipped on a cheesy holiday movie, roamed around the resort to check out the various light displays, up to the time when you got ready to go to the hot springs. 
In your whirlwind of a week, you completely forgot that you had pre-packed a certain swimsuit for the springs since it was supposed to be a special occasion. It revealed a lot more than you were used to. 
You didn’t have anything else to wear. 
You could’ve possibly thrown on a t-shirt, or scrapped the swimsuit altogether and worn a plain camisole like before… 
So as you’re staring at your reflection in the resort locker room mirrors, you’re wondering why you chose not to do either of those things. 
Is it the way you’re finally cozying up to Mr. Intruder? Or is it the way you’re finding him a tad bit attractive and you can tell that he feels somewhat the same? 
Biting your lip, you grab your towel and make your way outside to the steps leading down to the springs. It’s absolutely freezing, causing curses and orders for Jin to hurry the hell up to wisp out of your lips. 
The voice behind you pushes you forward. “What the hell,” you seethe, teeth knocking each other from the cold. “Don’t scare me like that!” 
“Sorry. You just look…” Jin’s eyes are shameless in the way they travel over your form. What is he going to say? Why are you more attentive than you’ve ever been? “You look cold.”
Your sandal clunking him on the head would have been a great idea had you not been frozen and embarrassed on the spot. “Ass! I’m cold because you took so long!” 
Jin’s laugh taunts you all the way down the stone steps, but you have to stay in front of him because you definitely thought he was going to say something else. And you cannot keep staring at the way his white shirt hugs his body. That shirt again? You can see the outline of everything!
After settling into the crystal blue pools beckoning you for weeks, you sigh in content, briefly forgetting why you booked them in the first place. All you’re preoccupied with is the man a few arms’ lengths away from you enjoying himself and getting his entire head wet. 
As much as you loved the glasses he wore, you find this version of him—soaking locks, eyes alight, content smile on his face—is the one you’ll remember for a long time. Far after this trip is over and you’re both back to living your separate lives. The slight pang in your heart is ignored. 
When he moves a bit closer, splishing the water around your arms, you allow yourself to entertain the idea that you are Missus Kim. Not the one that was supposed to happen, but the one married to the goofball waving his arms in steam wafting from the springs. 
It’s brief and fleeting, but it does make you feel warm. Inside and out. 
And when Jin reaches under the water to pull you closer to his crescent eyes, you allow yourself to let go—just for this moment. Maybe your guard doesn’t have to be up all the time around him. It’s thrilling and strange and wonderful. Missus Kim. The future Missus Kim will be a very, very lucky one indeed. 
“Awhh, you’re both so cute!” 
Both of you whip your heads sideways. Across the spring, a couple is watching, both of them smiling wide. You realize with a start that it’s the same couple that took the gingerbread competition prize from your iced fingers. 
While you’re clamming up, Jin naturally takes the lead. “We get that a lot. Thank you.” 
The taller woman is silent, but the shorter one with pretty hair questions, “Where are you both from?”  
“Ah, all over,” your roommate says, his palms still encircling yours under the water. “We don’t really stay in one place for too long.” 
You can’t do anything but stare at his jawline, his nonchalant and effortless conversation saving your sudden timidness. When did you get so shy? Aren’t you supposed to have a commanding, intimidating presence? And how does Jin think “all over” is a suitable answer? 
The shorter one pays no mind. “Oh, that’s so cool! What are you both here for? We just got engaged so this is our celebration trip.” While she reveals this, the taller woman nudges her arm, signaling for the preppy woman to not bother too much. 
Your fingers tense around Jin’s at the last sentence, but he takes one look at you before flashing the couple a smile. “It’s ours, too! I asked her to marry me. Naturally, she said Yes.”
The women laugh outright but you’re far from being humored.    
What the hell is he doing? Why did he have to say that? 
Your walls are rebuilding so fast that they’re not even being constructed straight. Gingerbread houses have sturdier frames than your heart does at this moment and you feel suffocated. This hurts. Everything hurts. Your hands are squeezing so hard around his, and finally, he regards you with a hint of concern. 
A sigh precedes an airy, “What a beautiful couple.” 
“Yeah.” Jin gives a toothless smile their way before slowly staring at you, the droplets falling from his bangs and the tender look in his eyes scaring the living Christmas lights out of you. “I’m pretty lucky.” 
You can’t do this. Leave. You have to leave. 
You’re so choked up with emotions at this point that you have to rely on the steam. Let it veil your expression and swallow you whole. Your smile is manufactured as the couple hums in agreement, for when they glide away to a farther part of the spring, you immediately turn and power your way to the edge of the pool. 
Jin calls your name with worry behind you, but you’re bent on getting the hell away from him. You let your guard down. It hurts. 
Why did he have to say that? Of all things? Why did he have to be so goddamned nice and cruel at the same time? 
As your towel-wrapped form is scampering up the wet steps, you feel a desperate hand clutch yours. “Wait! What’s wrong?” 
Spinning, you reveal your pink-rimmed eyes as you yank your increasingly cold fingers away. “Stay away from me!” 
Jin’s staring in shock. You take in the hurt swirling throughout his face, but your wound is so full of the salt he filled it with that you burst. 
You tell him everything: why you wanted to cancel the activities, why you planned the vacation in the first place, why you just wanted to be alone. You rip out your heart and tell him why it’s so beaten and dark, showing him that some of the wounds are from his own hands. 
“So you saying that back there? About being engaged?” You let out an empty, heartless laugh. “Thanks, asshole! Way to rub it in.” 
Eyes glossed, Jin starts to say something, but you slice through. 
“Don’t apologize. I don’t need apologies, or sympathy, or whatever else you think I need.”
It’s cold outside—frigid. But your words are harsher, grittier, icier. “You thought you were helping but you just made everything worse! Congratulations! Grow the fuck up and learn what giving someone space actually means.” 
The last thing you see before you turn on your heel is the look of a man that’s completely and utterly sorry. 
And you want nothing more than for that man to ignore your screams and hold you. 
Holy shit, you’re terrible. He didn’t deserve that. You want to see his smile and you want to lose yourself in those starry eyes. Stars you wiped out with your anger and hurt. 
Your feet hit the top level and you storm into the locker room, changing quickly and rushing back to your cabin.
He isn’t lucky. You’re the lucky one. The lucky one that sure as hell didn’t deserve everything he did for you this entire trip.
A trip that’s well over and done with now, business deals or not. 
There’s no turning back.
You feel envious towards the happy couples dotting the resort, enjoying themselves and not thinking about broken hearts. 
You feel envious towards Jin, being able to live his life to the fullest and show his emotions and never overthinking his actions.
And you feel envious towards the future Missus Kim, already holding a knife to their throat and demanding that they never cut him down the way you just did. 
What was Jin’s second request? 
The stupid one you were supposed to grant? 
“Don’t hurt me.” 
You’re a goddamned fool. 
Night falls in front of your eyes as you stay curled in your bed, stomach gurgling and throat burning, sore. 
You barely remember showering when you got back to the cabin, shutting yourself inside your room as a flimsy shield from the world. From Jin. Though you’d say it’s moreso to protect the world from you, taking your volatile state into account. 
Regret cakes your skin as you take residence under your covers and remorse coats the lining of your ribcage. If you didn’t deserve anything that’s transpired before, you certainly don’t now. 
You’re already calculating how much to pay Jin. You’ll pay him for everything he attended with you, with interest. Money for your troubles. He really did get the shortest end of the damn stick. 
You don’t know how many hours pass while you’re just lying there, but the hot springs and the amount of tears that rained onto your pillowcase render you parched. Water is a necessity at this point.
Gingerly stepping out of your room—bones creaking with lack of use—you make your way to the dark main area of the cabin. You’re almost to the end of the hallway when a sound reaches your ears. 
It’s not the sound of a movie, or a holiday tune on the radio, but something much more melancholic. Hushed. Mournful.
You whip your head towards the upstairs room. 
Something’s wrong.
Millions of curses and scenarios spill into your chest. What’s happening?  Is he okay? 
Without thinking or planning, you propel yourself forward and round the island, trying your hardest to adjust your sight to the dark. The stairs thump under your feet as you make your way up to him, the sounds mirroring the fast pace of your heart.  
When you reach the top of the steps, you peer into the bedroom and cut your heavy breaths short.
At the edge of his bed sits your roommate—your cheerful, optimistic, selfless roommate—with his head in his hands and sobbing into his shaking fingers. 
You’re too stunned to say anything. 
You legitimately think you’re dreaming. 
But when you manage to squeak out his name, Jin whips up his head and has your blood running cold with his response.
“Get out.”
You’re ready to take back every single thing you’ve said. Oh, god. Did you do this? You did this. “I’m so sorry, Seok--” 
“Did you hear me? Get out.” 
Your feet almost move, but you try one more time. “Wait, I need—” 
“What do you need now?” He shoots himself up from the bed, throwing the shirt he had lying on his shoulder into an open suitcase. Your eyes dart to it but you can’t question it because he’s railing into you, relentless, “You say I need to learn how to give space and yet here you are. Take your own damn advice and leave me alone.” 
“I don’t—” 
“You said I made everything worse, but how was I supposed to know? You didn’t say anything! And honestly? You haven’t said a lot of things this whole time, not even a please or thank you! I was just trying to help because I know exactly how you’re feeling. But you win. Deal’s off. Okay? Be happy that I’m now just as miserable as you are.” 
His barrage stuns you into silence, and you’re suddenly running back down the stairs, making a beeline for your room and shutting your door. With your back against the wood, your breath comes out in a whoosh and more tears travel the dried tracks on your cheeks. 
Fuck. You did this. Now you know why the universe is so incredibly disappointed in you. Why it’s so hellbent on sending turmoil your way. You went and upset the one person that was just trying to help you this entire time. Helping you because he...
What did he just say? What did he just admit to you? 
What did Jin mean by knowing exactly how you were feeling? 
There’s no way he’s in the same boat as you.
You try to think of any signs that you missed, cues that flew right above your stupid head. Eyes wide, a few instances come to mind. You remember the way he would space out, the way he kept staring at his phone on the trail, even the way he sat at the table on the very first day you met him. 
You’ve been so focused on yourself that you didn’t realize he was going through his own shit. You just saw this weird, selfless person that didn’t have a care in the world. 
Shutting your eyes in frustration, you forced yourself to finally read the bold print. It’s a couples resort. Why didn’t you pick up on this before? 
For a logical person, you’re quite the dumbass. 
Steeling every bone and muscle in your body to follow orders, you inhale a breath of courage before exiting your room. 
Because if he feels the exact same way that you do, you also know what he really wants. 
Jin wants you there more than anything, just like how you wanted him to barrel past your own wrath spewing at him in waves. 
And you’re correct. 
When you appear in his doorway again, he’s packing, clenching your heart with his planned escape. The conversation from the hot spring enters your mind then, the way Jin said he doesn’t stay in one place for too long. 
Is he running away all because you told him he needed to learn what space was? What a drama queen. That’s not sustainable behavior. Like you, he needs to face his problems and not go on the run at the smallest sign of resistance. 
Both of you are so similar for being so different. It brings you comfort that no amount of isolation and moping ever would. 
As he turns to you, eyes rimmed with agony, he tells you once again to leave. 
When you slowly walk inside and start taking things out of his suitcase, his grip on your arm is shaking. 
And as he’s pleading you softly—so, so softly—to get out of his room, you sit him down on his bed and uncharacteristically offer your hand, launching into tears when he brings you in for a tight hug instead. The snow that falls from the dark outside is no match for the hot tears the pair of you spill, your conjoined grief rolling down your tired, broken shoulders. 
You’re trying so hard to stay strong for him. Trying and trying and trying, just as he had fought through his own sadness for you. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, voice tight, “I didn’t know.” 
Jin holds you tight and just cries even more, and you feel your chest constrict to the point of legitimate pain. 
“Why did they do it? What did he offer that I couldn’t?” 
This wonderful, selfless man kneeling in your arms is the one that got his heart broken? He’s the one left standing in the cold while his love drifted away with another?
In a twisted way, you feel much better about being left, too. If it happened to him, then why couldn’t it have happened to you? But even stronger than that, you feel incredibly protective of this person you just met five days ago, the fantastic soul you almost chased out of your cabin with a vase and a temper. 
Who was the dumb fuck that left him? How did that person even think that an option? Gripping Jin’s shaking shoulders tighter, you do an even more uncharacteristic thing: nuzzling your face into his shoulder. 
You don’t know whether it works or not, but you certainly feel strangely… at home. How is that even possible? Did the holiday spirit nestle itself inside your barren soul and light a flame inside? How are you able to feel so warm with only a pair of arms around you?
“That person is an idiot and a half,” you finally murmur, your breath warming his neck and his cologne mingling with it. “They didn’t deserve you anyways. You’re… you’re incredible.”
There is definitely something wrong with you because compliments are not your thing, either. Maybe it was the way Jin had been nothing but attentive to your needs even though he had wants of his own, or the way he made it a mission to distract you from sadness when he himself needed it more than ever. 
Or maybe it’s the way your heart feels like it’s smushing itself against your chest, clawing out to hold hands with his. The bump, bump, bump behind your ribs is strong, much stronger than you had ever dealt with before. 
In the softest voice you’ve heard him use, Seokjin merely responds with, “Tell me more, please.”
It’s so inherently him to ask that you break into a chuckle, holding his limp form a bit tighter. “Where do I even start,” you muse, faking a noise of contemplation. “You’re thoughtful, for one. Not as smart as me, but still smart. And you’re an idiot, too, but a cool idiot…”
A laugh rolls down your back in soft puffs, cutting your string of backhanded compliments short. “I’m putting that on my dating profile.” 
“You have a dating app?”
“I’m serious, though,” you whisper, eyelashes tickling your cheeks as you lower your gaze to his smooth neck. You try your best to discreetly inhale his scent before sighing. “And don’t take this the wrong way, but… If you got broken up with, then it makes sense that I did, too.” 
Slowly, tenderly, Seokjin separates your bodies, eyes pinked and searching. “No,” he disagrees with a shake of his head, “Your situation is different.” 
“How so?” 
“Simple.” A hand comes up to your face, only to drop back down to his side after a brief pause. “They just couldn’t handle you.” 
“Ouch. Now I just sound like a bitch.” 
Jin’s brows convene, agreeing with him when he counters with a, “What? No.” As you glance downward, you can see his hands harden into fists. “It would take a certain type of person to handle you, that’s all.” 
Without prompt and before you could offer a rebuttal, he continues, “I think I’ve done a pretty good job so far.” 
It is you that sways back this time, shifting your weight. “Be serious,” you warned. 
“I am.” Seokjin peers straight into your eyes, shifting his between yours in search of something more. Is there something you want to say? “I’m just saying it’s possible. Then again, not a lot of people are like me, so good luck with that.”
“Now that I agree with,” you drone, chest caving just a bit but face remaining the same. “But I was blindsided by my breakup, so I don’t see myself dating anyone else anytime soon.” 
The ghost of a smile starts settling onto his features. “If you did,” he whispers, bringing up his hand and committing to placing it on your cheek this time. “What would you do if you dated me?” 
You grip his hand to remove it from your face, as if your feelings and skipped heartbeats will be felt if he keeps it on you. “That’s even more ridiculous than you being broken up with.” 
Seokjin shakes his head with a slightly bigger smile, flicking his bangs to the side and making you absolutely melt. “Stop that.” 
Instead of being cheeky and disobeying, he smiles even wider. You’re starting to feel your mood lift every time his mouth does. “Humor me this once. What would you do?”  
Talking in hushed voices in the dark isn’t how you saw yourself spending this vacation but, somehow, you have never felt more giddy. It’s a strange emotion that you’re feeling, like you’re on the cusp of discovering something brilliant. When you look at Seokjin, all you see are diamonds in his eyes as he waits for you to turn him down, like you’ve done all the times before. 
Maybe… Maybe you can be honest now. You can say what you really feel. Turning to regard the wall instead of facing him head-on, you give in. “Okay… since you’re so curious, if I hypothetically dated you…” 
“I… Well, I guess I would watch stupid movies with you.” 
“And… I would deal with your dumb jokes.” 
Jin leans in close, and his breath warms your face like a blanket covering from the chill. “And?” 
“And…” You finally turn to face him and gaze down at his lips. So full. So inviting. Your eyes slip into deeper slits, your voice lowering to convey how heavy your next sentence weighs. “I would make sure you never cried like that again.” 
The hand on your arm tightens a bit, and the palm on your face shakes. 
You didn’t mean to give away that much of your heart, but seeing the relief and comfort in Seokjin’s eyes makes you proud of your impulsiveness. There was no thought in your words and there didn’t need to be. No plans. No prompts. 
Just your true feelings reaching out to his. 
“Thank you,” is all he responds with, and your chest squeezes itself when he plants a kiss on your forehead before standing.
You’re left confused on the bed and wondering what Jin’s doing, but he lifts you to your feet and says he’ll be okay now. 
And when he leads you to his doorway and gives you a goodnight peck on the cheek, you’re already planning what to make for breakfast in the morning.
Tumblr media
You hear noises in the kitchen before you even wake up properly, and you smile at the fact that he could be making another delicious meal. You’ve loved everything he’s made. It’s a much better option than another failed attempt on your part. Punching your arms into your robe, you’re content as you open your door.
And your heart plummets to your feet, rolling next to the suitcase waiting by the front door. 
Oxygen seems to escape you as you stand there, unblinking and trying to process what’s happening. Isn’t it only Thursday? You both don’t have to leave until Saturday. 
You jump at the voice, shocked out of your stupor. “What’s going on?” 
“I didn’t think you’d be up already.” 
“I was going to make us breakfast…” You trail off when you see a splash of anguish on Jin’s face. 
“There’s still food in the fridge,” your roommate states, voice eerily plain. “Make sure to throw out any you don’t end up using.” 
“Wait, wait, pause.” Your hands come up to halt his body in front of you. “What are you doing?” 
Jin’s eyes are full of sorrow, betraying his slight smile. “I’m sorry I ruined your trip.” 
Ice runs through your veins. “What?” 
“You’re right. You needed the space and I didn’t let you have that. But you’ll at least have the last two days to yourself.” 
You’re sure your eyebrows create their own scratchy sweater with the way they knit together. Didn’t you both have a good conversation last night? Was that a fever dream? As you watch Jin putting on his shoes, something big lodges in your throat. “You’re going to leave?” 
“Ah, yeah.” Jin looks down at his feet. “I’m gonna go down to the concierge and let them know. I’ll make sure to pay for any other events you had planned, so you don’t have to do anything.”  
“Oh, also, the box on the table? Don’t open that until you get home.” 
“I hope…” A hand ruffles his hair before he whips his bangs, and you’ve grown so fond of his little actions that you feel a pang in your heart. “I hope you find happiness. I know you don’t think you deserve it, but you do.” 
Nothing is making any sense. Are you dreaming? Why do the hallway and front door look like they’re underwater?
Jin grabs his suitcase and rolls it to the exit, prompting you to make a decision. “Wait.” 
He turns, and you see a speck of something in his expression behind his glasses. His stupidly cute glasses.
“I…” What are you going to say? Is it appropriate for you to tell him to stay if he’s clearly set on leaving? Logical to tell him to keep you company when you literally told him you needed space? Why is your heart hammering against your chest? Why are your muscles aching to reach out and rip his suitcase from his hand? “I hope you find it, too.” 
Jin huffs a rueful laugh before smiling, not entirely genuine. “We will. One day.” 
When he shuts the door, you feel like a momentous event just slipped through the cracks of your history. Like you sped past a turning point of your life without checking the directions first. 
But you shake it off. This is what you wanted, right? A chance to be alone and do nothing. Just mope and feel sorry for yourself and come to terms with the fact that you’re just going to live alone. The arrangement you had was a business deal, so with the cancelled events went his departure. 
Walking down the hallway, it feels a lot emptier. The kitchen feels a lot smaller. Did Jin’s presence somehow magnify everything? 
As your eyes roam across the tiled floors, you remember the way they were swept clean for you; as your gaze travels across the island, you recall the way Jin ate your food without any complaints. 
And as you lift your head to regard the room upstairs, you remember how incredibly hurt he sounded. You had never felt more protective over someone in your life. You couldn’t fathom how someone could hurt the man that gave you everything he had. 
There’s one other thing that confuses you.
You’ve never missed someone this much. 
Not anyone that you’ve worked with, not anyone you’ve grown up with, not even your ex that you thought was going to propose to you. 
The way you feel now is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and it scares you just as much as it claws into your heart and makes it bleed from the inside. Sorrow consumes your soul and pain seeps into the marrow of your bones. The walls you erected once before resemble ruins of ancient days.
You fucked up. 
You’ve been given this impossible chance and turned it down in multiple ways. 
But it was unexpected. You have no clue how to deal with that. That’s why you decided to let him go. He’s much, much too good for you anyways. Now that you made that bed, you’re going to lay in it and shed your tears into every square inch of those sheets.
You’re walking past the table when you finally see the box Jin talked about earlier. It’s a flat one, wrapped and topped with a small bow. Intrigued, you gingerly pick it up to inspect the wrapping. There’s nothing on it, which makes you even more curious. What could it possibly be?
He told you not to open it until you got home, but you found yourself unwrapping it on autopilot, wanting to hold onto anything that he left behind. What the hell did he get for you? You didn’t say you wanted anything… 
You can only stare, and stare, and stare some more. 
Deep crimson threads are neatly laid in thin white tissue paper, and the flecks of gold cause a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest and spiral to the rest of your body. 
It’s the scarf you saw in the window the day of the competition. 
How did Jin even know? 
When did he even buy it? 
Your hands slip underneath the material, shaking when you find out it’s incredibly high quality. It couldn’t have been cheap. There’s no way it was less than overpriced. 
And yet again, Jin had given you something without asking for anything in return. 
But this time, you don’t even get the chance to reciprocate because he’s now out of your life forever. 
As hot tears land on the thick material lying in your hands, you realize. 
You don’t want that. 
You’re a chaotic ball of action as you scramble to the front. The scarf hangs haphazard around your neck, and your boots barely make it on your feet before you’re bursting through the door. The freezing cold penetrates your pajamas on contact, but you don’t care. You can’t care. All you care about is finding him before it’s too late. You don’t have his number, you don’t know where he works, you don’t even know where he’s from. All that time, he was focused on you and never burdened you with anything about himself. 
Whipping your head both ways, you don’t see his broad back on the sidewalks around your cabin.
Fuck! No no no. He can’t have gotten far. How long did you give him? Time is only a construct to you but a chill settles in your bones when you know you’ve given him enough of a head start. 
Your feet are clunky as you race down to the main lodge. It’s not far from your cabin, which makes you run even harder because there’s a good chance Jin is already checked out and gone by now. 
You’re desperate and running, throat burning cold with the breaths you’re taking on the run.
When you burst into the front doors of the lodge, you swivel your head around to see if he’s at the concierge. There’s some people talking to the clerks and some off to the sides staring at your frazzled look, but no Jin. Not your Jin.
You exit the place with a sharp grunt and scamper to the side of the lodge, the side where the shuttles run. On the way, people in much warmer clothes and skinny pines decked in lights blur on either side of you, all of them shooting strange looks your way. But you can suddenly be running naked for all you care. You just need to find him. 
He has to be there. He has to. If you miss him here, there’s no way you’d catch up to him now. 
When you round the corner and graze your bruise on a bush, you cry out but bloom in relief. 
Jin’s there.
Almost stepping foot on the shuttle. 
Your breaths are ragged and your hair is more appropriate for Halloween instead of winter holidays and the cold is permanently attached to your skin, but you ignore all of that. You ignore everything else.
Because he heard you.
You watch as he turns his head, his body frozen at the foot of the bus doors. You’re limping forward but your heart sprints ahead when Seokjin’s walking fast toward you, face scrunched in concern. 
He starts to ask what’s wrong—because of course he would—but you cut him off with the most impulsive, most truthful feelings you have boiling inside of you. “Idiot! Let me say something.” 
Seokjin just stands there, baffled, just watching as you try to breathe through the pain you feel. 
But despite your bold actions up until this point, you find yourself at a loss. Breathing heavy with exhaustion and adrenaline, you attempt, “Actually, I… I don’t… I don’t really know what to say. I didn’t think I’d get this far.” You swallow with a wince, one eye closed in pain. “But you... You’re so... You’re so rude! So mean! How could you just leave? After what happened last night? That’s no real way to deal with our problems—your problems. Coward! Oh my god, what am I saying? Fuck! What I’m trying to say is...” 
You’re floundering. You’re fumbling. 
“Space! Yes. Space is good. We need it! But… You can’t just leave without talking through stuff. That’s not sustainable! Yeah, I wasn’t the best at communicating but what the fuck are you doing? One more day would be okay. Don’t be such a bitch and just leave like that. I...” 
Seokjin’s just standing there, eyes darting to the scarf around your neck, awestruck. But you know it won’t last long. He’s going to leave. You’ve thoroughly insulted him. He’s going to tell you to fuck off and that he’s going to miss his shuttle and you’re going to lose him forever. Say something! Say anything! 
“Please come back home.” 
What? Why did you say that? Of all the things you could have said, that is the most delusional and weird. You fucked up. It’s over. 
“Shit! I didn’t mean, like, home, but like the cabi—” 
Before you can finish undoing your mistake, all you feel is a hand on your chin before Seokjin slips his mask down to kiss you. 
Your eyes shut, but you’ve never seen so much color in your life. Warmth washes over your bones and frees them from the chill, and your shivers are solely the product of his plush lips on yours. 
The kiss is much shorter than you want it to be, but when you open your eyes, you absolutely melt at the way he’s looking at you. 
“You’re so lame,” Seokjin insults through the warmest smile you’ve ever seen. “But you’re right. I will. Let’s go home.” 
The heavy front door shuts behind Seokjin, and you walk a few paces until you’re standing next to your bedroom, the hallway extending on your other side. Not knowing that you would get this far, you’re suddenly at a loss for words, just reveling in the fact that he’s back. You’re breathing easier. It feels less cramped. 
But as you stare at Jin, who is also just as quiet, you feel a shift in the atmosphere. It seems to fizzle and crack around you, and your bones are thrumming with anticipation. Is it the adrenaline pulsing through your veins? Or is it the look he has in his eyes? All you know for sure is that something is bubbling in your core and you don’t exactly know what to do with it.
“Now I said we should talk,” you start to say, but Seokjin walks with purpose towards you, the look on his face the new one you’ll remember for the rest of your life. 
“But I’m not done yelling at you,” you stutter out, backing up as Jin slips off his mask, revealing a lopsided smile that grows and grows. “Who buys someone a gift and doesn’t even leave his number?” 
He’s still making his way over without a word, and when you feel your back hit the hallway wall, your chest rises with a breath. “It’s not like I missed you or anything,” you whisper, goosebumps jumping from your skin at the palm placed on the wall above your head. “We just need to deal with our... Problems… Like adults.” 
Seokjin’s face is so close, tilted, eyes lidded. Breath ceased, you’re on the brink of another momentous event, and every fibre of your being is standing on high alert. Nothing exists except for the two of you, a whole temporary home to yourselves and yet mere centimeters apart. 
As he speaks, you break. 
“So damn bossy.” 
Your retort dies in his hot mouth, your freezing form instantly pressed into the wall at the same time your arms sling around his neck. Your shoulder blades dig straight through your robe and into the wooden planks, but you barely register the pain as you rake your hands through his hair. His soft, dark locks that you’ve been wanting to caress for days. 
This kiss is much deeper and longer than the one outside, weakening your knees until they threaten to give out. You feel a strong hand grip your hip as the palm next to your head becomes an elbow, Seokjin’s body molding into yours even more. 
You barely care about how your lips mold with his, as long as you keep drinking in his essence and his enticing cologne. His glasses are hard against the bridge of your nose, his tongue even rougher as it laps inside your mouth. Your moan is swallowed instantly, and Seokjin tears himself away to devour the line of your jaw and the shell of your ear. 
“Jin,” you whine, feeling wetness pool between your legs in waves as he starts to thrust his growing hardness into yours. Oh, fuck. How big is he? “Please.” 
“Please what, sweetheart,” he rasps against your slicked neck, making you melt. 
“Bed.” Body ablaze, you’ve been rendered down to basic speech. “Now.” 
Not a single question penetrates your mind other than how quickly you can rip his clothes off before you get to your mattress. Your fingers strain with the way his puffy jacket fights them, and they zoom in on his zipper and tug it much too impatiently as the pair of you burst through your bedroom door.
When you get his zipper undone, Seokjin helps you rip off his jacket, yanking it off of his arms as he’s still attacking your mouth. Before it hits the ground in an unknown location, you already feel fingers undoing the knot of your robe, and you shuck yourself out of it in a rush before the tie fully releases. 
“I need you,” you rush out as you throw your robe to the ground. 
Seokjin grabs your frantic body by the back of your head, smushing his forehead into your sweaty locks. “Then use me.” 
Your nipples pebble as your core flares to life. He thinks you mean something else. “Stop it.” 
He pauses to look at you, confused. 
Revealing your true intention, you consent, “You’ve been nice this whole time. I don’t need you to be nice right now.” 
“Fuck.” Seokjin’s eyes swirl into three shades darker. “Are you sure?”
He grabs you by the back of your neck and roughly takes your mouth, consuming you and grating and clinking his teeth with yours. And you’re swept into his swell immediately, your walls igniting like a hearth has been lit inside. “Then you’re going to do exactly as I say.” 
You don’t say anything, but a slightly tighter grip on the back of your neck gets you to look at him. “And you’re going to use your words. Especially if you need me to stop. Got it?” 
Your reply comes out breathily. “Yes.” 
“Yes,” you say, both shaken at the sudden turn of personality and utterly turned on by it. This whole week, Seokjin had been nothing but nice, agreeable, considerate. But you recall his decisiveness, his ability to take on a commanding presence. Truthfully, you should’ve seen this complete one-eighty coming. But it’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless, and you find yourself wanting to know everything about this version of him.
As soon as you agree to use communication, Seokjin renders you speechless with two firm pats to your cheek. “Good girl,” he breaths out through curved lips, and the way your core swirls is quite alarming. 
Why does that pet name make you whimper? Is it because Seokjin hasn’t spoken in this low tone yet? Is it because he’s still wearing those glasses under his sweaty locks? 
Whatever the case, you’re thoroughly enjoying the turn of events and already feel your essence seeping straight through your underwear.  
Tugging the scarf around your neck, he pulls you closer. “I’m only going to ask one more time: are you sure?” 
“Yes,” you breathe out. “I’m sure.” 
“Good.” After another kiss that rocks you on your feet, he pulls away. “You clean?” 
“Yes. You?” 
“Yeah. Condom?” 
“Yes,” you breathe out again, remembering that you also pre-packed a box especially for this trip. You think a pang of hurt will pierce your heart like all the other reminders did, but nothing comes. “There’s a box in my luggage.” 
Your eyes are searching each other’s then, as if your communication extends far beyond spoken words. And it probably does. 
“If you’re sure,” Seokjin breaks the silence, voice low as he unwinds the scarf from your neck, “I want you naked, sweetheart.” 
You let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding. Gulping, you start thumbing the hem of your pants, flinching when a hand lightly swats yours. 
“Nu uh. Top first.” 
Shuddering at the control Seokjin’s exerting, you feel small as you unbutton the plastic buttons of your pajamas, a feeling you’re extremely not used to. Not that you hate it; you’re more intrigued because you like it. 
As your top is unbuttoned, you slip it down your arms, chest jutting out on instinct as warm fingers graze your nipples. Your gasp is immediate, your breaths deep as Jin continues to squeeze your breasts before tweaking them again. 
“So nice,” he whispers, his eyes lidded behind his glasses and underneath his messy bangs. With a quick slap to your supple mounds, he commands, “On your knees, sweetheart.” 
You’re confused. Didn’t he say he wanted you naked? But you sink to the floor anyway, knowing what comes next and fluttering with anticipation. 
As you’re staring at the bulge in his pants, you're wondering how big he’s going to be when your chin is suddenly snatched in a palm. Your eyes widen as they dart up to his face. 
His words are harsh as he scoffs, “Do you need me to tell you everything? What are you waiting for?” 
Your chin is roughly released, and your cunt actually throbs at the action. It’s borderline degrading. Seokjin’s playing his dominant cards. 
And it’s what you need. As you scramble to undress his lower body, you find that you’re turned on by the fact that someone can tame you like this, control you so abruptly. You’ve been in the position of control for so long that you have been missing this part of your life. 
It’s enjoyable. It’s fun. 
You can have fun. 
Your name is called above your head in the form of a question. When you whip your eyes up, Seokjin’s sincere when he questions, “Are you okay?” 
You didn’t even realize that your hands froze on his pants. You went so far deep into your thoughts that you stopped completely, and Seokjin went right back to being his considerate self. Damn, you’re jealous as hell of the one he’d end up with. You almost want this day to be so memorable that your name takes permanent residence on his lips as much as his heart. 
“Shit, sorry,” you apologize. “I promise it’s nothing bad.” 
“Okay,” he smiles. “As long as you know we can stop if you need to.” 
“I know.” The grin on your face makes him look at you with wonderment. “I’m just having fun.” You’ve never been so sincere in your life. 
Seokjin just huffs in amusement above you, shaking his head. “Don’t let me stop you then, Missus Kim.” 
Something jolts inside of your heart, zipping straight through and leaving you breathless. You know it’s a flippant comment, fleeting, reserved for the rest of your weekly stay. But it also gives you the fuel you need to completely undo Seokjin’s pants and push them down his legs with his underwear. 
As his cock springs out and Jin’s kicking his bottoms across the floor, you’re stunned into shock. Can you even fit it all in your mouth, much less your cunt? Saliva coats your mouth, your body eager to swallow it’s pretty curve, protruding veins, pink, slick tip and all. 
“Suck me off, angel,” Seokjin commands, slicing through your dirty thoughts with even dirtier words. “As deep as you can go.” 
You oblige immediately, having done this a decent amount of times before. You know you aren’t the most experienced, but you know you aren’t lacking. When your hot mouth envelops the salty tip of his cock, you brush your tongue underneath, swiveling your head at the same time. 
Seokjin groans above you, his lusty breath settling into your hair like snow. “That’s it,” he rasps out. “Yes.” 
You’re taking more and more of him with each rock of your head, knowing to lave his length with your tongue to lessen the friction. As you do this, your hands come up to assist, one of them spreading your spit along the base of his cock and the other cradling his balls. 
“Fuck,” he grunts, a hand instinctively twisting into your hair. Your eyes dart up to watch his face scrunch with desire, his glasses slightly fogged and his teeth baring as he hisses, “Holy shit.” 
Goddamn, you love how he looks in those specs. 
“Go deeper for me, sweetheart,” Seokjin commands, slightly pushing the back of your head. When you resist him on instinct, he chuckles darkly, the sound shooting straight into your cunt. “Nu uh. Don’t fight. I know you can do it.” 
You try your hardest to go deeper, tears leaking out of your eyes when his length causes you to gag. Jin tells you to breathe through your nose, so you do, but it only helps so much. When you gag a second time, Jin moans but tugs your head back to let you relax your throat. 
“Try again.” 
Your head is shoved onto his cock soon after, and you moan at how he grips your hair. Relaxed a bit, your throat is able to take more as you continue sucking him off. 
You feel absolutely drenched between your legs, and you want to relieve some of the pressure building. 
But you can’t, because your pants are spread so wide that you can’t reach your cunt. When you go to close them so you can rub your folds, you get a firm pat to your cheek. A moan engulfs Seokjin’s cock in your mouth, and you direct a pleading gaze upwards. 
“You’re so wet, aren’t you?” 
You nod, his dick lodged in your mouth and your slicked hands rubbing the rest of him.
“We’ll get to that,” he teases, eyes crinkling in mischief. “Keep those pretty legs open for me. Just keep sucking.” 
But your cheeks are starting to get sore. In an act of defiance, you tilt your head to suck on his balls instead, your hand thrusting up and down his length in continued pleasure. 
You get three good sucks in before you feel your body being hauled upwards. Not knowing what’s happening, you’re being brought right up to standing level only to be attacked by Seokjin’s scorching mouth. He’s shamelessly seizing your lips, digging his tongue into your throat like he wanted to pull secrets from your depths. You didn’t think anyone would be so nonchalant about tasting themselves, but you don’t mind one bit. 
Your chin is grabbed again, and Jin stares at the hazy look in your eyes when he smirks. “You’re not a brat, are you?”
“I don’t know,” you rasp, throat thoroughly used. “Maybe a little.” 
Fires rage behind Seokjin’s eyes. “Don’t tempt me.” 
You chuckle, but you’re suddenly shoved onto the bed before you feel his strong body climbing on top. “I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls, sticking a firm hand right against your sopping cunt. You moan as he continues talking, “Ever since you held out a vase to my neck.” 
He leaves your body, cold air rushing in his wake. When you lift your head, Seokjin is stripping off his shirt and telling you to sit on the edge of the bed. You’re temporarily stunned by his physique, traveling all of the paved roads and ridges in his skin. It’s almost demotivating to have someone so beautiful in front of you. How are you supposed to compare to this? You suddenly feel incredibly inadequate. 
As you shrivel in on yourself, Seokjin grabs your chin and frowns at you. “None of that,” he bites. “Cover yourself one more time and I’m walking out.” 
He says it so confidently that you can’t discern if he's serious or not, but you don’t want to risk it either way. When your arms snap to your sides, he seems pleased, dropping to his knees and thumbing the hem of your pants. Even though you just sucked his dick, you’re shocked that someone you barely know would pleasure you down there. 
Jin doesn’t seem to care one bit, tossing your garments across the room before prying your legs open. “You’re so wet already,” he observes as you whimper, eyes dark and lidded. Smirking, he roams his gaze over your dripping sex when he proclaims, “I knew it. You like being told what to do, don’t you?” 
You try to clamp your legs on instinct, but Jin’s grip on you doesn’t let you and he can see your pussy clench around nothing, getting his answer and growing his smoulder. “Your pussy can’t lie to me, sweetheart. Let’s be a good girl, too.” 
Dear god. You’re uncovering so many things about yourself that you can’t help but whine and bite your lip. It’s a foreign feeling but you are thoroughly enraptured by his dominance. 
“Open them wider. If you close them, I’m going to stop.” 
You groan in agony, but you do as he says, on full display for him. Other than a low growl, you don’t know what’s happening because your eyes are directed straight at your ceiling. You can barely take the suspen—
As soon as his plush lips make contact with your cunt, you gasp at the sensation and move your legs on instinct. When you feel a swift emptiness in your core, you lift your head to see Jin, lips shining, watching you with a cocked brow. “No, no, please,” you begged, realizing it’s been forever since you have done so. “I couldn’t help it.” 
“Try harder.” 
He dives in again without his hands on your legs, and you have to strain to keep them wide. The way he laps at your folds, sucking on your clit while lolling his hot tongue around it, has you twitching with want and shuddering with exertion. 
Your feet find purchase on the side rails, your toes gripping them as a way to keep you in position. Your hands are gripping the sheets around you so tight that they’re starting to hurt, but you’re so thrown into another plane that nothing else matters but the way Seokjin is pleasuring you. 
You hear a dark rumble, and you can barely make out the words and praises that he is saying, but you swear you hear variations of “beautiful,” “deserving,” “perfect.” None of these words are some you use to describe yourself, so hearing them from a total stranger between your legs makes you preen. 
But he’s not a total stranger. You would go so far as to say he has become someone so dear to your heart that he’s made permanent residence there. It should scare you, but it doesn’t. 
There’s a long, deep thrust of Seokjin’s tongue that has your eyes rolling back. “Oh, my god,” you groan. “Fuck.” 
He chuckles after that, slapping the insides of your thighs. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” 
You moan at the slight pain, your muscles straining to stay in place. When he dives back into your folds, you feel pressure building inside of your core. When he starts inserting his long fingers alongside his tongue, you swear your soul leaves your earthly body entirely. 
What starts as one finger becomes two, then three. You’re hissing as your pussy strains to accommodate each lovely intrusion, the coil in your center winding tighter and tighter. More pressure. Immense pressure. It’s mounting so fast that your eyes are squeezing shut and your breath leaves you in short puffs. “Jin,” you plead. “I’m so close.” 
Instead of responding verbally, Seokjin pulls away from your throbbing cunt, making your chest cave in. 
“Please,” you beg, eyes pricked at the corners. “Jin, please.” 
“You disobeyed me earlier.” 
His voice is flat and cold again, and you stop every movement of your body. When did you disobey? Oh, yes. Why did he care about that?
“So you don’t get to come just yet.” 
“No! No, no,” you try to sit yourself up on your elbows, but they’re so shaky from clutching the bed for so long. “Please.” 
There’s a swift, slight pat to your cunt, and you buck your hips with a gasp. 
“A no’s a no, angel,” Seokjin explains loftily. “Now get up. To the headboard.” 
When you drag your shaking bones upward, your eyes shut with the effort. Your legs absolutely burn as much as your arms, but you’ve never experienced something so therapeutic in your life. 
Seokjin stands before pausing to rake his eyes up your sprawled, naked form. You’re sure you look absolutely exhausted, but you can’t bring it in yourself to even move. He clears his throat before asking, “Where’s your luggage?” 
“Over here,” you lazily point to the side of your bed closer to the window, dropping your arm when he goes over to retrieve the box of condoms. When he looks into your suitcase, you can tell when he sees the lingerie you also pre-packed to wear for another special occasion. 
You’re glad he doesn’t address it.
Ripping a wrapper open and sheathing himself into the condom, Seokjin takes off his glasses and sets them on the carved nightstand you have. Shortly after doing so, he crawls to position himself over your body. 
The man is silent, and you give him a curious look, expecting another order or command. 
When he notices your stare, he simply states, “Oh. Yeah. I really just wanna be inside of you right now.” 
You outright laugh at his behavior, hating and loving the way he switched off his act because he just got too impatient to have you. “Anticlimactic as hell.” 
“Oh, yeah?” He wedges his cock between your folds, and you gasp at how thick he is. He only has the tip inside and you’re already huffing out. “How about now?”  
“Shut up,” you gasp, evening out your breathing and trying to relax your cunt. “Fuck, you’re big.” 
“And you’re tight,” he winces, voice strained as he’s slowly guiding himself inside. “Damn.”
When his length fully slides inside, your walls flutter and pulse around him as they get used to his size. You’re focused on the way his dark locks stick to his forehead, the way he’s watching your face for cues to stop, the way his hand purposefully avoids the bruise on your hip. He’s filling you with more than just himself; there are emotions spilling into your heart that you’re forcing at a distance. 
“Okay,” you wheeze, “You can go now.” 
Seokjin huffs out a laugh. “You got it, Miss Bossy.” 
The retort you want to unleash transforms into a yelp as he launches into a deep thrust, filling you to the brim and shoving you closer to the headboard. Your mouth falls open as he keeps going, slowly increasing his pace and watching your breasts bounce with his movements. 
Your arms quickly grasp at his biceps, your nails digging into his skin as your legs burn from tensing, squeezing his smooth hips as he pounds into you. 
“You feel so good,” he grunts, his head dipping to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You moan as he swirls his hot tongue around the peak, and you cry out as he gives it a rough bite. When he travels to the other one, Seokjin brings a hand to pinch the wet nip he left behind, and the mix of sensations all over your body are driving you dangerously close to the edge. 
You’re crying out his name, and your hands wind up on the expanse of his back, dragging pretty red lines along his rippling muscles. 
At this, Seokjin growls, smushing his body into yours so he can change your positions. 
When you end up on top, you appear confused. 
Underneath your buzzing form, Seokjin simply smiles as he slowly sits up, signaling for you to let him rearrange his back against the headboard. “Go on, sweetheart. I know you like it up there.” 
Again, he’s right, like he’s known you for years. You get to see his flushed cheeks, his messy hair, his chest red with exertion, and the scratches you imprinted on the beautiful canvas that’s his body. His muscles ripple with every breath he takes, and you feel a certain power when you straighten your body and he zeroes in on your sex. His mouth hangs with want and you know yours is doing the same until you hiss with the feeling of being filled even more than before.
It’s always completely different from this position but, with Seokjin, you’re finding that you’re enjoying it a lot more. Just like how he’s made you enjoy a lot of things more than normal, or at all. 
You sink onto him and feel much fuller than before, almost as if he’s pushing right into your stomach. But holy hell, it feels amazing and you love seeing your temporary lover throw his head against the headboard at the feel of your pussy suctioning his cock inside. 
Temporary. You don’t have him to yourself forever. 
This thought is what fuels you to ride him like you need to pay for the entire resort. You want to be remembered. You want to give him everything. Swirling your hips around, you mix your actions and never stay in the same motions for too long. Your legs burn as you lift yourself, slamming your cunt onto his cock with wet slaps.
“Fuck!” Seokjin’s hands grip your thighs, looking like he’s trying to collect himself while still watching you—failing. “You’re so perfect.” 
You have more to give. You’re not done with him yet. Bold, you shove his hands away from your thighs and throw them down onto the bed. 
When Seokjin opens his eyes and looks temporarily confused, it’s your turn to smile. “No touching. If you touch, I’ll stop.”
Having his words used against him, Jin’s face turns heavily primal and amused. You don’t think you’ve ever been so attracted to someone in your life. He seems proud as his voice comes out gravelly, “I knew you’d be bossy, but I didn’t expect this.” 
“You like it.” 
“I love it.” 
With his hands obedient on the sheets, yours find his broad shoulders for purchase as you start rolling your hips, pushing yourself up and finding a rhythm. While you ride him in earnest, you watch as it’s visibly harder and harder for him to obey. The veins on his neck look enticing as they angrily protrude, and you kitten lick them to earn a moan.
Having control in the bedroom is just as enjoyable as submitting, you muse. Watching Jin go from a place of power to a hissing, groaning mess underneath you is making you feel things you should probably address never. 
You bite your lip hard as you see his grip on the sheets tighten, the veins on his forearms raised and aggravated. Licking your lips, you travel your eyes along those veins, all the way up to his shaking biceps and heaving chest. 
His cock throbs inside of you, the ridges tickling your walls deliciously and causing you to moan and grit your teeth. Your thighs start to burn with the effort you’re exerting to ride him, but watching him lose control underneath you just fuels you to keep going through the strain. Impulsively, you wrap your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer, immediately feeling his harsh breaths roll between your collarbones. 
“Please,” he begs, making your lips flutter around his cock, “Let me touch you.” 
“No,” you simply say, earning a groan. 
“Fuck, just...” Jin looks like he’s going to tear you apart any second now. His arms are vibrating and his fingers are paling around the fabric of the bed. “Please. I need to.”  
“No,” you say with a smile, knowing that it will piss him off. 
You fully expect him to say fuck it and do what he wants with you, fully expect him to take over. But when he doesn’t—even though it looks like he would disintegrate if he didn’t—you’re so turned on that you can’t help but relent. 
As soon as you give him the go-ahead, your breath gets taken out as Seokjin growls and immediately has your hips in a vice grip. This time, his hand connects with your bruise a bit, but you don’t mind. Instantly, he breathes out, “Relax that tight cunt for me.” 
When you do as he says, you cry out as Jin starts an absolute onslaught, thrusting you far down onto his cock and pushing into you at the same time. His pace is quick, hard, unrelenting, and he holds you in place with his arms as he thrusts up into you again and again and again. 
Your body goes limp, only a vessel for him to pleasure. You’ve never felt this out of control in your life and it’s thrilling. Electrifying. You aren’t sure if something is wrong with you with the way you feel so strongly about it. 
You don’t know a single thing except his name, and god, but those are interchangeable at this point because he’s elevated you so high above the Earth that you aren’t sure if anything can bring you back down. You don’t know what your hands are trying to accomplish, their actions frantic and erratic around his neck, in his hair, squeezing his pecs, leaving love roads along his flushed skin. You feel something wind tighter and tighter inside of you, and your eyes squeeze shut as the sensation flares and takes your breath away bit by bit.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Jin grits, his voice akin to feet scraping across the rocks outside your front door. “Just like that.” 
“Jin, I—” Your whines and moans have to be annoying at this point, but with one look at your lover’s brows and bared teeth, you dash that thought away. Your thighs are on fire, just like the hearth burning in your chest. “My legs—” 
Immediately, Seokjin leans forward, the way he pushes you down into the bed sending lust straight between your legs. “I got you,” he murmurs, a sweaty elbow digging into the sheets at your ear. His cock still pushes inside of you, but he slips into a slower, deeper, more tantalizing pace.  
“I know,” you whisper in return, your body rolling and singing with each long thrust he’s granting you. It’s so rough but so tender that, for a quick second, you wonder if this is what people mean by making love. “I know you do.” 
The ghost of a smile appears under Jin’s sweaty bangs and flushed face, and for the upteenth time, you pull him down for a searing kiss. He obliges tenfold, tongue exploring you just as his cock does, head turning to deepen the kiss more than you thought possible. When he breaks from you, he nudges your jaw to the side to leave fire along its curve, licking heat all along your neck and making your nipples pebble under his flexing chest. 
You’re a throbbing, sweaty mess under him as he starts upping his pace again, and your moans pierce the ceiling above you as your body goes completely limp. You give him everything. He deserves everything. Holy fuck, he deserves more than everything. 
Your hands find purchase on his shoulders before you’re scratching him, and Seokjin growls out, “Wrap your legs around me.”
When you try your best to, your lover tilts his body up and strains his arm muscles, the new position letting his cock penetrate you even further. You’re gasping at the feel and kicking your head back in need, throwing an arm back and gripping the side of the mattress behind your head for balance. 
The both of you cry out to each other, wordless.  
It’s messy, it’s raw, but it’s the purest form of communication you know and the way you can get each other to truly understand what you want to say. 
You’re thanking him for being there for you, he’s telling you that he’s going to keep doing so. You’re telling him how much you appreciate the way he saved you from loneliness in this temporary home, he’s thanking you for calling him out and yanking him back inside. You’re screaming at him for being too nice to you when you truly don’t deserve it, and he’s crying out that you’re deserving of everything. 
You want to tell him you feel more for him than should be appropriate. 
You feel him reach between your legs to swipe at your clit, and your legs flop back onto the bed in shock. The coil in your body winds and winds, almost to the point of anguish if it doesn’t burst soon. “Jin,” you gasp, “I’m close.” 
“I can feel it, babe,” he rasps out, and you shiver at the name. “You’re so tight around me, fuck.” 
“I can’t… I can’t—” 
Jin reaches to tweak one of your nipples, his head descending to lap at your neck and snag your ear. One final motion has his hand closing around your throat, and your eyes blow wide with lust as the feeling has you reeling towards your orgasm. With his voice rough in your ear, he commands, “Come for me, angel.” 
And it’s enough. More than enough. Your cry tears from your mouth as your body shakes with release, gushing your desire around him and spilling onto your thighs. Seokjin groans as he watches with lidded eyes, his thrusts slow and deep, milking out your orgasm and throbbing inside your folds. Your cheeks are completely hot but you find that his stare heats them even further, his shameless observation of your trembling body enough to make you think you’re worth something. 
When your high ebbs, you start to feel his cock twitch with want. By the way his thrusts become spastic and stuttered, you know he’s close. So you yearn for him to come. Fuck a temporary home, you give him the world. The universe. The universe that’s not done with you, you give it up to the man right in front of your glossy eyes. 
And he hugs you tight when he comes, his groan swirling around your ear and consuming your brain, rewiring it to only sense him and exist in this room. This space. Right in his arms. His body tenses and you can feel his cock release his essence. You regret nothing. You thank yourself for bringing him back to you. This selfless, annoying, fantastic soul that you want to hold onto until you part tomorrow. 
“You’re so perfect,” he whispers as he comes back down to cover your body, capturing your disagreement and never letting it leave your lips. While his elbow still remains by your face, his other hand grips your waist. You’re okay until you feel his forehead meet your own. “So, so perfect.” 
You don’t realize you’re crying until your sob shocks both of you, and Seokjin slowly lifts his sweaty head to look at you in earnest. 
When you see that he’s crying, too, your throat burns with a need to wipe any sadness from his life forever. It’s okay to cry, but you don’t think it’s ever okay for him to have a reason to. 
And you tell him this, to which he only chuckles before giving you another heartstopping kiss. The previous ones have made you float, but this one outright curls your toes, tenses your limbs, elevates your body to a higher place. You feel a rush of emotions you didn’t know existed and, just for a second, it’s hard to imagine you ever feeling like that again. 
Or ever living without him. 
But you fold that emotion up and wrap it in a bow, just for safekeeping under a tree you’ll come back to visit when you’re feeling down.
Because of course this is temporary. Both of you have separate lives to live when this vacation is done. You don’t even know where he lives, what his real life is like, though you have the strongest urge to learn all there is about him.
“Let’s clean up,” he whispers before kissing your nose. And after the both of you take care of yourselves in the master bath, comfortable silence and all, you find yourselves right back in each other’s arms amongst rumpled, love-worn sheets.  
Finally, the two of you talk, letting the conversation flow wherever it goes. Both of you talk through your breakups, listening attentively to the other and only offering small words of encouragement to keep going. You don’t know if it’s the best topic of conversation after sex, but you know it’s necessary. 
Later, when you think about it, being naked and baring your souls to each other seems entirely appropriate. 
In fact, you realize that you start to not feel so strongly about your breakup anymore. It’s a lingering thought in the back of your mind, but it’s definitely been shoved away by the curiosity you have about the man with his full lips in your hair. 
After a long, cathartic spew of words, you continue to talk about everything else. Nothing to do with your exes, nothing to do with broken hearts or uncertain futures. 
At one point, Seokjin admits that he saw how you looked naked the first night before covering his eyes. When you groan at the memory, he sheepishly follows up with saying that he thought you were pretty, and he almost came in his swim trunks when he saw you in your swimsuit yesterday.
Even though any ex talk is out the cold window, you still can’t help but ask, “What did you have planned for tonight? I remember you said you didn’t have anything until the last night.”
“Oh, that?” Seokjin looks up in thought. “Just a dinner. Wine night.” 
You know it wasn’t as simple as that, but you suggest, “Wine night? Why didn’t you say so before? I’d be down for that.” 
He chuckles lightly before divulging, “I cancelled it when I checked out this morning.” 
“Ah… Damn. That’s all I wanted to do this week, honestly.” 
“Seriously? Why didn’t you say so!” 
“Don’t act like that wasn’t your fault,” you retort, lightly nudging his shoulder. “All I wanted to do was spend my Christmas with a bottle of wine and sappy holiday movies.” 
Seokjin whips his head toward you, the glasses he recently put on showing your naked reflection. “I’ve been doing that this whole week.” 
“No way.”
“It’s true. You were always just in your room.” 
You can’t refute that. If only you opened up sooner. Those nights spent by yourself when you weren’t truly alone seem like an absolute waste now. Your shoulders sag with regret. 
“Hey.” You feel your chin being lifted. “We can still have our own wine night. I think there’s a bottle left in the pantry. I say we deserve it, yeah?” 
Your chest explodes with a foreign emotion. An emotion you previously thought unattainable. “We sure fucking do.” 
Hours later, when you’re still smiling and shaking your head at the comments Seokjin’s making at each movie you watch, your cheeks are as warm as the feeling that perseveres in your chest. 
And hours after that, when you find yourself back between the sheets and in his arms, the burden between your legs is divine. 
But the heavier burden on your heart is another story.
Tumblr media
DAY 7 
When the last day rolls around, the first thing you do when you wake is try to make it many, many hours longer.
But you know that’s not possible. You can’t live in this cabin for eternity. You can’t stay with the man you just woke up with forever. 
Your luggage is all packed, and the scarf around your neck is suffering from your duress. As you hear Seokjin roll his suitcase down the hallway, your heart seizes up in sorrow. 
His flight is earlier than yours, so he’s leaving ahead of you. You already exchanged numbers, already surprised each other with passionate kisses in the cabin, and already hugged for a bit longer than appropriate. 
When Seokjin leaves, for real this time, he tells you that everything will be okay. 
Impulsive, again, you ask if there’s a chance. If there’s a chance for you to see each other again. If there’s a chance for you both to prove what you both said if you dated each other that dark and hushed night. 
“Do you want there to be?” 
“I…” You nod, firm. “I think I do.” 
“Then we’ll make another deal.” 
Your eyes are glossy as you regard him, and you can feel your heart tugging him closer. 
“Until you know for sure,” Seokjin says, hand holding one of your cheeks. “We’ll take the time we need. Okay?” 
You know he’s right. As strongly as you feel for him now, you’re both still wounded. It will take time to heal, and you don’t want to rush into another relationship while that’s something you’re both dealing with. 
It’s smart. It’s calculated. It’s logical. 
You didn’t think he had it in him. 
Seokjin tugs the scarf he bought around you tighter, smiling with stars in his eyes. “I never liked this color,” he admits, “But I like it on you.” 
“Noted,” you respond, fighting back tears as he kisses your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead—holding strong until he captures your lips. You lean forward as Jin finally pulls away, and you slowly move to the front to walk him out.
You know you have to give each other space. Give each other time. 
But as the door shuts behind him, your heart hammers against your chest, tears leak out of your eyes as you place a fist on the worn wood. 
Because fuck any deals. Fuck any logic. 
You’ve never been so sure about anything in your life.
So you hope, with all the power in your soul, that Seokjin feels the exact same. 
Days and days and days from now.
Tumblr media
DAY 358
You jingle your keys until you find the right one, and you twist it into the lock before slipping inside. 
Holiday music slides through the many rooms of the house, mingling with the scent of gingerbread and pine. Your cheeks burn from being outside for too long, and as they settle into a neutral temperature, you make your way to the kitchen. 
You pass an island, humming along to the song playing until you set your things on the round table.
“What are you doing?” 
You turn in shock, panic slipping into familiarity when you see your very wet boyfriend with a towel wrapped around his waist. At the sight, a laugh bubbles from your throat, because it brings you back to a year before. The time when you met that feels so long ago now. 
You don’t purposefully recall the slew of wonderful events that occurred in the last year, but your mind can’t help but default to the positives when you’re soaking in Jin’s presence. Raising your hands, you beckon your love closer—he is definitely very wet and naked underneath the material around his waist. 
Did everything really start with the engagement that happened last month? Or did the chain of fortunate and miraculous events begin way before then? In any case, you don’t have a clear answer and, being the person you are now, not having an answer is perfectly normal and okay. 
Among other things, you’re also loved, so you remember everything Seokjin had done for you while succumbing to the tender feel of his lips on yours. 
For starters, he asked you out when you thought you were being fired—that alone deserved its own plaque and diatribe on your personal wall of revenge. But Seokjin decided that you needed further embarrassment, so you weren’t allowed to retract your acceptance, everyone you knew was told to keep quiet, his stunt made you late to work, you were being congratulated every five minutes, and a searing kiss when you got home was the cherry on top of that cake.
You shudder from the way his hands travel up your body. Maybe this is karma for having a life that went completely hellish for a period of time. 
Feet scrape the kitchen floor as you bend your legs, further ministrations making your head nestle between your fiance’s neck and shoulder. 
Your dates always ended between the sheets, you called and texted nonstop, you kept polaroids of each other, there was a period of waiting and yearning, and when you finally got your keys to the same place, you made your way to your home and almost slipped on the pavement, avoiding bruising any hips or scraping the hand adorned with your engagement ring. 
“You’re so silly,” you laugh suddenly, realizing that he didn’t know what was happening. As you turn to admire the chaotic gingerbread house on the kitchen island and the tiny trophies littered around the counters, you ask, “Who did you think I was?” 
“I heard a noise so I came running,” he scoffs. “You should just appreciate your lover’s fast instincts.” 
“I don’t see a weapon anywhere, love. How were you going to defend yourself?” 
“Don’t you know, Missus Kim? My looks can kill.” 
“I hate you,” you sigh, undoing the towel and letting it drop to the floor. “But I agree with that, Mister Kim.” 
And that brings you here: swept into Seokjin’s arms, laughing with glee and overcome with happiness, and contemplating what the hell you both did to deserve it.
Tumblr media
A/N: AHHH well, here is my contribution to the christmas in july collab! i hope you enjoyed it as much as i loved writing it. dear goodness me, i loved writing this seokjin and reader so damn much. if you made it to the end, thank you endlessly! my dms and inbox are always open if you wanna chat about any of my stories, and here is my masterlist if you would like to browse❄️
taglist (thank you all for your interest and support! it means so much to me, always<3): @taejinnies​ @shrimpmsg​ @trustingofwinds​ @missgeniality​ @propinqxity​ @yourbibillyhills​ @bangtanhome​ @abyssnamedaeri​ @taeescript​ @rrrrap-monster​ @supernoonanyc​ @lcksndkys​ @moonchild1​ @hantaev​ @ladyartemesia​ @bringmetheksj​ @jinscharms​ @shameless-army​ @ruwaidahmulla @kaepjjangiya​ 
912 notes · View notes
jikookao3recs · a day ago
friends to lovers (part 2)
Silk, Spice and Everything Nice by wonce_km
cross my heart by serendiplini
your pretty, pretty makeup. by naturallyvante
of mosquito nets (and zero regrets) by CalicoChimmy
from yesterday, for tomorrow by pieces
my heart was built for you by pjm_prmise
La stagione delle arance by crimsongravedigger
Whenever He Calls My Name by pearlaquabomb
Never Not by minfics (orphan_account)
Lights, Camera, by busansfairies
teach me, love me by aphrodeity
30,000 foot view by pieces
Kids and Love by rebus
bndwboy by whenIseeUsmile
we kiss like lovers (and laugh like best friends) by jiimbles
the cat's in the bag by fatal (cumrich)
Wish You Were Here by orphan_account
love, the shoreline where you and i meet by serendiplini
Run Into Sin by eumorious
bone appétit by flitter
i glow pink in the night by fatal (cumrich), jonghyunslisterine
teach me how to pray, how to say your name by MyHope (CutesyMe)
Moves Like Magic by eumorious
29 notes · View notes
syubseokie · 17 days ago
jealous (m) | jjk
Tumblr media
jealous (m) | jjk
― pairing: fem!reader x jungkook (jeon jungkook); fem!reader x vmin if you squint
― genre: established relationship!au, non-idol!au, smut
― warnings: age gap (2 years), swearing, alcohol, jealous!reader x jealous!jungkook, noona kink (sorry not sorry), explicit sexual content, softdom!jungkook, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, overstimulation, light choking, squirting, creampie
― summary: reader is jungkook’s hot older girlfriend and is well-acquainted with the clubbing lifestyle. Along with yoongi, hoseok, jimin and taehyung, they head out to one of the clubs where jungkook fights an internal battle regarding his girlfriend.
the one where our reader has a ‘noona’ kink and jungkook almost fucks her in an elevator
― notes: this is a re-written version of my 2015 story that you can find here. loosely inspired by nick jonas & tinashe’s ‘jealous (remix)’ (2016) and man-bun!jungkook | cross-posted from ao3
Friday night.
You carefully apply a coat of what you have dubbed your favourite ‘black like my soul’ lipstick, then place a tissue between your plump lips. “How far away are you and the boys?” you ask into your cell phone that sits atop your vanity dresser. You closely examine your painted lips in the mirror, liking what you see.
Perfect, you smirk.
“We’re around the corner,” a deep voice on the other end of the core replies and your core clenches in memory of the face the voice belongs to. “Are you almost ready?”
Stepping back to admire your reflection, you smooth down the wrinkles in your skirt and turn on every angle to see if anything is out of place. “I’m just doing my final touches,” you answer, raising the volume of your voice just a tiny bit so they can hear. “Do you want to beep and I’ll come out, or did you want to come inside first?” You begin to pack the necessary makeup, your ID, and credit cards into a small purse.
Some rustling on the other end is heard before the male responds, “We’ve actually just pulled up in front of your apartment if you’re ready.”
Checking your reflection one last time and sending a quick selfie with the caption ‘guess who’s going out tonight?’, you switch your bedroom lights off, then proceed to make sure that all the necessary electrical switches around your apartment are turned off as well. “I’m just locking up now and I’ll be down in less than two.”
“Okay then, noona,” the voice says, “see you soon.”
“Is she on her way down?” Jimin asks, squinting out the car window for any sign of the female.
Jungkook makes a humming noise as he ends the call and slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “She’s just locking up.”
“Are you excited, Kook?” The excited grin Taehyung wears matches the energy in his voice. “This is your guys’ first time clubbing together, right?”
The youngest male shrugs with nonchalance, hiding his nerves.
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Jimin exclaims. “He gets to show off his hot, older girlfriend.”
Even before the two of you had started dating, Jungkook knew you were a social butterfly that thrived on having your Friday and Saturday filled with drinks and dancing. It is how we met after all, he muses. Your reputation for getting “turnt up”, as Taehyung had once so eloquently put it, was renowned within the group, and it was common knowledge that you were a “go hard or go home!” type of party person.
A smack on his shoulder brings Jungkook out of his thoughts and Jimin points out the window. “Here she comes.”
Hoseok, who is sitting in the driver’s seat as the night’s DSD (Designated Sober Driver), whistles in appreciation.
“Better watch your girl,” Taehyung jesters, wiggling his eyebrows.
Jungkook glances out the window and he can’t help that the sight of you exiting the building makes the area around his crotch a just a little bit tighter.
You look drop-dead hot and you know it. Sauntering towards the vehicle wearing a black velvet spaghetti strap mini dress and your ‘step on my neck’ thigh high stilettos in the same colour, you know the boys are looking at you and you can’t help but add a little more sway to your hips as a smirk graces your dark lips. The front passenger seat window rolls down to reveal Yoongi giving you a once-over.
“Is it too late to say I like pussy?” he jokes, and you playfully twirl like you’re on a catwalk; revealing a cheeky glimpse of your backside and the thin black material that sits comfortably between your round cheeks.
“Only if Hoseok joins.”
The car door opens and Jungkook steps out, looking absolutely delectable in a light charcoal gray suit with his freshly dyed purple locks pulled back in a bun. The two of you share a hungry look, and as you slide into the car, Jungkook is tempted to pull you back out and drag you back into your apartment.
“Gentlemen,” you greet, putting your seatbelt on, “How are we all?”
They greet you excitedly, complimenting your look for the night.
“It’s giving Ariana Grande’s ‘Break up with your Boyfriend.” Taehyung muses, childishly snapping the strap of your dress. “Spicy.”
You roll your eyes and focus your attention on the boy sitting next to you. A genuine, soft smile appears on your face as you take Jungkook’s hand and place a kiss on his tattooed knuckles. “Hi baby,” you whisper softly, resting your head in the crook of his neck.
He squeezes your hand affectionately, loss for words, when the black choker around your neck catches his eye and he zeroes in on the small diamante initials dangling in the centre.
His brain short-circuits and his pants grow uncomfortably tighter. The sound of your voice saying his name brings him out of his stupor and his gaze quickly travels down your form, soaking you in. When his eyes meet yours, he notices the pink in your cheeks and the slight hitch in your breath when his fingers reach up to touch the material around your neck.
“Do you like it?” Your words are barely audible, only loud enough for him to hear, and he nods before pressing a soft kiss on your forehead and wrapping you under his arm.
“You look beautiful, noona.”
You preen at the compliment, but you can’t help but notice that there is something off. You are not sure how or what it is, but the slight twitch in his pierced brow and the clenched fist on his lap has you concerned. “Jungkook,” you cup his face, bringing his attention to your slightly worried face. “Are you alright? You seem a little on edge?”
He isn’t sure how to answer but he feels awful when he sees your eyebrows stitch together in uncertainty. “I’m fine,” he reassures. He un-clenches his fist and caresses the apple of your cheeks. Your eyes close and you lean into his soft touch; the smell of him overwhelming your senses with comfort and longing. “Just a little tired, that’s all. I’ll be fine once we get to the club.” He boops your nose affectionately, breaking into a smile that warms your heart and the space between your legs.
You return his smile and whisper playfully into his ear, “We don’t have you go out tonight if you don’t want to. I’m happy just to stay home and have our own little birthday celebration.”
“We already did,” his tone matches the sultriness in your own, “On my actual birthday night, remember?”
You smirk knowingly. “Oh, I remember. And I won’t argue against skipping tonight if we get to do it again.”
A gagging noise breaks the obvious sexual tension between the two of you, and you both turn to glare at Jimin who is staring back at you with a semi-disgusted look on his face. “I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you two get up to in the room but unless you’re inviting all of us, please don’t make me privy to it.”
You grin mischievously. “All you have to do is ask, Park.”
His cheeks are red with embarrassment - and arousal, which he will vehemently deny - and you send him a flirty wink and air kiss before settling back into Jungkook’s embrace. The light touch of your lips on his cheeks and the cheers from your friends as Taehyung passes around a flask is enough to calm Jungkook’s nerves.
The club is as busy as expected. You weren’t really one to skip lines, but seeing that you actually knew one of the bouncers ― “Namjoon!” you cry happily, engulfing the tall blond in your arms and placing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Your eyes bulge at his solid chest. “Since when did you get these?” ― you and the boys were lucky enough to bypass the thirty minute wait and get a free round of drinks from the Bar Manager and Namjoon’s boyfriend, Seokjin.
Jungkook won’t admit it, but your friendly personality and knack for knowing everyone did have its benefits.
However, standing at the bar next to Yoongi and Hoseok watching you and the dynamic duo grind to the beat of whatever generic pop remix the DJ is spinning, does nothing to placate the irritated feeling in his chest. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens and his left eye twitches when you grind your backside provocatively against Taehyung’s belt and Jimin slides his thigh between your legs. Your arms are wrapped around Jimin’s neck loosely and your head is thrown back against Taehyung’s shoulder while his hands rest comfortably on your hips, guiding them along to the beat of the music.
“I know that look,” Seokjin says loudly as he rests his arms on the counter, slightly scaring the younger male. “Think of it this way; at least she’s not doing that with two complete strangers.”
Jungkook’s frown deepens as he takes a sip of the strong drink. “I would rather her not be doing that with anyone at all.”
Yoongi side-eyes Jungkook with concern. “Are you alright kid? You seemed upset earlier this evening.”
“It’s nothing.” Jungkook waves his hand dismissively before finishing his drink. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, encouraging the younger to speak. “It’s just that...” he sighs, unsure of how to continue, “I know the three of them have history―”
“The three of them have been friends for a very long time,” Hoseok, his chin resting on Yoongi’s shoulder, interrupts with a comforting, but firm, smile. “I know where your mind is at, JK, but Yoongi and I have also known her just as long as those two have. Trust us. Trust them.
“Trust her.” Yoongi finishes, sending Hoseok a thankful smile and subtly rubbing the back of his hand with his thumb.
Jungkook casts another look out onto the dance floor and sees you sandwiched between Taehyung and Jimin, head thrown back in full laughter as they lead you in a very awkward yet hilarious three-person tango.
Sighing guiltily, he scans the nearest bathroom and tells his friends he’ll be right back. Thankfully there is no line and he nods at the security guard standing in front of the bathroom door. It is empty inside so he quickly relieves himself then washes his hands. As he pulls his hair into a small ponytail ― “Man bun,” he hears you chide with a small giggle ― letting a few tendrils frame his face, he stares at his reflection.
Come on man, he scolds, get it together.
He splashes some water on his face, and then with one final look in the mirror for confidence, he exits the bathroom. He immediately spots Hoseok and Yoongi on the dance floor with you, and his eyes soften as he watches the four males cheer and hype you up. He is undeniably in love with you, and when he locks eyes with you amongst the crowd, your lips curling into a coaxing smirk, he feels the blood from his head rush down to the semi-hard appendage in his pants.
He begins to make his way through the crowd when suddenly, he feels a light tap on his shoulder.
Confused, he turns around and is greeted by a petite female he doesn’t recognise.
“Sorry,” she says, nervously biting her lips, “I don’t mean to bother you…” she casts a quick look backwards.
“Are you okay?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern. He follows her gaze, trying to see what she is looking at or looking for, but the woman is already facing him. She steps closer to him and he forces himself to remain in his spot. “Is something wrong?”
She lowers her head hesitantly and Jungkook has to bend to hear her, “My ex is at the bar and has been harassing me all night.”
Not one to leave someone unhelped, Jungkook scans the area for any available security. “Do you need me to call security?”
“No!” she cries, confusing him. Before he can react, she grabs his hands and places them on her hips before wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself closer. “He’s not dangerous, just persistent. If he sees me dancing with someone else, he’ll leave me alone.”
“Oh.” Jungkook gulps nervously and he can feel his hands getting clammy. “Um…” he tries to inconspicuously wipe his hands on her dress, but the movement is misconstrued when the female takes it as a sign to press her body closer to his.
“I should probably go and help him,” you sigh pitifully, watching your sweet, sweet boyfriend struggle to politely remove the woman’s arms wrapped around his neck. You can’t help but feel a certain type of way as your eyes rake over Jungkook’s toned figure. His shirt sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows, revealing his tattoos, and your mouth salivates at the sight. Never have you been so attracted to someone before.
It’s something you consider making very clear to the woman trying to seduce your boyfriend on the dance floor.
“Is that a hint of jealousy I hear in your voice?” Taehyung jokes as he and Jimin stand either side of you, also watching the scene in front of them. The three of you are resting against a wall that gives you a full visual of the dance floor, while Yoongi and Hoseok have wandered to the bathroom.
“Please. I don’t get jealous.”
As if mocking you, the DJ smoothly transitions the current set into Nick Jonas and Tinashe’s remix of ‘Jealous’, and your two friends snicker at the irony.
“I think both the universe and the DJ disagrees with you.”
“Don’t make me stab you with my heel, Kim.”
He has the audacity to wink. “Wouldn’t be the first time, babe.”
“I’ll make sure it hurts this time.”
“Promises, promises,” he tuts, running a hand through his honey-blonde locks.
“If you two are finished sharing your pain kinks,” Jimin interrupts with an eye roll at your antics, “I think our golden boy might actually need rescuing.”
Landing one last jab in your friend’s abdomen, you redirect your attention back to your boyfriend. Your eyes narrow when the female whispers in his ear, a flirtatious smile painting her red lips, before she spins and seductively slides her body down his front and then slowly grinds her backside back up his leg.
Wordlessly, you push yourself off the wall and make your way towards Jungkook, leaving Jimin and Taehyung watching you maneuver through the crowd. They admire the way your presence alone has people seamlessly moving out of your way.
“The power she holds…” Jimin murmurs.
Taehyung nods in agreement, licking his lips.
Jungkook is frozen when the woman turns around and faces him once again, her chest against his and her lips dangerously close to his neck. He doesn’t deny that the woman in his arms is attractive, but the strong scent of her perfume tingles his nasal senses in a not-so-nice way, and he fights the urge to sneeze.
She peers up at him with a small, flirtatious smile. “I’m sorry for coming so strongly onto you like this,” she purrs, and Jungkook notes that the coquettish lilt in her tone is anything but apologetic. “But I really appreciate you coming to my rescue.”
I didn’t though, Jungkook thinks to himself. His fists clench at his side. “It’s not a problem…” he curses the way he stumbles over his words. “Do you think your ex has left yet?”
The woman hums, throwing an all-too-quickly half-hearted look over her shoulder before returning her attention back to the young male. “No, he’s still there. We’ll just have to keep dancing until he gets bored.” Her eyes flutter innocently. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Uh…” Before Jungkook can even think of a reply, he feels an arm slide between his and gently grab his hand. The touch is familiar and Jungkook visibly relaxes as you stand next to him and uncurl his fist to interlace his fingers with yours. “Noona…” he breathes in relief.
To anyone looking, the smile on your face appears warm and easy-going. But Jungkook recognises the look in your eye, and he’s torn between being grateful or nervous. “Baby,” you coo, placing a soft kiss on Jungkook’s cheek that has him blushing at the public display of affection. “Who’s your friend?”
The woman pauses, the frown on her face declaring her obvious unhappiness at your presence, then folds her arms defensively. “We were just dancing.”
The woman falters. “When what?”
“When did I ask?” Your tone is sharp, scathing, as you finally turn your attention to her and raise a perfectly arched brow; silently daring her to speak.
Like something out of a K-drama scene, the female scoffs. “Who are you? His girlfriend?”
You almost laugh at the cheesiness. Thanks to the inches in your heels, you stand a few centimetres taller than her, making your presence that more intimidating. “As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Is he not allowed to dance with other women?” she sneers and you sigh, bored.
Deciding to ignore the woman altogether, you gaze at Jungkook, who is staring back at you adoringly, your free hand creeping up his back to lightly graze the back of his neck. You ask, “Home time?” and he nods fervently. Without sparing another glance at the female, you lead Jungkook by the hand. Just like Jimin and Taehyung, he is in awe at how your presence parts the crowd on the floor like the Red Sea.
The two of you reach the rest of the boys by the bar, and with a simple, “we’re off; love yous” followed by Hoseok reminding you to text them when you get home, the two of you exit the club and catch a taxi back to your apartment.
Although the ride back to your apartment is quick, Jungkook struggles to hold himself together in the backseat as your hands lightly trace non-existent patterns on his thigh while holding a small conversation with the driver. He doesn’t know how you’re able to multitask so effortlessly when he’s shifting uncomfortably at the tightness in his pants, but he draws it up to one of your many talents.
When the taxi pulls up outside your apartment complex, Jungkook hurriedly places a large bill in the driver’s hand, telling him to keep the change, before helping you out of the car and pulling you towards the entrance to your building. Your melodic laughter rings throughout the lobby as you wait for the elevator ― your building’s security guard acknowledges the two of you from their post with a knowing smile ― and when the doors close and the lift ascends, Jungkook’s large hands are cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. He licks at the seam of your mouth, foregoing any softness you’re used to, and when you part your lips, his tongue is exploring every crevice inside.
There is urgency and want in the kiss which you return happily.
Reaching up, you playfully tug on the man bun that has been giving you grief since the start of the night and Jungkook moans at the sensation of his hair being pulled. The sound shoots straight to your core, and you grind helplessly against his thigh that slides between your legs. You moan at the friction.
With one hand, he frantically pulls your already short dress higher; his palm sliding the material further up before gripping your thigh and wrapping it around his waist, the heel of your boot digging into his back deliciously. You sigh happily; the cool metal of his buckle hitting your centre. It’s not exactly what you want, but you don’t complain. Anything will do if it is rubbing against your covered clit.
Jungkook smirks into the kiss and grinds his hard, albeit clothed, cock against your core. The sound you make drives him crazy. “You’re so needy, noona.” He pants, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. He is greeted by the velvet material around your neck, and the bejewelled initials dangling in the centre brings out something feral in him. “Did you wear this just for me, hm?” he asks, fingers lightly grazing the choker.
He raises a pierced brow and you can’t find it in yourself to argue at how hot the simple action is. “While I enjoy hearing my name spill from your lips, that’s not the answer I was looking for.”
You’re dazed and confused, the bright lights from the elevator blinding you as you feel Jungkook’s deft fingers lightly graze your neck, your clavicle, down between the valley of your breasts, and then disappearing beneath your dress. You can barely breathe his name, but when you feel the briefest of touches against the material covering your centre, you can’t help the long drawn out “yes” that falls from your lips. The sound is embarrassingly pornographic, and you hate that with just the simplest of touches, Jungkook has you reduced to a wanton mess.
“Say it again for me.” Your boyfriend coaxes, his long digits inching towards the band of your underwear. “Did you wear that choker just for me?”
You bite your bottom lip in an effort to keep your noises at bay, but Jungkook is having none of that. He kisses you harshly, nipping your lip hard but not enough to draw blood, as his fingers slide beneath the material that guards the place where you want him most. You move your hips reflexively against his thigh, but the pressure isn’t enough, making you whimper needily. “Kook...please...want you…”
“Right here?” Jungkook asks, his fingers caressing your lower lips. “In this elevator?”
You whimper again and Jungkook offers you a moment of reprieve. The pads of his fingers find the nub hidden between your lower lips, and you sigh in relief. Gently, he rubs circles and whispers words of encouragement as your arms come up behind his neck and your hands find purchase in his hair. Sliding your wetness from your clit to your entrance, you shiver at the feeling, pleading with him to use his fingers. “Jungkook…” you moan, grinding down. “Stop teasing. Please.”
His thumb on your clit feels euphoric, but your core clenches around nothing and you want more. Need more. His lips are on your neck and his voice is soft when he says, “Whatever you want, noona.”
Satisfaction and excitement courses through your body when he rubs his middle finger against your entrance, but the feeling is interrupted when the sound of the elevator doors opening pulls you from your reverie.
“Fuck!” Jungkook growls in frustration and he reluctantly retracts his fingers to help adjust your clothes.
The two of you are breathing heavily when you part, dishevelled, but the look you share is animalistic and impatient. You exit the lift and swiftly walk to your apartment door; Jungkook right at your heels, his hands tightly gripping your sides and his teeth lightly nibbling on the clear expanse of your neck. Your mind is clouded with arousal and want as you struggle to open your door.
“Noona,” he grunts, grinding his hard length against your cheeks, “If you don’t hurry and open your apartment, I will fuck you against this door and I won’t care who sees us.”
You are tempted to just let it happen when your core clenches around absolutely nothing, but the sliver of conscious that reminds you that you like living in this building and footage of you having sex with your boyfriend in the hallway is a one-way ticket to eviction is enough for you to clumsily unlock your front door. The two of you stumble into your place, quickly dropping your belongings on the side table near the entrance followed by a swift back kick that slams the front door close.
Without warning, Jungkook pins you against the door, the look in his eyes commanding you to stay put as he drops to his knees. His hands are soft as he brings one leg up over his shoulder and noses your thigh up your dress. The smell of you is familiar and the purple-haired boy snarls at the memory of your taste.
“Can’t believe you got all dressed up like this for me,” he whispers and you nod frantically, hoping he foregoes the teasing and puts his tongue where you so desperately want it. You thread your fingers through his hair, discarding the elastic holding his hair together, and push your hips against his face. If there is one thing you’re not, it’s patient. Jungkook knows that all too well. He smirks at your frustration. “You looked so fucking hot tonight, noona―” the title makes you preen and your boyfriend teases your centre with his fingers with a chuckle. “I really wish we had just stayed home like you suggested. But then I would have missed the show tonight. Who knew you could be so possessive?” He slides the flimsy material covering what he so desperately craves and swipes his tongue between your lower lips.
“Fuck!” You pull his hair and dig the heel of your boot into his back. There is vague recognition of the pattern he draws against your clit to be the spelling of his own name, rendering you speechless, but then he is pushing a single digit into your dripping core. The stretch is pleasant and you throw your head back whilst pushing his face against your centre.
Jungkook smirks at your reaction. His eyes close as he savours your taste, adding another finger and drawing out another sinful moan from your lips. Your hips move in tandem with his tongue on your clit, words stuttering into nothing but delicious moans and cries. He feels you clench around his fingers and the memory of you clenching around his cock is enough to cause said cock to harden in the tight confines of his pants. As desperate as he is to fuck you senseless, he needs you to come on his fingers first. Reluctantly, he pulls his mouth away, hushing your whimpers with gentle praises as his fingers move in and out of you.
“You’re so good for me, noona.”
“Look at you; so pretty while fucking yourself on my fingers, pretending it’s my cock.”
“Tell me what you want, baby, what you need.”
The coil in your gut is winding tighter and tighter with each thrust of his fingers inside of you. With the added pressure of his finger rubbing your clit, it takes no time at all for you to be falling over the metaphoric edge of your climax. You cry out in euphoric pleasure, chanting his name like a mantra.
Both your hands find purchase on the door behind you, grinding down on his fingers as you allow his soft words to guide you through your orgasm. His fingers slowly pull out of you and he brings the digits to his mouth. Your breathing is heavy and uneven, but the sight of Jungkook slurping on your juices makes your pupils dilate. He groans as if he’s never tasted anything better, and without warning, pulls your hips forward and thrusts his tongue up into you.
Jungkook chuckles darkly. “That’s not my name.”
You’re sensitive, but the younger male is relentless. “Kook...please...I can’t…”
“Need one more from you, noona,” he urges, staring up at you with desperation in his eyes, “I need one more from you and then I’ll give you my cock.”
The promise has you keening, his tongue working fucking magic on your clit, and your hands frantically find purchase anywhere they can hold on to. One hand grips Jungkook’s locks tightly, making him moan earnestly, and the other finds your nipple and you play with it voraciously. You can feel your second orgasm inching its way deliciously up your body, making your toes curl in anticipation. “Oh my god,” you pant, “Fuck!”
Jungkook ignores the sharp pain of your heel but relishes in the sting of his hair being pulled and the taste of you trumping all other sensations. He’s desperate for you to come. “Come on baby,” his words coax you gently, muffled by your pussy. “Come for me.”
You’re forced to do nothing but obey as the work of his tongue and the commanding tone in his voice brings you over the brink a second time. Your eyes roll back as your juices gush out and Jungkook laps it up like a man starved of hydration. Your grinding comes to a slow halt, releasing your grip on his hair, and when he feels that he’s had enough, Jungkook pulls away with gentle kisses marking your thigh. His chin glistens with your juices and you swear the image almost makes you come a third time. He drags your panties down your leg before slowly standing to his full height and wrapping your leg around his waist. He kisses you softly on the lips.
You’ve never been a fan of tasting yourself after you’ve come, but Jungkook loves the way you taste and loves kissing you, so you fall complacent to his touches. You whine when he grinds his hard cock against your bare centre and you see his eyes turn feral.
“C’mon baby,” his sweet, velvet voice comforts you as he undoes his belt and pulls his cock from the confines of his pants. “Do you think you can take me, noona? Hm? I think you can…”
You’re absolutely exhausted but the promise of a third orgasm and Jungkook’s thick cock has you spreading your legs willingly.
“That’s a good girl…”
Bracing himself against the door with one hand and holding your body up with the other, he uses your juices to coat himself before sliding into you in one gentle thrust. You both moan at the contact.
“Oh god―fuck!”
“Christ, you’re so tight.”
“Kook...please move!”
At those words, he begins thrusting in and out of you, gently at first, and as your moans increase in volume, as does his pace. You’re oversensitive and tired but the feeling of his thickness dragging against your walls is too immensely pleasurable for you to ask him to stop. He’s breathing heavily into your ear and the feeling of your slickness mixed with sweat is driving you crazy. He whispers your name and you whimper in response.
“I want you to ride me. Can you ride me? Please?” His voice is deeper and needier.
Without words, you use all your strength to push him off, and when he sees the hungry look in your eye, Jungkook is quick to take off his shirt and his pants. You momentarily admire his tattoo sleeve before pouncing on him. You disregard the fact that the two of you are still in the entrance of your apartment as you line your wet centre with his pulsing member. It’s not like it’s the first time it has happened. Sliding down on his cock elicits a deliciously loud moan from your lips, harmonising with Jungkook’s deep growl.
With your hands on his firm chest, you find it easy to bounce up and down, setting the pace; sharp, quick, deep. You cry out when his tip hits a particular spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.
The look on your face is pure pornography and Jungkook can’t get enough. Not happy being the only one naked, he tugs at your dress, bringing it up over your head and throwing it in an unseen direction. Next is your black lacy bra and Jungkook, with a proud smirk, unclasps it in record time with one hand. As soon as your chest is bare, his large hands have engulfed them and his fingers are twisting at your pert nipples.
The sight of you bare with nothing but your boots and choker is a memory he hopes to have for the rest of his life.
Your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as you throw your head back and grind down relentlessly on his cock. The pain from the oversensitivity melds into desperate pleasure as you rock back and forth.
“That’s it, noona.”
“You’re so perfect for me, you know that?”
“God, I love watching you ride me.”
“You are so fucking beautiful. Can’t believe you’re mine.”
His words are deep in your ears, bringing you closer and closer to your climax.
Jungkook can see how close you are and his thrusts upwards, matching your movements, to also bring him closer to his orgasm. With one hand occupied with your nipple, he brings the other one up and encloses it around your throat.
His grip is loose, but the knowledge that he could apply pressure at any given time makes you even wetter.
“I want you to come for me a third time, baby. Can you do that? For me?”
You nod, whimpering when you feel his thumb stroke your windpipe. His smile is dark and wanting.
“Good girl.”
Wanting to please him, you increase your movements; slamming down and then grinding against his pelvis. You are so, so, so tired but Jungkook’s thrusts continue to match yours, bringing you closer to the feeling you so desperately crave. Your pussy clenches around his cock and he grunts, the sound going straight to your core.
“Baby,” you whimper, digging your nails into his chest and leaving crescent-shaped marks, “I think I’m going to…”
“Are you going to come?” he asks.
You nod frantically.
“Good. Come.”
With the feeling of your clit dragging against his pelvis as he pistons in and out of you, his fingers playing with your nipples, and the slightly added pressure against your throat, you come hard with a ragged, choked cry; Jungkook’s name falling from your lips. Your eyes roll back as the orgasm takes over your body and you feel your wetness gushing out of you, soaking his thighs and making a mess on the apartment floor. Your body twitches, your pussy clenches, and yet your hips still rock against his.
Jungkook is in absolute awe of you as he gently removes his hand from your throat. His eyes struggle to find a solid place to rest as he etches your expression into memory, before dragging his gaze down to the wetness still gushing out and coating his cock. He has never seen anything hotter and he says just as much.
“Fucking look at you, noona,” his voice is thick with lust as his hands guide your hips back and forth. “You’re absolutely drenched and you’ve made such a mess.”
You whimper, pleading with Jungkook that you’re too sensitive to continue.
“I know baby,” he coos, his thrusts never ceasing. “I’m gonna come now, okay? I’m gonna come inside of you.”
You nod, too exhausted to reply, and allow Jungkook to use your body to his liking. Sweat dots your face as Jungkook increases his pace, and with a softest smile, he smashes his lips against yours and comes with a guttural moan. The feeling of him coating your insides spurs you into a surprising fourth orgasm, and you tremble in mild delight.
“Fuck―” Jungkook’s eyes closed as holds you close. “Baby, are you coming again?”
You nod tiredly, grinding down softly as to prolong the glorious feeling. Exhausted, you collapse on top of Jungkook, sighing when you feel your juices and his semen drip down your thighs. “Holy fuck…” you murmur.
The smell of sweat and sex linger the air; the smell of a good time.
Jungkook quietly laughs as he brings his arms around you. “You can say that again. How are you feeling? Did I push you too hard?”
His fingers stroke your bare back mindlessly, lulling you into a safe space of sleepiness. “No,” you answer softly. “But I do regret not taking this to the room because now we have to move and I just don’t have the energy.”
“Tired you out, did I?” His tone is cocky and if you had the energy, you would smack him.
“Something like that.”
Jungkook smiles lovingly at your fatigued form. “C’mon noona,” he cajoles tenderly, both of you wincing when he pulls you off of him and sluggishly removes your boots. “I’ll go run the shower and then we can snuggle into bed. How does that sound?”
You hum contently, your legs feeling like jello as you slowly stand before making your way to your ensuite bathroom. “I like the sound of that.”
a/n: hiya!
this one took a little bit longer for me to write and edit. i decided to write this as i was planning the sequel-not-sequel for my hobi fic i posted last week because i found that i was struggling with trying to write smut. i figured that an easier way to get me into the groove of writing smut again would be to just re-write one of my old smut fics. So here we are! i'm super nervous about it, but i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts.
i am currently working on the sequel to 'can we talk', as well as revamping (read: re-writing) some of my older fics, so i will do my absolute best to write those and try to get some consistency in my life.
thank you so much for reading my work. I'm always open to thoughts and feedback, so feel free to drop a like, reblog or send me a message!
please look forward to my other work ♡
masterlist | ao3 | twitter
486 notes · View notes
bratkook · 7 months ago
almost. (m) jjk.
Tumblr media
not yet, almost, right now
pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, baby angst, smut word count. 6.4k warnings. two idiots!!, pining, masturbation (m. and f.), use of vibrator, accidental voyeurism?,  more feelings come to light!! summary. jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right? note. part two of not yet, some more feelings are exposed, please don’t hate oc she is but a pendeja that doesn’t see the obvious feelings jungkook has but she has good intentions i promise<3 there will most likely be a final part,,if you guys are into it lmao okie bye
Tumblr media
The cool summer breeze flows around you as you’re sitting under the shade, eyes focused on the chaos of runny yolk and hashbrowns that is your breakfast. Jungkook on the other hand, is focused on you. His signature yellow shades block out the sun reflecting from passing cars, concealing his eyes just enough for you to not see him blatantly staring at you while you stuff your face. 
The charmed smile he has falters slightly when you look directly at him, hashbrown lingering by your lip as you repeat his name. “Sorry, what?”
Your brows come together as you smile at his zoned out state, something you had grown fond of in the years of knowing him, always enjoying the small dazed look that graced his face whenever he was lost in his thoughts. His lips push out slightly in question, curious eyes wondering just what you could have been asking him. 
“I was saying that I think I’m giving up on crushes and love.” You say it so easily, mind made up as you grin at him before continuing to shovel hashbrowns into your mouth, only pausing to take a sip of your iced coffee. 
Jungkook tries his best to seem unaffected, nodding along in interest as he takes a steady bite of his own food. “Really?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a look around at the people surrounding you: friends having breakfast together and snapping photos, couples feeding each other food with smiles on their faces, a lone man with his dog perched on the seat across from his while he worked on his computer. You briefly wonder if all of them, even the dog, have better luck with love than you do. 
“I think I’m cursed,” you continue. “All of my exes have been assholes, and I’ve always been too blind to see it until it’s over and I’m left crying over Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams.”
“Maybe you’re just looking for love in the wrong places,” Jungkook shrugs, internally screaming because he’s who you should be looking at if you wanted love. 
Not to toot his own horn, but Jungkook liked to think he was a good guy, a great boyfriend even. His previous track record of relationships could attest to that, all of them ending on mutual terms, still friendly and civil with each other. He’s almost certain if there was a Yelp page for him it would be at least 4.5 stars with comments raving about how great he is, even little anecdotal touches about how he always gave away his hoodies or offered to cook breakfast. 
He was a god damn catch, why couldn’t you see that?
“Maybe prince charming is a lot closer than you think,” he grumbles out, stabbing his omelette with a little more force than necessary, fork clanking against the plate. And when you gasp in realization he freezes, slowly looking back up at you and seeing the way your eyes widen. 
“Wait, maybe you’re right!” Your hand shoots across the table, gripping onto his forearm and it sends a shock throughout him, skin tingling at your touch. “You know that coffee shop below our building? That cute barista always puts a heart next to my name. Do you think I should ask for his number?”
Jungkook blinks once, slowly twirls his fork in his hand and blinks again before staring up at the sky, mentally asking why he couldn’t just go out and say it. “Hm, I don’t think you should.“
With a defeated sigh you retract your hand, slumping back into your seat and grabbing your iced coffee once more, stirring the straw and ice around as you nod. “True. What if he feels obligated to give it to me just because he doesn’t want to get fired in case I go all Karen on his ass.”
That wasn’t why Jungkook had said not to, but sure, that works too, so he hums along. 
“I bet he draws hearts on all the other girls cups too.” You huff, playfully wiping a tear under your eye with a smile. 
“I’ve actually—“
“You know what I—“
You both freeze mid sentence, Jungkook’s cheeks tinted a light pink as he stutters on his words, wide eyes staring at you as if he had caught himself before you cut him off. But as you’re about to tell him to go on, he waves you off and urges you to speak first. 
“I was just gonna say that maybe I should go through that wild phase people usually go through after breakups.”
He sets his silverware down on the plate and sips his water, giving you an odd look. “Wild phase? Like you wanna dye your hair red and get bangs?”
“No,” you cackle, ruffling a hand through your own hair as you picture yourself with that combination. “I should just go out and hook up with people. I feel like I’ve either been in a relationship or entirely single, so it could be fun right?”
“Uh, maybe...” he trails off, rolling his lips together in thought, not exactly fond of hearing you say that when he had felt the confession about to roll off his tongue. He takes a slow breath, trying to see this from a neutral point, the point of a supportive friend wanting to help you get over a breakup. 
“How do you go about it?”
“Me?” he chokes, pointing at his chest as if there was magically some other person you could be addressing. 
“Yes, you. Need I remind you, we share a wall between our beds.” You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face shows that you’re speaking of this lightly, not entirely annoyed by the fact that you had heard Jungkook during his own fair share of hook ups. 
He’s not ashamed of it, but considering he never really brought up being able to hear you, he thought you’d pretend to never hear him. It wasn’t too often that he had a girl over, the number of hookups only increasing after you got with Hajoon and loosely cut ties with Jungkook. But from what you had heard—and seen thanks to your nosey self looking through peep holes once they left—it was very rarely the same girl. 
So to you, Jungkook was a pro at the art of hookups. 
“Right, sorry,” he grimaces, a sheepish smile on his lips as he wonders just how many times his activities kept you up at night. 
“It’s fine, consider us even.” A teasing laugh follows your statement, enjoying the flustered look on his face, how his cheeks get even darker in embarrassment. Jungkook was used to the two of you talking like this, neither of you having a filter especially when it came to sexual aspects, but he hadn’t had a conversation like this since before you got with Hajoon. It would take some getting used to again. 
“So, give me the tips. Where do you find people?”
Jungkook leans back into his chair, arms stretching out on either side of him, short sleeves of his black tee bunching up and revealing more of his tattoos and the rippling of his muscles. With a small laugh he rakes his hand through his fluffy hair, giving you a small smile. “Honestly? Anywhere. I’ve gotten girl’s numbers at the gym and at coffee shops, but bars are the best bet for something quick.”
“Ugh, fuck you and your pretty privilege.” 
“What?” he guffaws, smiling wide and showing you his adorable smile as he laughs loudly, not caring about the attention he draws to your table. He doesn’t even realize how the table full of girls is now trying to discreetly stare at him, because his eyes are on you. You see it though, and it further proves your point. “What the hell is pretty privilege?”
Your wild hands gesture towards him, a look of disbelief on your face as you do so. “You! Of course girls line up to hand you their number, have you seen yourself? Pretty privilege,” you jab your fork at him in time with your final words, a smirk on your glossy lips. 
Jungkook feels his confidence grow at your casual compliment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares down at his food, trying not to smile too hard. You thought he was pretty, that was a win in his book. 
“C’mon,” he teases, foot gently nudging your leg underneath the table. “You could totally score someone's number. Plus there's always apps if you just wanna test the water.”
You give your plate a contemplated stare, “Sure, how hard could it be?”
Tumblr media
Admittedly, the answer to that question was: not hard at all. You had met all your previous boyfriends in person, through mutual friends or shared classes back in college, never once dipping your toe into the world of Tinder or Bumble. Who knew all it would take was a couple of selfies and the strategic body shot to have boys circling around you like some new-age, slightly filthier version of rapunzel. 
Jungkook knew though, not at all shocked by how quickly you get a match the following day when he’s at your place. His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, helping you beat a level in your favorite game that you had been stuck on. But the second you gasp as if you’ve won the lottery, he pauses the game entirely and gives you an odd look. 
His answer comes in the form of your phone thrusted in his direction, lit up screen displaying your profile picture and the one of the boy you had just matched with. Jung Hoseok. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he reads the name, trying to remember it in case he somehow had a friend in common that knew all the dirt on him. 
He has a similar pair of yellow shades on his own head, thicker black rims around them and a charming smile on his face. Jungkook chuckles to himself. Yellow shades? How original. 
“What do I say?” you question, eyes looking nervous as you wiggle the phone in his face. The small white bar beneath your match urges you to start a conversation, and coming up with the right words to say makes you overthink it all. 
“Just say hi and tack on some cute emoji. It’s not that hard,” he laughs, pushing the phone back at you. Jungkook knew you could start the message off any way you wanted and this Jung Hoseok would eat it right up. How could he not, the alluring smile in your profile photo would draw anyone in. 
“Okay, I did it.” Your phone is instantly locked and chucked aside in an attempt to be forgotten, choosing to grab the remote out of Jungkook’s hands for another distraction. It only lasts a brief second before you’re killed by the boss Jungkook was trying to defeat. 
“Really?” Jungkook huffs, yanking the remote back into his hands, needing a distraction himself. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were searching for a fuck buddy while he sat beside you. How crazy would it be if he suggested being your fuck buddy, offered to help you through this so called wild phase you were searching for. 
No. That’s not what he wants. 
Would he enjoy it? Sure. But he could already imagine how much worse his heart would hurt if his feelings came to light and yours were non-existent. That is if you’d even agree to it. 
“Relax, he’s probably thinking of what to reply.”
You make a noise of disagreement, fingers itching to unlock your device to see if it was true, slowly inching towards it until you finally grab it and go back onto the app. Jungkook just chuckles as he goes back to helping you with your game, not wanting to look at you as you giggle at your device. He could already imagine what this guy was telling you for you to turn into a giddy mess not even two minutes in. 
He tunes it all out, eyes focused on the screen, fingers gripping the remote with a little more force than needed. His concentration helps him though, finally passing the level you’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks. 
“You’re welcome,” he sighs, making a show of stretching out and sending you a smile, having it falter slightly when he sees your eyes still focused on the screen of your phone. With a frown he looks back at the television, saving the game before turning it off altogether. 
Once he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the media console to store the remotes, is when you look up at him. “You’re right, this is easy!”
Jungkook doesn’t feel the usual pride that comes with being right, but the cheerful look on your face prevents him from feeling salty. Coming back towards the couch, he sits beside you once more, facing you as he rests his elbow on the back cushion to lean on. “Told you so.”
He keeps that same smile on his face as you mention how quick Hoseok was to ask you out on a date, even as you bring up the fact that this date would be at his place, and Jungkook could decipher netflix and chill any way some greasy boy tried to conceal it. 
“I hope he knows I don’t want anything serious,” you mumble, chewing on your fingernail as you scroll through the messages. 
Jungkook could almost laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of the piranha infested water that was the great sea of Tinder. Of course this yellow sunglass wearing wannabe version of him knows you don’t want anything serious, why else would he be so quick to invite you over with the cheeky excuse to watch movies. 
All he can do is shrug as he stares at you, lips pressed together in an effort to not say something that would totally ruin everything. Instead, Jungkook does everything he can to be the best version of a wingman you could get. He tells you the ins and outs of hookups, how you should definitely not text him the minute you leave his place and tell him you had fun, don’t talk about anything super personal involving family or your work, and if he doesn’t offer to go down on you but expects a blowjob he’s a loser. 
It’s solid advice that you mentally jot down, subjecting him to further questions your mind comes up with and even asking him for help on an outfit via text the night of your hangout with Jung Hoseok. 
Jungkook stares at the photos for a little too long if he’s being honest. They weren’t spectacular selfies that you had taken much effort for, their sole purpose being showing off the outfit, but the way you look so focused as you snapped the shot had him zooming into your face and smiling like an idiot. When you double text him with a long line of question marks he snaps out of it, deciding on the second option you picked of mom jeans and a cropped shirt. Cute and casual, and definitely something Jungkook preferred, but he’d never tell you that. 
When you finally text him a thumbs up and tell him you’re on your way out he just hearts the message before locking his device and trudging to the living room. It’s not often that he wallows in self pity, spacing those days out so far he barely remembers them. But they usually went exactly like this, ordering a large meat lovers pizza with extra cheese, drinking far too many Mike’s hard lemonade—because despite how much they made his stomach hurt they were tasty so he didn’t care—and binge watching his comfort show: Modern Family. 
But even as he sulks on his couch, practically sinking into the cushions with horrible posture and a slice of pizza resting on his chest, he can’t find it in himself to chuckle at Cam and Mitch’s usual banter. He’s too busy thinking about which movie you’re currently watching, if you were watching it. Who’s Jungkook kidding though, you were totally getting your guts rearranged right now. 
Taking an aggressive bite out of the crust he frowns and raises the volume up on his television, attempting to drown the mocking voice in his head calling him a loser for not admitting to his feelings. He knew this, knew he should have said something when he wanted to at breakfast, but Jungkook was afraid that if he confessed as you were talking about hooking up, that you’d see him as taking advantage of a situation instead of being genuine. I mean who wouldn’t? You say you want something casual and suddenly he’s spilling his heart out and you’re supposed to believe he’s not some pig trying to butter you up. He didn’t want to get labeled as a creepy neighbor after the good times you’ve had. 
“So stupid,” he grumbles to himself as he takes another swig, the last drops of the alcohol hitting his tongue with a tangy aftertaste. As he sits up to place the empty bottle onto his coffee table his muscles ache, neck stiff from the unfortunate position it had been subjected to for the last three hours. With a small huff he’s rolling his shoulders, reaching for his discarded phone to see the time—and also check if you’d sent him some SOS text—but he finds nothing besides the bright numbers indicating that it was nearing midnight.
In true pity party day fashion, he doesn’t even bother cleaning up after his mess, just tossing the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed tomorrow when he would force himself to be in a better mood. Instead, he grabs a water and his phone and waddles into his bedroom. 
The moonlight illuminates the space enough for him to keep the light switch off, undressing from his crumb covered sweats and shirt, choosing to remain in his boxers as he slipped under the cold duvet. The sheets feel fresh against his hot cheeks, flush from the alcohol, cooling him down and making his body relax. 
Jungkook knows he should sleep, needing to be up early tomorrow for work, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. His buzzed brain has no qualms imagining exactly what you were doing right now, wondering if you’d be the type to act shy at a guy’s house for the first time, if you’d initiate the first move or not. Jungkook had only seen it up close once under the flash of strobe lights and the haze of alcohol, but he can still picture the soft smile on your face before you go in for a kiss, and he grumbles under his breath when he realizes that he wouldn’t be the one kissing you tonight. 
What he doesn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be the one getting kissed tonight either. The Jung Hoseok you had perceived through Tinder, assuming he was all casual and DTF with his netflix and chill suggestion, had been anything but. What you thought would be a steamy night, ended up becoming a nice dinner and comedy watched, morphing into some version of game night where you discovered he was a little too competitive than you were used to. The only action you got was a kiss to your cheek as he walked you to your car and a promise for another date. A promise you would not be keeping. 
So as Jungkook lays in bed while his thoughts turn into some fantasy of you moaning out his name, you shuffle into your bedroom and slip into your pajamas with a defeated sigh. You had already texted your best friend telling her what a bust tonight had been, deciding to just tell Jungkook all about it tomorrow because you knew he was most likely fast asleep now. And as you settle under your own covers, inches away from Jungkook with only a wall seperating you, you decide to just call it a night and pretend it never happened. 
Just as you shut your eyes, nuzzling into your pillow, you hear the first moan come from behind the wall. A small cry of despair escapes you as you bury your face into your sheets, tugging them up and over your head to block the sound of Jungkook getting some action the same night you had been left high and dry. Of course he would, assuming you’d be getting the same treatment at your date's place, why wouldn’t he take advantage of your absence and not have to muffle his partner’s moans the way he usually did. 
You’re just going to ignore it, until you hear a moan that sounds strangely like your own name. Maybe it's wishful thinking on your part, your horny brain deciding to pretend that Jungkook was calling for you instead of whoever he was with. It might be a little wrong for you to have that fantasy of your neighbor, but you aren’t blind. He’s hot, and adorably sweet, the perfect package for any girl he tried to swoon. And judging by the cries you’ve heard of lucky girls prior, you know he was good in bed. 
You’re just desperate now. That’s the excuse you tell yourself as you slowly settle onto your back, feeling your body warm up when you focus on his muffled groans, desperate and needy. As your hand slowly slides down your shirt, you shut your eyes, biting down onto your lip to muffle any sound you could make when your fingers slip underneath your pants and past your underwear. 
Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t care about his volume. His boxers are tugged down his thighs, knees bent as he slowly ruts into his sticky palm. His hand is tacky with the lube he had messily squirted on, thick cock glistening in the light coming in from his window. He can’t look away from it, mouth dropped open as he groans, imagining it was your hand tightly wrapped around him, your spit covering his cock instead of that strawberry flavored lube. 
“Ah fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back onto his soft pillows when his thumb rubs along his slit. It continues to leak beads of precum, quickly wiped away to join the mess on his cock when his hand slides back down and squeezes along his base. 
You hear that loud and clear, and when the female voice you’re expecting never follows, you realize he must be taking care of himself. It makes you feel a little less guilty now as your fingers trail along your slit, collecting the slick coating your folds before you softly circle your clit. A choked gasp fills the air at the small sensation, your body already wired after having expected to get some action tonight; it totally had nothing to do with your hot neighbor jacking off inches away from you. 
With your eyes fluttering shut, you strain your ears to make out any other noise, muffling your own groans with a hand pressed against your mouth. The bed creaks lightly underneath you as you roll your hips into your hand, getting into a smooth rhythm that makes your body buzz. 
Slowly, your imagination runs wild, and you wonder just what Jungkook was thinking of as he did this. Was he watching some porn as he did it, using his own filthy thoughts to push himself to ecstacy, or was this just something he needed to do to be able to sleep? 
“Shit, so good,” he groans out, voice raspy, but you can sense his desperation through the drywall. It’s what has you sinking a single digit into your drenched entrance, biting down onto your lower lip when you feel the glide of your walls as you start to thrust into yourself, easing in another and mewling at the slight stretch. 
Jungkook would absolutely give his left leg to know what your pussy felt like, he didn’t even care how disgusting he sounded by admitting that to himself, it was true. Blame it on the hard lemonade that made his stomach ache and his mind unfiltered, but he could almost visualize how you’d look above him, could practically feel the warmth of your core wrapped around him, dripping down his length as he fucked into you. 
He knows you’re loud in bed, never being one to conceal your cries of pleasure and he would die happy to hear his name come out of your mouth as you creamed his cock. But for now, his hand would have to do. 
His lids feel too heavy, jaw slack as the pleasure flows through his body. The wet squelch of his palm fills the room, mingling with his pants and groans, air growing thick around him. It’s been a while since Jungkook had jacked off, and even longer since he’d been able to do it shamelessly in bed without the fear of you hearing him, but now that he thought you were gone he can’t find it in himself to cover his mouth or groan into his pillows like he usually did. 
The pent up frustration fogs up his mind, cranks the lust up to 11 until his free hand is gripping his sheets beside him, bed frame creaking as his thrusts speed up. The thuds of his headboard hitting the wall come from behind you, a choked moan blending in with it, and it has you scrambling for your bedside drawer. 
The pajamas you wear get yanked off your legs and tossed aside after you grab your trusty vibrator, settling onto your back once more with huff. All it takes is a press of a button for the device to come to life, buzzing in your hand as you trail it up your thighs. A gasp escapes you when you pass it over your mound, brushing against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 
“Oh my god,” you whimper when you finally press the vibrating head directly onto your sensitive clit, legs spreading further apart as you increase the intensity. You could clearly hear the raise in Jungkook’s moans, and that's when the first irrational thought pops into your mind. 
How easy would it be for you to head over to his place and deal with both of your problems. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t have an issue with you offering to suck his dick, wouldn’t mind letting you sink down onto him if it was just a friendly favor. 
The little devil on your shoulder tells you it would be mutually beneficial, urging you to get up and walk to Jungkook’s with the vibrator still in your hand, but you can’t. This alone felt like enough of a dirty secret, a secret you’d have absolutely no problem keeping because although you feel slightly ashamed, you couldn’t deny how turned on you are. 
The flashes of all the times you’ve heard Jungkook with other people play in your mind, the screams of his name that he tried to muffle, pleas for him to go faster, the resounding smack of his palm on flesh that always left you wide eyed when you heard it. And you start to wonder if maybe you’d be into that, the feeling of his large tattooed hand connecting with your ass, gently tapping against your cheek for you to open up for his cock. 
That fantasy is like the first ember needed to start the fire inside of you, spreading uncontrollably until you’re bucking into your vibrator, teeth biting down on your lip to keep any potential moans of his name from slipping out. 
“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, the same fire burning within him. Maybe your minds are linked telepathically, his thoughts gravitating to the same filthy fantasy you had. Jungkook was very much an ass man, knowing very well how good your butt looked in jeans from how often he stared at it, he could only imagine how good it would look as he fucked you from behind. Picturing the way it would bounce back from the force of his thrusts, eyes glued to the way you’d soak his cock, mimicking the tightness of your walls with a firm grip of his palm. 
Jungkook can sense his orgasm approaching, leaves his chest feeling tight as he pants, legs gliding along his sheets for leverage to continue fucking into his hand. You’re not far off either, vibrator set to the highest setting you can practically feel your bones rattling, free hand slipped under your shirt as you pinch at your pebbled nipples. You’re both on the brink of falling over the edge, the same question playing in your mind: where would you want Jungkook to cum?
As his moans get breathier, whiny in a way you’d never imagine them to be, you mentally decide that you’d want him to cum inside of you, wanting to see the way his cute face would twist up in pleasure as he filled you up. Jungkook hopes you would, throwing all responsible thinking aside for that sweet moment of ecstasy and the mental picture is enough to finally push him over. 
“Ah shit, baby,” he cries out in his room—thankfully having half the mind to not cry out your name as he came—eyes rolling back as his cock twitches in his palm, ribbons of cum splashing onto his stomach and chest. The warmth hits his skin, more droplets continuing to leak out as his palm milks his orgasm, stomach hiccuping and back arching from the stimulation. 
The choked moan is what has your own orgasm washing over you, your palm slapping over your mouth so hard you know you’ll feel the ache later but you don’t care. A muffled gasp blends with the buzzing of your toy, thighs tensing up as your body tingles and writhes around on your sheets. 
The only thing you can think of is Jungkook, the charming smile he’d give you when he listened to you rant about anything, his annoying habit of rolling up his sleeves to show off his muscles, the cute scowl on his face whenever you managed to beat him at Mario Kart, and the soft feeling of his alcohol coated lips on yours. It leaves you feeling warm as your orgasm flows through you, lying limp on the bed as you mewl at the sensitivity. 
When you realize your thoughts have strayed from ‘pure sexy Jungkook fantasyland’, and switched over to ‘Jeon Jungkook your adorable neighbor’, your eyes go wide, finger immediately going to turn off the vibrator. In your haste to shut it off, you click the wrong button, changing the pulsing settings and nearly screaming when the device starts to buzz erratically against your overly sensitive clit. 
With a strained gasp you yank it away from yourself, turn it off and throw it aside, horribly miscalculating the size of your bed and watching in horror as it lands on the floor with a loud thud. The complete silence from both sides makes the noise sound deafening, and all you can do is sit on your bed, half naked, and hope Jungkook is still too busy basking in his post orgasm bliss to hear the bang. 
Although the blood is still pumping in his ears, he heard the thud clearly. His heart stops in his chest as he lays there, too scared to breathe in case he’d somehow make too much noise, suddenly afraid of being too loud after he had just made a show of himself. Jungkook slowly sits himself up, grimacing at the stickiness on his stomach before pressing his ear against his headboard to try to hear anything else. 
All you want to do is yank the covers over yourself and go to sleep, pretend your horrendous date and your dirty thoughts about your friend never happened. The sobering mentality that comes after an orgasm settles into you, leaving you staring at the floor with a crease between your brows as you wonder what the hell came over you. 
When Jungkook hears nothing else, he sighs in relief, hauling himself out of bed to grab another pair of underwear before entering his bathroom to clean up. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, he frowns at how pathetic he feels. The throbbing headache of his earlier drinks is already starting to kick in, body now sweaty from exertion, stomach covered in his cum. 
“Such a loser,” he grumbles out, grabbing a wad of tissues to wipe away the mess on his skin before walking back out. Here he was, getting off to the thought of you, while you were out having your post-breakup wild phase. 
His hands grab his phone as he reaches his nightstand, flopping back onto the bed and unlocking the device. It’s now one in the morning, and you still hadn’t text him, which either meant you were having the time of your life, or Jungkook had to track down this Jung Hoseok. The slightly protective side of him won’t allow him to sleep until he hears back from you, fingers already typing out a message and hitting send. 
Jungkook 1:23am : you safe or am i gonna have to go all Liam Neeson on this guy?
When your phone vibrates on your nightstand you gasp, grabbing it before it could make any more noise. Seeing Jungkook’s name flash on the screen makes your blood run cold, already imagining what the text could be: calling you dirty for getting off on him, making fun of you, telling you to come ove—no stop that. 
Finally mustering up the courage, you open it up, a small laugh spilling out as you read his message, relief flooding through you as you realize that meant he thought you were still with Hoseok. 
Y/N 1:26am : oh yeah, you gonna show him your very particular set of skills? lol
Y/N 1:26am : i just got home though
Y/N 1:26am : like right now
Y/N 1:26am : still sitting in my living room
Y/N 1:27am : haha
He laughs at your string of texts, something you hear as he settles into bed. Jungkook ebbs away the small feeling of jealousy in his chest, trying to see the silver lining of this. You weren’t rushing to tell him anything about your date which meant it either went so good you wanted to keep it to yourself, or it was subpar and you wouldn’t be seeing this yellow sunglass wearing copycat again. 
Jungkook 1:29am : glad you got home safe, goodnight y/n!
Sending back a goodnight text, you lock your phone and slide deeper into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you stare at the ceiling. You already know the only thing you’ll be dreaming about is your cute neighbor with a bunny smile and body proportions that contradicted it. And as Jungkook lays in bed, wondering if he’ll have to push the crush aside, you’re barely coming to terms with the fact that the small glowing feeling that came with being around him might be something else. 
Every single one of your interactions gets rewinded and played back like a seamless montage, remembering just how many almost moments there was between you. The way his eyes would flash down to your lips whenever you playfully argued on your couch, hands yanking the remotes from his in a game of tug of war that left you way too close in the heat of the moment. How he’d let you braid his hair anytime you found a new youtube tutorial, his starry eyes staring at you with so much adoration it made your stomach flip, brushing it off as love for a friend. 
Then came the jokes from your friends, constantly teasing you about Jungkook, playfully saying they would try to sleep with him just because they liked the scowl on your face, and how quickly you tried to play it off. How the sweet old lady from the convenience store downstairs always assumed you were dating when you came in together, the low jab she sent when you walked in with Hajoon and she said she preferred you with Jungkook. That argument had been one of the ones that left him bolting out of your apartment with a nasty slam of the door, spewing nasty words at you, calling you blind for not seeing it and dumb for acting like you had no idea what he was talking about. 
And for the first time, you come to the sudden realization that Hajoon was right. His deep set insecurities about Jungkook had stemmed from scraps of the truth, not just from him but from you too. The amount of times you’d find a way to slide Jungkook’s name into a conversation about anything, telling him funny stories about him, too lost in thought to see that while you were giggling as you reminisce, he was staring at you in disbelief. 
The final thought that makes you want a blackhole to swallow you up, comes in the form of you, grabbing Jungkook’s face before planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips at the club. You want to scream into your pillow as you recall it, how he had almost leaned back in to kiss you again before you had sobered him up with your dumb question rooted in revenge. 
“Oh my god, I’m such a bitch.” you whimper. Subjecting Jungkook to be your wingman, jokingly telling him he should be your fake boyfriend more often, asking him for tips with hook ups. If everyone else could see it but you, he probably thought you were purposely friendzoning him. 
The guilt piles on top of you as you start to piece together every moment that flew over your head, only making you bury yourself deeper into your sheets. It makes your heart twist, taking note of how Jungkook was always so quick to put a smile on his face despite how naive you were to it all, wondering if maybe it was too late to try to make something of this now. How many times could you call Jungkook ‘bro’ and treat him like you didn’t see him romantically, before he decided there was no hope for him anymore. 
So as you force yourself to sleep, nerves and uncertainty weighing heavy on your mind, Jungkook snores away as he dreams of the almost moments that could have been.
2K notes · View notes