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jungkxook · 10 months ago
Text
—hot boy bummer. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 
⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  
⟶ words: 14,633
⟶ rating: 18+ 
⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?
⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink
⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛
( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )
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Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.
Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.
College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.
But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.
“What if we, like, had sex?”
Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.
After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”
“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”
“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.
Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”
You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”
“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”
“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”
“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”
“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”
“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”
“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”
The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.
Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.
“But it’s not like you’re any better.”
This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”
“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”
Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.
“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”
A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”
“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”
A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.
“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”
“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”
You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.
The cons? He’s your best friend.
The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.
Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.
“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”
“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”
“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”
“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”
Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”
“It’s true though.”
“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”
“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”
But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”
As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”
“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”
“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?
You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.
“Y/N…”
The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.
“Touch me?”
Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.
Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.
“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”
But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”
“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”
“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.
You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.
“Like this?” You rasp.
“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”
“No. Do you?”
“No.”
“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”
“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.
“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”
He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  
He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.
“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.
The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.
“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”
And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.
But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.
So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.
Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.
A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?
Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.
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“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”
Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.
Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.
You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.
“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”
More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”
“Want a minute?”
“Maybe.”
Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.
“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”
Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”
“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.
“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”
“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”
“Rules.”
“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”
Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”
“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”
“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”
“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”
“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”
“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”
Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.
“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”
Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”
He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”
Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”
“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”
“Yup.”
“Who have sex from time to time.”
“Yeah.”
He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”
“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.
“We might?”
“No, we definitely won’t.”
Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.
After all, what are best friends for?
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So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.
A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.
It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).
But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.
It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.
Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.
Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”
There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).
But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.
As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.
“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”
“You know him?”
“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”
“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”
You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”
At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”
“You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No, why would I be jealous?”
You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.
So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?
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“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”
Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”
“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”
Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.
It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.
“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”
“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”
“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”
Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”
Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.
“Jungkook━!”
He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.
“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”
The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.
Fuck it, you cave.
You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.
“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”
That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.
“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”
Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.
“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.
You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  
“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”
Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.
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From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.
bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??
You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.
That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.
Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.
Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.
“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”
The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.
“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”
The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”
“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.
From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.
send n00ds?
miss ur tits :(
Typical Jungkook.
The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”
“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”
“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”
You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?
You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.
But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.
You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”
“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”
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“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”
Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.
It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.
“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.
Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.
“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”
“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.
“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.
“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”
He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.
“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.
At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.
“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”
Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”
“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”
“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”
“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”
“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”
You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.
“Nngh, Jungkook━”
Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.
God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.
And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.
You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”
“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”
In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.
A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”
You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”
“Well…?”
“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”
That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.
“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”
“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”
A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”
It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.
Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.
That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.
And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.
He smiles.
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The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.
But that’s neither here nor there.
Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.
For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.
“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”
Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”
“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.
You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━
It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.
“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.
“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”
“What?”
“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”
The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”
But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”
You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”
You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”
“Jungkook…”
“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”
“But you wanna.”
“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”
He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.
“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.
He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.
“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”
He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.
You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?
A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.
Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”
“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.
So then why does it feel like he is?
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When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.
A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?
You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.
Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”
“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”
You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.
“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”
“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”
You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.
You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”
“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”
“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”
“And you said you didn’t want to.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”
“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”
A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”
Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”
“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”
“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”
Jungkook flinches. “I know.”
“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”
“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.
“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”
“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.
“Why?”
“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”
The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”
“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”
Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━
“No.”
“What?”
“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”
The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”
“Me?”
The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.
Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.
It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.
Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.
Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”
Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”
Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”
Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”
You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.
“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”
“Oh, Koo…”
A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.
He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”
“Don’t say that,” You whine.
“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”
“You already have.”
“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”
“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”
“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.
“Yeah,” You mewl.
“What do you want from me?”
“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”
“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”
He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.
“Oh, fuck,” he growls.
You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.
“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.
He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.
“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”
You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.
So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.
“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”
He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.
“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”
With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.
A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”
“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”
A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.
“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”
“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”
Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”
“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”
“No,” You croak.
You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.
“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”
“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”
“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”
His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.
Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”
You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”
“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”
You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.
Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”
“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”
Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”
Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.
“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”
As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”
You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.
When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.
It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.
“Jungkook.”
He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”
A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”
“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”
It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”
Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”
His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”
“But?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”
So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.
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It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.
Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━
“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”
The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.
“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”
He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”
You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”
“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”
“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.
A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”
Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.
Because he wants it all with you.
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⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!
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hansolmates · 3 months ago
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day by day | masterpost
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banner done by the iconic @dnrequests​/ @dee-ehn​
[하루 하루, haru haru] is the Korean word for 'day by day’ summary; a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together pairing; dilf!jungkook x best friend!reader (f) genre/warnings; angst, longing, pining, mc is a homebody, unrequited love (or is it?), potential idiots 2 lovers, best friends 2 lovers, but there’s a poopy ex-girlfriend, potential toxic relationship, alcohol use, explicit language, eventual fluff, eventual smut [taglist is OPEN]
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part 1; year one
01. the m-word jungkook’s baby calls you the m-word just as he and his ex-girlfriend return from a night out 
02. dr. feel good  you and the doctor in-house have a conversation about life 
03. my bestie jungkook feels guilty for holding you back 
04. awkward ohs you don’t understand why jungkook is suddenly so pissy
05. one year, my love  celebrating the first of many of haru’s birthday with jungkook (and sena)
06. champagne lane you and jungkook have your own little celebration by the lake
part 2; year 3 
07. common law marriage you and jungkook finally do the thing you’ve been talking about since haru’s first birthday
08. so this is love you and jungkook get the full disney experience, cliche love story included
09. back to reality  all you and haru want to do is go back home and take a nice long rest
10. silent night while you wait, unexpected closure finds their way to you
11. day by day jungkook makes a decision for his family
final; and many more — aka, your family wraps up a decade of love
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snackhobi · 10 months ago
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min yoongi is the best shot in the business. you’re the best gunsmith in the city and the only person he trusts to programme his tech; to make his gear. 
he likes your work. it’s a shame, then, that he doesn’t like you.
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pairing: yoongi x f!reader / word count: 14.3k / genre + rating: NSFW (18+), cyberpunk!au, smut, frenemies (?) to lovers
warnings/etc: hitman!yoongi. black market dealer/gunsmith!reader. cursing/explicit language. whole lotta tension, sexual and otherwise. mentions of injury/violence. minor character death (no one important, don’t worry, this isn’t an angst fic). brief hurt/comfort. reader has tattoos. sexually explicit content. oral; fingering; multiple orgasms; overstimulation (f). unprotected sex (please take the necessary precautions irl). rough sex?. choking. creampie. brief mention of aftercare. I think that’s everything but please lmk if I missed any!
a/n: thank you SO MUCH to both @hobi-gif​ and @morndas​ for beta reading this and being so supportive, ily both so much and I owe you my life 🤧💕 as always what was meant to be a short fic turned into a huge one. also this is technically for my 1.1k milestone but it’s a billion years late, oops!​
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Yoongi really doesn’t like you.
You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You needle him all the time, dig your fingernails in and squeeze, revelling in the way he sets his jaw, the muted spark of irritation in his eyes. You bat your eyelashes and tilt your head, throw it back whenever you laugh and reveal the easing column of your throat, dragging each interaction out with a kind of sadistic pleasure that has him gritting his teeth. Because you love annoying him, getting under his skin, tapping your fingers against the soft swell of your bottom lip as you eye him up, taking your time before you speak.
Infuriating. You’re infuriating and you know it.
It’s unfortunate, really, because you’re unavoidable. 
Jungkook had asked, once, why Yoongi doesn’t just go elsewhere. They’re more than familiar with the underbelly of this heaving city, underneath all the neon lights and shimmering holograms and towering skyscrapers and legal tech; the scuttling seams of back alley traders and illegal goods, tech or otherwise. There are plenty of black market dealers, after all, plenty of other vendors he could go to to get the equipment he wants. Plenty of other skilled crafters, artificers, artisans, people who would be more than happy to create the things that Yoongi asks for, that he needs. People who can get their hands on anything you want. For a price.
Yoongi’s answer had been short and succinct.
“She’s the best there is,” he’d said, and that had been that.
Because it’s true. You might be exasperating, maddening, laughing in Yoongi’s face where others might cower or genuflect, but no one is as good as you. All of Yoongi’s gear has been crafted by you; each and every single one of his weapons, his tech, the headpiece that fits so perfectly around the back of his skull that Yoongi often forgets that it’s there, hidden in his hair, unfolding across his eyes whenever he lines up a shot to make the kill—there’s evidence of your work across every inch of his body, hidden away under his clothes, day in, day out. Even when he’s not on a contract Yoongi never leaves anything to chance. 
(A walking armoury, Namjoon had called him once.)
(You’d phrased it differently.
You’re always packing, hmm? you’d hummed, rapping your fingernails in a steady beat as you’d leaned back in your chair, smiling with teeth. There was laughter in your words and your gaze, no attempt made to hide your amusement, but after your goading you’d made him a collapsible sword anyway. It’s a beautiful thing, this folding blade, bristling with plasma and energy if Yoongi needs it, lethal and deadly. One of his most prized possessions, something that’s gotten him out of multiple corners, and he owes it—you—his life.)
There’s no one on par with you. You’re a Renaissance woman, a fiercely talented polymath who doesn’t need to rely on anyone else to create the things you create. Low-tech, high-tech, no tech—you make everything from scratch, programme things yourself, hunched over each project in your own workshop with nothing but your mind and your own two hands.
It’s the only reason he puts up with you and your antics, the sharp jibes, the shameless flirting; you’re the most infuriating person he knows, but there’s no one else he would trust with the work that you do.
Unfortunately.
Which is why Yoongi finds himself here, again and again, as familiar with this studio as you are—he watches you work, sometimes, watches you sketch up blueprints and drag your fingers across your array of displays, your world cast in shifting shades of cyan and electric blue from all the tech in here, humming and alive. He likes to see how his equipment is made, after all. It can mean the difference between life and death. He takes this seriously.
It’s the one time you might be quiet. Might be quiet, because you still talk even when you work; flick your gaze between Yoongi and whatever’s set in front of you, that ever present smile spread across your lips, smug and amused. You’re only silent during the hardest jobs. Like right now, you’re intense and focused, a furrow dug between your brows as you survey his sniper rifle—almost shorn in two. (It had been the only thing to hand when he’d had to block a blow from a guard he’d somehow overlooked, no time to draw any other weapons before they’d started to brawl.)
You’d been unimpressed. You’d raised your eyebrows with all the severity of a disappointed mother, bitten words out at him with molten snideness, dripping heat and snark.
“It’s a gun, Yoongi. A gun. You know, something you shoot with? Pew pew? Blammo? I’m not sure what sort of shields and body armour you’ve seen in the past but this isn’t either of those things. Do you want me to sketch some diagrams up for you? Or maybe I could write you a book. Baby’s First Arsenal, Chapter One: The Difference Between Things That Are Guns And Things That Aren’t. Would that be helpful?”
No one else talks to Yoongi like that. No one else would dare. It’s only a rare few that know his birth name and it’s not often that he hears it, more used to the sound of Agust D falling off people’s lips. But that had been part of your price, part of the agreement when he’d first met you and asked for your services: his real name.
Yoongi had let it wash over him, had endured your tongue-lashing before putting the gun down with a heavy finality and thrust it over at you, tired of all your talk.
“Just fix it,” he’d demanded.
You’d laughed in his face.
“As always, your bedside manner leaves something to be desired,” you’d said, taking the rifle from him.
The D-2 Shadow isn’t just a weapon. It’s a piece of art, clean edges and slick lines, and Yoongi is grateful to have it back in his hands. There’s no other sniper rifle like it, made of super lightweight alloy and easy to handle; thermal scope, enhanced stabilisers for accuracy; superior kinetic coils for better shot penetration. Yoongi had asked for the best and you’d delivered. Gone above and beyond, crafted a weapon the likes of which no one else possesses, modified in ways other people can’t even fathom.
And you’d fixed it when he'd almost let it get destroyed. Made it better than new, even, layered it in more alloy to make it stronger without making it heavier, a new material of your own design. If he hadn’t known you as well as he does he’d have worried that it was beyond repair, knows that other gunsmiths would have taken one look at its crumpled body and shaken their heads, but you hadn’t. 
Of course you hadn’t. You never do.
You charge him a pretty penny for your work, make him pay through the nose for everything he asks of you, but Yoongi is more than willing to do so. More than capable of paying, coffers lined with more money than he might need, one of the best contract killers there is—the real price he pays is with his sanity, worn away each time you open your mouth. He can’t help but rise to your bait, as derisive as you are; it’s only the smallest things, a sharpness to his otherwise even tone, an angry spark in his eyes, but you pick up on it all.
He’s not your only customer. You don’t extend your services to many, only to the people you want to—Yoongi’s not sure what set of harebrained criteria you have that lets you choose who you’ll sell to and who you won’t but he can’t make heads nor tails of it. He knows he’s not part of your clientele because he’s got the credits to pay, nor is it because he’s one of the most highly regarded hitmen in his line of business. 
You don’t just choose people who can afford to pay or people who have a level of power and influence in this dark underworld you inhabit. You really don’t care about those things. You just pick and choose on a whim.
(Once, back when he’d first met you, Yoongi had discovered that you’d concocted an entirely new security system—practically incapable of being hacked, crawling with tech, a level of complexity even the richest elites could barely afford—for some small artist who’d worried that their paintings might get stolen. He was an unknown at the time, this V, squirrelled away in one of the dark corners in the lowest levels of the city, and you’d all but given him some of the best work you’d ever done, undercharged him something chronic.
You’d shrugged when Yoongi had asked why.
“He makes me laugh,” you’d replied.)
Yoongi isn’t your only customer but he’s certainly the only one you seem to treat the way you do. There’s a level of irreverence in everything you do, self-confidence settled across every inch of you like the obnoxious stench of a teenage boy’s body spray, but you seem to take particular pleasure in Yoongi’s displeasure. He’d brought Namjoon along, once, inquiring after an imitation greenhouse, how someone might set up the tech to raise tropical plants that wouldn’t survive otherwise (mostly above board, even; Namjoon might grow illicit plants, poisonous and prohibited, but he likes pretty flowers, too). And there had been none of the mocking that Yoongi receives. None of the wind ups. You’d been pleasant, despite your incessant snark, agreeing to take the job with a smile on your face that Yoongi never gets given.
(It had been infuriating, to know that you’re capable of not being an ass, but you just choose not to be. For fun.)
Yoongi really, really doesn’t like you, but he respects your work. Respects you, even if he’d never admit it out loud.
You keep your word. You don’t supply his competitors, although you claim it’s not loyalty to him and it’s only because they can’t pay as well as he does—winnings go to the highest bidder, you’d said sagely, as obtuse and irritating as always. 
But Yoongi knows other sellers will provide anyone who’s willing to pay, freelancers who peddle their wares regardless of affiliation or alliances. You’re beholden to no one and yet Yoongi knows you would never double cross him. Never supply anyone who challenges his work, even if they have the money, even if he’s on good terms with them (it’s not personal, it’s business; Yoongi has no issue with other hired killers as long as they stay out of his way). He knows he can rely on you, which is something to be treasured in these back-crossing back-stabbing backstreets.
So when he makes his way to your door, the details of a new contract still fresh in his mind, he instantly comes to a stop.
There’s something off. He can tell immediately, years of instinct causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise, every part of him on edge. Everything looks normal, is normal, but there’s a burning in his gut that has Yoongi’s finger itching for the trigger even though there’s nothing to shoot. 
You’ve granted him the privilege of access to your workshop, to the other rooms, entered the scans of his hand and eye and voice into the security systems, keep him updated on the varying passwords you cycle through, so he can enter whenever he needs to. 
(He’s woken you up on more than one occasion, roused you from sleep for last minute supplies before he leaves for another contract, appearing in the dead of night like a spectre of death, clothing dark and eyes darker, overflowing with weaponry. A looming silhouette edged in strokes of cyan and magenta from the ever present, low-level neon light in your room, so much darker than the bright lights of your workshop. Intimidating. 
And you always just roll your eyes and sigh and tell him to keep a better eye on his cache of equipment and climb out of bed for him. You’re so at odds to him in your sleep rumpled clothing and mussed hair, still unafraid even when he’s fully geared and ready to kill; shirt slipping off your shoulder, swathes of bare skin in the place of Yoongi's all-encompassing outfit, shimmering black light tattoos visible on your legs and arms and bare skin of your collarbones, geometric lines in the palest of blues and greens. You hand over whatever he needs and tell him the creds he owes you.
“I’ve already given you a key to my apartment and you haven’t even taken me for dinner once,” you sigh—dramatic and melodramatic—even as you hand over a bundle of crossbow bolts. The synthesised toxin inside the darts is your own concoction, of course, courtesy of the plant matter provided from Namjoon’s greenhouse.
“I’d literally rather be shot in the head than willingly spend time with you,” he replies.
“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid,” you say, and just laugh in the face of his unimpressed deadpan. As insufferable as always.)
So he doesn’t need your permission to enter. He’s silent, light-footed as he makes his way inside, scanning each inch of this familiar interior; nothing’s wrong, not yet, but Yoongi can sense something in the air. Something heavy, settled bitter on his tongue, coating the back of his throat.
And then he walks into your workshop.
You’re meticulous. Even when you’re overrun with gear, with parts that have yet to be used, everything has its place. You prefer paper over datapads, too, tack sheets of designs and notes up on the wall, have clipboards and stacks of sheets set neatly in their place, a throwback to a time before tech ruled everything. Yoongi knows the layout of this room as well as he knows his own home, a mental map of straight lines and unwavering coordinates with you in the centre of it all.
Upheaval. Those neat lines of organised cartography have been pulled apart. Ham-handed work, to be sure, more of a statement than anything else; intent to instil fear rather than to destroy (although, Yoongi sees now that one of the monitors has been smashed, display sparking white and blue as it bleeds out electricity.). Even in the darkness of the room—overhead lights off and only emergency lighting on, painting things in shades of dark crimson and pink—Yoongi can tell that whichever interlopers have done this are already gone. The room is empty.
Then the sound of a clatter breaks the silence and Yoongi’s already got his pistol out, drawn without a thought as he approaches the sound that comes from the back room, fleet-footed and silent as he raises the gun and rounds the corner—
And sees you at the end of the barrel.
There’s a first aid kit on the floor. Packs of medi-gel and rolls of bandages and other supplies scattered around your feet. You haven’t even spotted Yoongi yet, in despair at the mess in front of you; he’s never seen you like this, never seen anything other than your veneer of enraging smugness and never-ending energy.
“Y/n?” 
You flinch even as your head snaps around, eyes wide—but the second you see Yoongi you visibly relax, even though he’s still holding a gun in your direction.
There’s a bruise blossoming across your left cheek.
“Ah, Yoongi.” The smile that paints itself across your lips is almost convincing despite the dark flower that’s unfolding on your skin, blood rising to the surface and painting it in hues of pain; you wince, a little, when the smile makes your wound ache. Soldier onwards as you act as though nothing is wrong. “I know you’re always desperate for my attention but do you mind giving me a second? I’m kind of indisposed at the moment.”
Yoongi’s lips are set in a thin line. He only has one question on his mind.
“Who did this to you?”
Your gaze flickers before you break eye contact, staring at the first aid supplies on the floor. “What, this? Have you never dropped something before?”
Yoongi ignores your deflection. It only takes a few moments to reholster the pistol, to step over to you, to grasp your chin and tilt your face towards him.
“Who did this to you?”
Yoongi’s tone is quiet and low, firm and undeniable. For the first time since he’s met you it seems as though you’re lost for words, lips parted around a silent sound of surprise as you’re subjected to the full force of Yoongi’s gaze, cutting through you; past every layer of self-inflated narcissism you put on, past every deflection you might make.
There's a beat of silence.
And then you slowly but irrevocably fold underneath the weight of his stare.
You let him lead you, sit you down, bowing to his hands and his directions. You’re silent throughout, lips an unfamiliar shape as they’re pulled down into the slightest of frowns. He’s only ever seen you smile, seen you laugh, self-assured. Never like this.
You seem surprised, startled when he sits across from you and cracks open a pack of medi-gel. Yoongi’s surprised too, although he doesn’t show it, lets his instincts take over and settles into auto-pilot as he reaches for your face. He’s never seen your eyes so round, so wide, watching the hand that descends on your cheek with all the single-minded intent of a man about to fillet a fish—careful and practiced but menacing, maybe. (He doesn’t like you but you don’t deserve to have been hurt and Yoongi can’t just stand by and not help.)
And you don’t shy away. You stare at him as he stares at his fingers, layers the gel evenly across the pain of your bruise, cool and soothing.
It’s only when he’s reached for more medi-gel and touched your cheek for the second time that you finally speak.
“It was one of the Tang cousins.”
Yoongi goes still, fingers resting across your skin, slick with purple gel. 
“One of the cousins?”
Yoongi doesn’t like you. But—and God knows what he did wrong in a previous life for this to be true—you’re one of his inner circle, one of the very, very few people he trusts. You’re not friends and he doesn’t like you, but he owes you, owes you a hundred times over, owes you for every successful kill, every silent infiltration, every averted detection. All thanks to your tech and the work you put into it for him. He’s indebted to you.
Yoongi always pays his debts.
“I didn’t even catch his name.” You sound dismissive. Normally you’d laugh, deride the person you’re speaking about, but instead you just sound tired. “One of the low down ones. New kid on the block; someone I didn’t recognise, with some lackeys or similar. Trying to make a name for himself, I think. He demanded that I build weapons for him. I said no.”
The Tang family is a big one, a criminal empire that has its tendrils dug in everywhere. You don’t deal with them, have no interest throwing your lot in with them intentionally or not; it’s a big, formidable family, but it’s not the only one around. You’d be dumb to get involved in that mess of generational, cross-family conflict. You’ll sell things to the highest bidder, shift illicit high-tech stock, build generic modifications that people can buy—but you don’t make bespoke weaponry for just anyone.
You don’t even sell to the heads of the Tang family directly, let alone to some back-alley sewer rat who probably barely has the faintest ties to the family, a single vein of Tang blood in his body, just enough to give him an in.
Whoever this cousin was he must be really fucking stupid to not know that. Stupid to think he could demand anything from you. Stupid to think he could hurt you when you laughed in his face and said no. Anyone with half a brain-cell should know not to fuck with you, know that it’s an honour to even be allowed inside your workshop, that to be told ‘no’ by you is a privilege.
Stupid to think that he wasn’t going to pay for that stupidity.
The pack of medi-gel is empty, the deflated pouch forgotten on Yoongi’s knee as he stares at you. The flecks of biomatter in the gel catch the light, sparkling like glitter in the lavender that’s seeping into your skin; all the surprise is gone from your eyes and instead you’re just watching him, stolid and steady. Analytical.
(You’re smart. Yoongi knows you are. For all that you talk shit and play foolish, he never forgets about that fierce intelligence. Never underestimates you or how perceptive you are. He only wonders what’s on your mind right now; what it is that you see in front of you.)
“Next time don’t let someone in unless you’re certain you’re going to sell to them.”
You scoff in his face. “Alright, Dad. Do you want to update my curfew while you’re at it? Make it ten p.m. instead of eleven?”
Yoongi blinks slowly. You’ve got both eyebrows raised, surveying him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief that he’s trying to tell you what to do (because no one tells you what to do; they wouldn't dare). But you don’t pull away, your knees still touching his, body bowed towards him from when he’d coaxed you closer so he could reach your face—so he knows you don’t mind. Not really.
(Knows you don’t care about anyone’s opinions or rules, only sticking to your own. The fact you’d been shaken from that place of confidence by some thug—even for a moment—doesn’t sit right in Yoongi’s belly. That bitter taste is back in his throat and it’s ice cold, icicles prickling through his blood.)
(He doesn’t like you but you’re one of his people and no one fucks with Yoongi’s people.)
The bruise is still there days later, after you’ve rearranged your workshop back to the way it was, sourced a new monitor to replace the one that was broken. You’re back to smirking, already ready for his request, more bullets for his weapons and super-charged plasma to recharge his sword, but the bruise is a stark reminder of what you’ve been through. So is, too, the new blueprint he spies half finished on your open displays: an automated security system that scans thermal signatures, guns unfolding from the ceiling whenever aggressive movement is detected from an unfamiliar person. Anyone who’s not listed as familiar in the security logs. 
(Yoongi used to wonder about that. Why you didn’t have security mechs set in place, programming their AI to protect you, but you don’t like to use mechs. Don’t like to use them, even if you could afford to build them, because you compare it to forced servitude. You’ve never needed them before now, anyway. Safe in your reputation, knowing that you’re in a position of power, that people come here because they know you’re the best of the best.)
(But it seems like you don’t trust that any more. Don’t feel safe.)
Yoongi keeps as silent as always, bites his tongue when you cut him off mid-sentence with nothing more than a raised finger.
“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut, wagging the finger back and forth like the slow pendulum of a grandfather clock. “No more crafting requests. I’m still working on the concentration mod you asked for and I’ll let you know when it’s ready. I don't rush for anyone. Patience is a virtue, baby. Did no one ever tell you that?”
“Don’t call me baby.”
“Okay, handsome.” Your reply is instant, unruffled, and Yoongi grits his teeth. 
But still. For all that you’re acting like normal, workshop set back into place, white lighting shining overhead, as neat and presentable as always—Yoongi can read uncertainty in the way you move. Discomfort. You don’t feel safe in your own space and it’s obvious, even if you don’t realise it.
“Come back any time,” you say coyly, and Yoongi, as always, ignores you. Transfers the creds he owes you in silence before he takes one last look at the bruise that’s still painted across your skin, dark eyes touching yours for the briefest moment before he turns and leaves.
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For the first time since you met, Yoongi buys from someone who isn’t you.
It’s not bad. Well made, decent tech, Predator pistol sitting easy in his hands when he brings it to the light and watches it unfold from its holstered state, the way plasma bursts to life in the barrel; weaker than bullets but easier to reload in the field. It’s no surprise that the Yeom family gets their stuff sourced from here. The body armour, too, isn’t bad, engraved with the family crest and cast in their colours.
It’s not bad, but it’s not as good as it could be. Not as good as Yoongi needs his tech to be, demands it to be—but quality doesn’t matter. Not today. He has a job to do.
It’s easy to find his mark. Scum gathers in stagnant water, in the dirtiest and dankest places, and this is where Yoongi finds Tang Lee. Finds him spilling beer and money in the backroom of some grimy strip club where the holograms flicker from age and the strippers are tired, trying their best to scrape a living from the seething riverbed of filth that runs underneath the bright neon lights of the skyscrapers in the levels above.
Lee isn’t alone but it’s so easy to take them out it’s laughable, men drunk from cheap alcohol; Yoongi catches one in a chokehold, smashes another’s face into the glass table with enough force it shatters, faces Lee once they’re the only two standing. The music outside is too loud and the room is sound proofed for privacy and so Yoongi isn’t interrupted as he brings Lee to his knees, thrusting his face into a smear of blood that drips from his now-broken nose, courtesy of a quick jab of Yoongi’s right fist.
It’s not a quick kill. It could be. Yoongi could have ended this in moments, caught Lee off guard and ended his miserable life almost effortlessly—but he doesn’t. He takes his time, makes it count, teaches him a lesson, has Lee on his hands and knees as he sobs out apologies and snivels for mercy before he takes the pistol and blows his brains out. Yoongi doesn’t feel sorry for the man, eyes the body impassively, not even worth his disgust—he only feels sorry for whoever finds the chaos of the room and the bodies inside, the distinct plasma burns he purposefully leaves in the wall with the Predator pistol, the entire scene he’s created here: a scuffle gone wrong, fast.
You’re not the only person Tang Lee has crossed but you’ll be the last. Yoongi checks the pulses of the other two men, finds one dead and the other still alive, barely, just like he’d planned—and his work is done. It’s the Yeom family’s problem now, any fall out from Lee’s death pointed at them, a repayment of a slight Lee had made to a Yeom supplier only a few weeks ago. (Yoongi wagers that neither family will care, will draw a veil over this moment and let this settle without raising arms, no one important enough to go to war over.)
He discards the pistol and armour once he’s done, incinerates it all, no interest in keeping subpar equipment. It’s not even worth dismantling for parts. Hoseok finds him in their basement, eyeing the blue flames that lick their way around the discarded armaments; he just watches Yoongi, inscrutable and calm as he eyes the blood on the clothing before it bursts into flames.
“Not a contract,” Hoseok says. (It’s not a question.)
“A job.” Yoongi replies, watches the cloth turn to ash through the thrumming display of the incinerator. “Something that needed to be done.”
He doesn’t tell anyone what he’s done. There’s no point in it. Yoongi decides something needs to be done and he’ll do it, whether that’s building a new chair for Jungkook after he broke his old one or killing a man who hurt you.
The next time he sees you your bruise is practically gone, faded into your skin. You’re intent on something on a monitor but when you notice him you turn, swivelling in your chair in one smooth motion as you lean back and put your hands behind your head, cross one leg over the other, dripping self-satisfaction, your smile sharp and full of teeth.
“Ah, Yoongi.” You look so smug that Yoongi has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Welcome, once again, to my laboratory. Is this visit for business or pleasure? Either way, you know I'm happy to oblige.”
“I’m here for the mod you promised me,” he says bluntly, and you just keep smiling, even as you hold out a hand for the sniper rifle, handling the D-2 Shadow with as much reverence as Yoongi does as you affix the mod.
It’s perfect, of course. All that Yoongi asked for and more. The software links with his eyepiece, biometric sensors that help him find his target, software to adjust to his pulse and breathing.
“You can even change the colour of the HUD,” you say, as if it’s some sort of buy-one-get-one-free offer, some fun little feature, rather than another helpful piece of software that you’ve created. Dismissive. An afterthought.
(You act like you take nothing seriously. Yoongi is your stark opposite, weighing everything in his hands and treating it with the level of attention it deserves, intent and focused.)
He’s staring down the scope when you speak once more. Light and easy, for once, rather than loud with your usual exaggerated exuberance or silken with unnecessary suggestiveness.
“I hear that they found a Tang family member dead.”
Yoongi just hums in response. Keeps his eye on the scope, wills the colour from dark green to white using the affinity link he has synced with his headpiece, watches the lines of the heads up display of the scope repaint themselves without even a single flicker, transition smooth and effortless. (Perfection.)
“It seems like the Yeom family did it,” you say, tone still conversational.
“Is that so.” Yoongi sounds disinterested, face impassive as he draws the gun away from his face, eye piece automatically folding away from his eyes. “Can I ask about other mods now that this one is finished?”
One of your brows rises, a perfect curve of discontent. “Say thank you first, Yoongi.”
Yoongi’s eyes cut into yours but you don’t back down, watch his blank face as he eventually says: “Thank you. Now I need more mods.”
You throw your head back as you laugh. “You’re insatiable,” you say, but you don’t say no. “What do you want now?”
(It’s not that you never say no to Yoongi. Because you have, and you do, and you will. But never because you can’t make what he asks for—and only because you refuse to make things that might endanger his safety, illicit bio-mods that other hired hitmen use, things that degrade the body from the inside out.)
Yoongi’s just holstered the Shadow, ready to go, when you speak one final time.
“Yoongi?”
He’s never heard you say his name like that, soft and quiet.
“Thanks.” You’re staring at him, regarding him steadily, solemn in a way that he’s never seen. You’re smiling, as always, but the expression is lightyears away from what Yoongi is used to—just the barest hint of an upturn to your lips.
Yoongi stares back at you. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”
Your smile grows, a warm thing, unfurling like a flower. Almost affectionate. “Sure,” you say. “Of course. Silly me. Slip of the tongue.” And then, as if your brain’s only just caught up with what you just said, the smile turns salacious. “On the note of slipping the tongue—”
“Bye.”
Your cascading laughter follows him on his way out, cutting and shining with amusement. 
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Yoongi’s been getting more contracts. He’s finally buckled under Jungkook’s insistent whining and has agreed to get gear for him, too, to train him how to shoot. Hoseok has more than enough contacts in the underworld to get jobs for them both—he’s the most powerful information broker around, after all, sitting in the centre of a web he’s woven after years of work, all that sharpness and darkness hidden behind his deceptively bright smile.
(Yoongi’s lucky to consider him a friend and not an enemy.)
So that’s why he’s here with increasing frequency. That’s why he finds himself at your door more often than not. To get those orders in place, to make sure they’re progressing as fast as they need to.
You never react when Yoongi steps into your workshop. Well, you do, you lean into your hand and smirk at him, pursing your lips around each snide remark, each suggestive comment—but you never question his appearance. You just go with the flow, unbothered by his presence, even when there are other people there—other customers who eye him with unveiled curiosity and confusion (some Yoongi recognises, some he doesn’t, well-known faces and unknowns alike; none of them know who he is, though, unrecognisable as Agust D without his battle gear on). Yoongi keeps a close eye on their stances, any unchecked aggression or hostility towards you. Keeps a watch on the tension of your shoulders and spine, because of… habit. Battle instinct. Nothing else.
“You know my policy, Yoongi.” You’re analysing something in your hand. It looks like an antique spyglass, something from the decades before technology overtook the world, but it’s jammed full of tech; it doesn’t just magnify to a terrifying degree, it also amplifies sound, connected to an earpiece that’s sleek and easy to overlook. ‘A small project’, you’d called it, as if it isn’t something that people would pay a fortune to own. “If I’m making something for someone I have to meet them first. If you want me to make anything for this ‘JK’ then it’s not happening until you bring him here. Just like with your friend RM.”
Yoongi is lolling by your monitors, half-asleep in your chair (which had moulded to the shape of his body the second he sat in it, designed to be too comfortable for its own good). 
“I know you can’t pull yourself away from me,” you continue, glancing up from the scope. “But you have to spend time with your friends sometimes. I know they’re not as pleasing to look at as me—”
“Stop.”
You shift the spyglass to one hand and lean your chin on the other, regarding him with sharp eyes and an amused quirk to your lips. “I love that you think you can tell me what to do.”
Yoongi resists the urge to make a noise at the back of his throat, opting to keep mum instead.
He’s too tired to argue with you. He’d come straight after a contract, blood still on the edge of his sleeves (not his), watched the way your eyebrows had risen when you’d casually taken in the state of him before offering to wash his jacket. You know the reality of this world you both inhabit, operating in the shadows, survival paid for in blood; you might not be on the high ground, lining the shot up to take the kill, but you craft the trigger that Yoongi pulls.
(You might be aware of this reality but you’re far removed from it, shaken by violence on your own door. You never should have been faced with it. You’re an inventor; a creator. Not a killer. Not like Yoongi is. He’s not going to let that happen again. He doesn’t like you but you shouldn’t have been subject to pain—shouldn’t still have your motions edged with a held breath, as if you’re waiting for it to repeat itself. 
No matter how well you hide it, Yoongi knows that there's a part of you that's still scared.)
“I know you think you’re too important to need to remember things, but we’ve worked together for long enough that you know that I’d ask to meet JK first, Yoongi,” you say. “Did you really have to come straight after murking someone just to be reminded about that? Not complaining—you know I love seeing that pretty scowl of yours—but I just figured you’d rather be resting right now. Don't tell me the infamous Agust D missed me and decided to come here instead.”
“You were on the way.”
(He’d circled around, taken a longer route, descended into the familiar maze of the lower city. To throw off the scent of any potential pursuers. You just happened to be nearby, pure coincidence and convenience.)
You retract the spyglass, collapsing it in your hands. “Either you leave right now and go to your own place to sleep, or you’re going to sleep in my bed. Your choice.”
(If Yoongi took the time to think about it, really think about it, he’d notice that the words aren’t shrouded in suggestion or insinuation. Your brows are raised and you’re looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to decide what he’s going to do—unimpressed at how tired he is, how he’s come here instead of sliding into his own bed for the rest he so clearly needs.)
Of course, Yoongi leaves. He returns home without his jacket, strips his shirt off as soon as he’s in this safe place, this base, sheds pieces of his body armour as easy as anything (you’d designed it to be lightweight and easy to don and doff, the perfect defence for someone who relied on stealth and speed); he’s just removing the last greave when Hoseok appears, rapping his knuckles against the open door.
“You’re finally back.”
Yoongi looks up. Hoseok is dressed for work, Hope Broker persona in place, tailored suit that sits perfectly with the lines of his body, handsome and stylish and entirely put together. He oozes poise and power. Elegance.
“Yeah.” Yoongi lets the greave drop, silent as it falls to the floor. “Job’s done.”
Hoseok smiles. It’s a genuine one because it’s for Yoongi. “I know,” he says, even though scarcely any time has passed since Yoongi put a bullet in the back of the target’s skull. Nothing happens in this world of theirs without Hoseok finding out about it, always sooner rather than later. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay.”
“All good.” 
“Good.” Hoseok is used to Yoongi’s blunt nature, his short responses when he’s tired. “Get some sleep.”
Hoseok’s elegant even as he adjusts his cufflinks. It’s just the briefest of moments, the crisp edge of his perfectly white sleeve contrasting with the shining silver, the design inlaid in them—but Yoongi recognises that design immediately.
Because it’s yours.
It’s the same emblem on each piece of his gear, small and understated, hidden away, easy to miss—but Yoongi knows it intimately. He doesn’t say anything. Lets Hoseok leave without a word. Each one of the men that Yoongi considers family, the tiny collection of people that stay in this same home as him, know that he only gets equipment sourced from you—but Hoseok had never mentioned that he’s been in contact with you, too. 
It’s not important. Hoseok might be his friend and a staunch ally but there’s plenty that he gets up to that none of the others are privy to, trading information to the highest bidders, head of a huge network that Yoongi can use to his advantage but isn’t technically a part of. The people Hoseok deals with—buys his information and resources from, keeps perfectly balanced in comparison to his own power—is his own business and not Yoongi’s.
Yoongi moves to gather his armour, the hardsuit he wears like a second skin, and spots that insignia that he knows so well branded into it. To have Hoseok wearing it at his wrist—the Hope Broker, renowned trader of secrets—is a statement. You could have made the cufflinks plain and unadorned. But you hadn’t.
When Yoongi climbs into bed that night, he finds that his sleep is restless.
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The smile on your face fades. “You know I don’t talk about business with other customers.”
Yoongi’s staring at you across your workbench, the light from its surface going dim as you take your hands off it, disassembled stun mine forgotten.
No one knows about his genuine friendship with Hoseok, but they do know that Agust D and the Hope Broker have an agreement; a professional working relationship. “I know the Hope Broker,” Yoongi says. 
Your eyebrows rise so far they seem to threaten to ascend into your hairline, you’re so incredulous. “Everyone does. What’s your point? Do you expect me to give you information about everyone you ask about? I get paid to keep people’s privacy, Yoongi. Do you think I sell the information of your equipment, how to dissemble every defence you have? Do you think I give your name out to everyone who asks?”
There’s no touch of amusement to the line of your lips, no sparkling irreverence in your eyes. You’re genuinely displeased.
“He’s wearing your symbol.”
You scoff. “You wear my symbol too. Why, are you jealous? Your armour has exactly the same technology. Better, even, because I can fit more tech in there.”
The cufflinks generate a kinetic barrier, then, a layer of invisible shielding that lays just atop Hoseok’s skin. But no one sees Yoongi’s armour; no one sees the workmanship of your weapons, no one except him. Your insignia isn’t emblazoned on his wrist for all to see.
Yoongi isn’t jealous.
“Hope is a powerful man,” you continue. “Everyone knows that. Even people who haven’t met him know that. Even people who aren’t sure he exists know that. If I want to sell to him then that’s my business.”
Everyone who’s anyone recognises your logo, no matter how rare it is to spot it (you only craft for a select few, after all). And Hoseok’s influence is far reaching and powerful; no one would dare cross him, dare to cross anyone who’s associated with him. 
“I’m looking for a new workshop.” You rise, moving away from your workbench to your monitors, touching a display with your fingers to bring it to life. Ignoring Yoongi’s presence, not even looking at him. “I haven’t got the space to modify the systems in this one as much as I want to. The walls are already full enough as it is. Do you know how hard it is to find somewhere with the specifications I need?”
Yoongi realises, then, why you’re doing this. The bruise is long gone and your skin is unmarred but you still don’t feel safe. You’ve always worked alone. Until now. Now you’re making moves to settle down, settle in, make a statement of allegiance to someone who can offer you a level of protection with their influence.
Someone who can offer you somewhere new, away from this inadequate place you’ve outgrown.
Hoseok laughs lightly when Yoongi asks about it, mentions it in passing as the two of them drink soju side by side, Hoseok in his suit and Yoongi girded in the armour under his unassuming clothes, both in the upper city for work; they stare down at the myriads of tall buildings and huge holo-boards and rainbow array of neon lights, far above the place they call home.
“Oh, yeah,” he says, utterly relaxed (and faintly amused). “I know you respect her work so I thought I’d reach out. I’m surprised she can make the things she does in that tiny workshop. You’re right; she’s very good.”
You are. The next time you meet, you give Yoongi his usual shipment and more besides, more than he’d ordered, reflected in the amount of creds he has to pay—because he won’t be able to just drop in for a while, your workshop dismantled and scraped empty in preparation for the move. Where to, he doesn’t know, but you say you’ll pass on the information once everything is up and running again.
“If you break any of your gear while I’m gone then you’re on your own,” you say. “I’m not shipping anything before my new workshop is finished.”
Two days later, Yoongi spies a new watch on Hoseok’s wrist. It looks low-tech, old style, metal strap and round clock face—but he sees the silhouette of your logo under those ticking hands and knows there’s more tech in there that meets the eye.
He looks away.
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It takes a week for the message to appear, encrypted: your new location. Levels above your former workshop, one of the higher strata of the lower city—still hidden and out of the way but away from the dirt and darkness. 
Yoongi goes. He finds the door panel, scans his palm, leans forward for the light to flit across his eye, murmurs a word, watches the door slide open. He’s already programmed in. New workshop, new security system, but he’s still allowed in, still one of the people you consider familiar, trustworthy. 
(He doesn’t know of anyone else who fits that category. Has only ever seen you manually allow people inside, granting your permission each time, rather than giving them free run of the place. No one has as many complex orders as he does, he’s certain. It’s for ease and practicality’s sake.)
He’s unfamiliar with the layout of this new building, first corridor already longer than he’s used to; he pauses for a moment but then hears something, faint—your laughter. Follows that sound, makes his way forward, through polished corridors with lines of light underfoot, leading him down some stairs and towards the sound of you.
Your new workshop is beautiful. There’s enough room in here for everything, no need for a backroom: a central worktable, benches lining the walls, tech displays built in, everything edged with lighting, dark surfaces shining bright, large floor panels underfoot emitting a low glow. Your former home had been that underground workshop and a locked door to a ladder to your micro apartment up top, tiny kitchen and single bed in a small room with a shower cubicle in the corner. Yoongi already knows that this building is far, far bigger, and you have more space than you’ve ever had before; you’d never been discontent with your smaller home, comfort from familiarity, until that comfort had been stripped from you.
You’re smiling. The snark woven into your words that Yoongi is used to is muted, light comment falling from your lips as you sit on that central table, perched on its edge. And Hoseok, he laughs, grinning so widely his teeth are on show—he’s wearing a suit but his jacket is resting on his shoulders, tie undone and cast around his neck. A stance of relaxation, one Yoongi’s never seen from him, not when he’s working. Not when he’s The Hope Broker and not Hoseok.
He’s still smiling when he notices Yoongi, the two of you looking over when the hitman speaks.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, Hoseok.”
That ever-present smirk freezes on your face for a split second, eyes widening at the sound of Hope’s real name. Hoseok just takes it in stride, his smile not dimming even for a second.
“Hey, Yoongi.” His greeting is as warm as it always is. “Just checking in. Have to make sure everything is up to scratch. What’s the verdict?”
You’ve hidden your surprise, wiped it off your face, eyes on Hoseok as you answer him. “It’s perfect.” A pause. “I take it you two know each other?”
“Sure. Yoongi is an old friend of mine.” Hoseok is still smiling, looking at Yoongi with creased eyes. Unafraid of revealing this information to you, still at ease despite the tension that’s bubbling in the air, Yoongi’s impassive face. Hoseok is always an unshaken pillar of positivity. “I didn’t realise he was coming. Am I interrupting an appointment?”
You stare at Yoongi. “No, you’re not. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”
(You’d sent the message less than an hour ago. Yoongi had taken one look at the address, memorised it, pulled on his jacket and headed out; clearly you hadn’t anticipated how fast his arrival would be.)
“A happy coincidence, then.” Hoseok sounds like he genuinely means it, is pleased to see Yoongi here, his smile unwavering. There’s a languid set to his body, the easing line of his spine, hands in his pockets. A glittering in his eyes. (No one ever gets the drop on Hoseok, never surprises him, catches him off guard, no matter what they do.) “But I’ll let you conduct your business and we can catch up another time.”
He takes a hand out of his pocket as he walks past Yoongi, pats his shoulder amicably. His palm is relaxed against the tense set of Yoongi’s shoulders before he ascends the stairs and disappears out of sight, the sound of his polished shoes fading until he’s gone, one of the monitors on the wall flickering to indicate the front door is shut once more.
You’re still staring at Yoongi. The atmosphere had been heavy, even with Hoseok there—and now that he’s gone there’s nothing to alleviate that pressure, nothing to dissolve the strange twist to the air.
“Who,” you start, measured but sharp, “do you think you are?”
Yoongi returns your stare, looks back at you with his dark eyes. Doesn’t respond to your question; an unnecessary, unprompted thing, razor-edged for a reason he can’t discern. 
“Can’t you hear me?” You slide off the table, stalk towards him. “I said—” you raise a hand— “who? Do? You? Think? You? Are?”
You emphasise each word with a sharp jab to Yoongi’s chest, driving your finger forward with so much force it must hurt. You keep it in place, keep it dug into the centre of his ribcage. There’s no laughter hidden in the corner of your lips. He’s annoyed you again, somehow, a familiar guest turned unwelcome interloper.
“You say that you know Hope and yet I just watched you treat him like dirt.” Your eyes are piercing, cutting through the soft frame of your curled lashes, boring straight into him. “You come into my workshop as if you’re meant to be here; like there’s something you’re owed. Do you want me to treat you like a child, send you to your room? Not let you back in here? Because I will.”
“You sent me your address,” Yoongi points out.
You let out a bark of laughter. “Please.” Your hand drops back to your side and you turn, stepping away. “I’ve sent this address to all my business associates. I can’t sell or buy unless people can find me. You’re the only one who’s taken this as an invitation to just turn up and waltz in. At least when Hope turns up he warns me beforehand. Oh, and he doesn’t say stuff like he’d rather blow his own brains out than be forced to see me. I know you just love being contrary but has it ever occurred to you to be more polite to people? You’d make a terrible waiter. You’d get fired on your first day.”
You’re in front of one of your cabinets. You reach inside for something, hefting it in your hands before returning, handling it in a way that’s completely unceremonious, dropping it to the bench at his side like you want to be rid of it. Like you don’t even want to hand it directly to him, to interact with him. “There. Nothing but a pleasure doing business with you, Yoongi, even if your customer service still needs improving.”
It looks like a flat, hexagonal panel, the same colour and material as his armour. Something to be locked into it, wired in, trailing veins of unattached tech spilling from it. He’s seen you working on this for a while, seen you draw up blueprints with a bruise fresh on your cheek, seen it turned in your hands as that mark had faded and left your skin. 
It’s not something he ordered.
“What is this?”
You wave a dismissive hand. “Auto medi-gel distributor. It syncs with your armour and senses when you’ve been hurt and disperses gel in the affected area. Your armour’s always been too lightweight to have extra mods on but I’ve been working on this for a while.”
It’s an astonishing piece of tech. Usually one that’s reserved for heavier armour, restricting and hard to move in but easier to mod—but this thing is slim, compact, the same technology crammed into a smaller package without losing any of its punch. He doesn’t know what materials you’ve had to use to circumvent this, the level of tech you’ve layered into this, the amount of time and thought you’ve put into this.
“How much is it?”
The wrong thing to say. The smile that spreads itself across your lips is an echo of its usual curve, brittle and flaking around the edges, a baring of teeth.
“It’s a gift, Yoongi. Usually when someone does something for you, you return the favour.” Your lips are still upturned but your eyes are unsmiling even when your tone seems whimsical and light. You’ve got on your usual flippant façade, but there’s a pointed undercurrent to it. “You know, I don’t understand you at all. You remind me that you don’t like me but then you always hang around. You kill someone who threatened me and pretend that you didn’t do it. You say you don’t like me, but I thought you at least respected me, and yet here you are. Lying to me and treating me like I'm a fool.”
“I do respect you,” Yoongi says. 
(Because he does, and as much as he would hate to inflate your ego, he doesn’t shy away from telling the truth.)
“Sure you do.” An unimpressed eye-roll, cutting under his words, knocking his feet out from underneath him. You don’t care to believe him. “This is my fault for not treating you the same as all my other business associates.  Next time you come in you’ll have to have an appointment, just like everyone else. It’ll minimise the amount of time we have to spend together.”
Yoongi doesn’t like you. He finds, though, that he likes the sound of this even less; finds it pulling at his brows, his mouth, impassive expression turned to one of disapproval.
And his mouth opens. The word falls from his lips before he has a chance to think—years of battle intuition, years of following instinct, moving as he needs to in the moment.
“No.”
A raise of the brows. A purse of the lips. Incredulous. “No?” you parrot it back, mocking. “Oh, okay, sure. Never mind. You’re welcome to come in whenever you want and act like you have free rein of the place. There’s nothing I enjoy more than your scowling presence.”
Sharp tongued, sharp eyed, narrowed at him: a confrontation. For all that you needle him you never mean it, really (even if it’s still infuriating, aggravating). But right now? Right now each of your words is barbed, your sarcasm a defence, an offence. You’re running your mouth not just to rile him, but to ward him away. 
“You’re really not as smart as you think you are, Min Yoongi.” You wield his name like a weapon. “You tell me right now why I should listen to you. What do you come here for? And don’t say it’s for my work because it stopped being just that a long time ago. And if it is just for my work then take it and go. Then I’ll take you off the security system and we’ll only see each other as much as is strictly necessary. In fact, you could pass your orders along via Hope—then we won’t have to even see each other at all. ”
“And then he’ll be the only one allowed free rein?”
It comes out before he’s even really thought about what he’s saying, which isn’t like him at all. Yoongi is two parts: pure, honed instinct, and careful, wary vigilance. He’s not like you, saying the first thing that comes to mind—not normally, anyway—but the words jump from his lips, from some near-silent part of him that balks at the idea. Of Hoseok stepping into your space the way that Yoongi does, appearing without warning, to be greeted with a curled smirk and glittering eyes.
“You’re a fucking idiot if you think that you’re not the only person with security clearance. My God. You’re infuriating. Seriously? I didn’t realise you were genuinely this dense. You’re the only one I’ve ever allowed in without prior agreement.” You emphasise this statement with another jab to his chest, your finger a sharp knife that cuts into him as you stab it forwards.
He catches your wrist. His grasp is firm but there’s no pressure to it; doesn’t squeeze, doesn’t tighten his fingers, just holds you in place. You’re staring at him with a challenge in your eyes, one that he finds himself rising to match, never one to back down.
“Is that so?”
Your hand unfurls, fingers splayed across his chest; he’s still holding your wrist, shifting with your movement. “Don’t be obtuse.” An irritated exhale. “Normally you complain whenever I talk and now you’re trying to get me to repeat myself. Again with the inconsistency, Yoongi. Make up your mind.”
He could do what you do whenever you’re feeling particularly aggravating. Play dumb, ask more questions, drag out the interaction until you’re bordering on snapping—but he doesn’t. He looks at the set of your jaw, the way you’re staring at him. Unflinching. You’ve never been scared of him, and you aren’t now, not with how he’s got a hold of you, how close he is to you.
He toes the line. Shifts closer. Notes the way your pupils dilate, how the tips of your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt; how the air grows heavier, a frisson of electricity crackling through it. Yoongi doesn’t like you, but he likes that feeling—how the tension in the air shivers from indignation into something different.
Because you’re still staring at him, and there’s still that hard set to your jaw, but there’s not just anger in your eyes. There’s that warm thing he’s grown used to seeing, smouldering in near silence until he’d coaxed it to full flame, thrown gasoline onto the coals when he’d shot plasma into the back of Tang Lee’s skull. He’d protected you even though he hadn’t needed to, doesn’t need to, but does anyway—because he trusts you and there’s no one else he trusts to keep you safe.
And there’s no one else you trust, either.
“You talk too much,” Yoongi says, like he so often does—but there’s no irritation in it, touched instead with a simmering heat, the faintest edge of a bite.
You tilt your head. There’s a provocation etched into the twist of your mouth, the way your lips lift. Because no matter how much you needle him, dig your fingernails into every crack of his armour and twist—no matter how annoying you are, how angry you make him—you know that he’s not mad. Not really. Not in a way that makes you afraid, but in a way that thrills you, makes you want to see him snap, to wipe away that level facade he maintains.
“Maybe you should shut me up, then,” you reply, a murmur. A challenge.
A beat. Yoongi’s fingers tighten around your wrist. A warning.
And in response?
You just smile.
The way your eyes widen just seconds later is delicious, though, when Yoongi lets go of your wrist—because he’s moving faster than you expected. Your surprise melts into delight, a spark of glee that says you’ve gotten exactly what you want when Yoongi threads his fingers in your hair, tilting your head back to bare the column of your throat. He holds you firmly in place, crowds you back against the workbench so hard its edge must be digging almost painfully into your back but not once does that glee dim, written over every line of your smile, eyes bright and teeth sharp.
Yoongi likes to take things slow. There’s the part of him that never steps into a situation without knowing every angle, every escape route, each one of his kills planned meticulously. But, he thinks, the two of you have been waiting long enough, and he’s never been patient around you—has found his composure worn thin faster than anywhere else, by anyone else. It’s this part of him, frayed into non-existence by you, that rises to the surface now, makes him move as quick as he does.
And you respond just the way he knew you would. When he presses his mouth to yours you kiss him back like you have a point to make (you always do), fast and almost reckless, all lips and teeth and tongue. There’s no finesse to it. When he presses his tongue into your mouth you part your lips so prettily, let him take his fill, slide your tongue against his and tilt your head to get even deeper—and just like always, you're vocal, letting out small noises that are caught and muffled in the kiss, lust filled. But when you try to nip at his lip with the edge of your teeth Yoongi tightens his grip in your hair and swallows down your gasp before he pulls away, holding you in place so you can’t chase after his mouth. Your lips are kiss swollen and under the bright lights above they shine, slightly parted, pupils blown as you stare at him. 
(You look good like this.)
Your eyes slide shut when Yoongi lowers his lips to your neck, across your throat. There’s nothing gentle about it. He moves with single-minded intent, lips and teeth harsh against your sensitive skin—and you take it all, little sounds falling from your lips as Yoongi drags his teeth towards the hollow of your neck. And when he takes his hand from your hair, takes both hands and digs his fingers into your waist and lifts you, you go so easily; a mimicry of your earlier position when he’d stepped in, perched on the edge of the table. Legs spread so Yoongi can stand between them. He’d be surprised at how pliant you are if it wasn’t so obvious that this is exactly what you want: lifting your hips so he can strip your lower half bare. 
Your bare thighs press against the surface of the workbench, tech displays coming alive under your body heat. You’ve shrugged your cropped jacket off and you’re just reaching for your top when Yoongi stops you; splays a hand in the centre of your chest and presses you back, slow but undeniable. You’re not the one setting the pace. He is. He’s the one in control, with you spread out in front of him, only a thin layer of fabric keeping you from being completely bare—thin cotton underwear, dark and damp between your legs, betraying your arousal.
“Wet,” Yoongi murmurs.
Your retort stutters on your lips when he drags his fingers upwards over your slit, barely dulled by the material in the way. “No shit,” you say, and then suck in a breath when he presses the pad of his thumb across your clit.
It’s no good, the fact you’re still talking. But that’s okay. Yoongi’s planning on changing that.
It’s lewd, the way your legs are spread, parting further at the urging of his hands. Your hands slide across the bench, papers scattering, palms flat on the work surface and white light shimmering on dark blue in reaction to your touch; an unnecessary distraction that you both ignore. There’s nothing graceful about this, the peel of underwear away from your core, already slick even with the barest of attentions; he drags his fingers down the inside of your thighs, all that soft skin, and then under, urging your hips up and towards his mouth. No foreplay to this foreplay, no dragging out this moment—he bites at that soft skin of your inner thigh, sinks his teeth into it and listens to the way you gasp in surprise—and before you have a moment to ground yourself, he presses his mouth to your cunt.
You’re wet and warm under his tongue and the smell of you surrounds him, musky and heavy, and he feels how your entire body goes tense as you arch your back. He’d normally take his time with this, have you strung out and begging, but he has different plans today—knows exactly what he wants from this, sucking your clit between his lips and feeling your thighs tighten around his head, legs slung over his shoulders as he listens to the way you moan. Each sound shudders out from your mouth like you tried so desperately to keep it in but couldn’t help it. Yoongi loves eating pussy anyway but this is even better, the way all your witty ripostes die in your throat before you can shape them on your lips, turned into breathy gasps instead. 
The taste of you fills his mouth and it’s so fucking good. You’ve been watching him, how his head moves between your legs, but he can tell you’re close; you’ve given up, eyes shut as you lean into the sensation building up in you, and Yoongi thinks he likes you better like this. Forced into speechlessness under his hands and tongue. Your pretty mouth softened from sharpness into urging noises of pleasure. He slides one arm across your stomach and holds you in place, a hard line that you can’t overpower and you’re left squirming in place, hips trying to kick up each time he draws his tongue over your slit, every part of you sloppy with your own arousal and Yoongi’s spit, flushed and lovely. One of your hands is in his hair and you’re pulling, pulling hard, unaware of how tight your grip is as you try to buck your hips and sob. 
You’re so sensitive, and it only takes one, two fingers pressing into you and curling just right as Yoongi slides his tongue over your clit before you’re cumming, hot around his fingers as you come apart all wet and messy. He’s never seen you so undone, back arched as you ride out your orgasm, hair swept away from your forehead as you throw your head back. Keeps his mouth open on you, feels you under his tongue, until you’re flopped on your back and your chest is heaving, legs untensed and loose over his shoulders.
You shift an arm. Your fingers barely brush the medi-gel mod you’d made him, a loose sheet of paper sliding away and joining the others on the floor.
“Just moved in and it’s already a mess,” Yoongi says, and he doesn’t just mean the paper; fingers and chin and mouth covered in your slick, your core soaked. He’s still knuckle deep and when he curls his fingers again your entire body jolts, your mouth parting almost wantonly before you seem to struggle back to reality, surfacing from a haze of arousal and post orgasmic bliss.
“That’s your fault,” you say, voice weaker than usual. “I’ll send you the cleaning bill.”
“Mm. Not my fault you’re a messy girl.”
“Fuck you.” The blunt words are softened by your breathlessness, your bonelessness; the way your breath catches in your throat when he calls you a messy girl, even if you try to hide it. Trying not to let him in on exactly how much power he holds in this moment. 
“I was planning on it,” Yoongi says, as calm as ever, even if arousal is simmering through his veins and gathering in his gut—has been this entire time, the taste of you on his tongue and the heat of you under his lips and the sound of you in his ears. “Want to make your workshop even messier?”
You dig your balls of your feet into his back, legs still over his shoulders. His fingers shift inside you and you shiver. “I don’t think so,” you say. “Bedroom.”
“So you’re giving me a tour, then?”
You don’t dignify him with a response, although the noise you make when he finally pulls his fingers out of you is more than enough to satisfy him. He’s still fully dressed and you’re only half so, and it would be comical if the sight of your bare legs and slick on your inner thighs wasn’t so hot, barefoot on the glowing and pristine (papers notwithstanding) floors as you reach for his hand and lift it to your lips, sucking his fingers into your mouth and licking your arousal off his fingers with your tongue, warm and wet, before you grab his wrist and pull. 
He watches the movement of your hips as you lead him, your bare ass. Shameless as ever. Confident in yourself, even now. It’s not until you’ve stepped over the threshold and into your new bedroom that your tattoos become visible, as bright as the low lights in the room, those geometric lines and stylised circuitry on your legs shifting as you step forwards.
Even with the relative darkness Yoongi immediately notices something. Cast over the back of a chair near the bed, there’s his jacket, blood stains at the edge of the sleeves gone. Cleaned. Yoongi shifts his hand so you don’t have your fingers wrapped around his wrist any more. Instead he’s the one shackling you, holding you in place as you look over your shoulder.
“Were you ever going to return that to me?” He tilts his head at the chair. 
You pause. Glance over. Look back at him, all amusement and provocation, recovered from your earlier breathlessness. “But Yoongi, I get so cold.”
There’s something about the idea of you in his clothes, clothes that you know he’s worn when he’s been getting his hands dirty—he ignores the curl to your lips and moves you towards the bed, ignoring the sound of your self satisfied laughter when he reaches for your shirt and pulls, with you lifting your arms to help him, grinning at him the whole time. Even when he’s thrown your bra aside and kicked his boots off and pushed you onto the mattress, trapped you underneath him, completely naked against his completely clothed body you’re still smiling, like the cat who got the cream.
You’re stunning. There’s no doubt about it. You always have been, annoyingly so, even when Yoongi’s wanted to wring your neck; not just because you’re pretty but because you’re intelligent and confident and in control, staring up at him without a lick of fear or concern, even now. Never with him, never. He can see your tattoos in all their glory, nothing hidden away from his gaze; he sees one he hasn’t been able to see before, a sunflower bursting across your ribcage, curved under the swell of your breast, glowing red and orange in the midst of all your other cyan and teal lines, glowing in the black light. He’s pressing you down, trapped under his body, and you’re just waiting. Waiting and still smiling, smirking, letting him take you in, preening under his attention.
He wants to eat you alive.
So he does just that. Shifts back down the mattress on his knees, keeping his hands on you, pulling his hands down the easing lines of your ribs and waist and hips, before a firm tug has you lifting up—your smug facade shakes when you’re left with only your shoulders and head against the bed, the rest of your body pulled towards Yoongi’s waiting mouth once more, held in place with fingers that dig into your hips, thighs soft against his ears, your hands scrabbling at the linen underneath you when Yoongi’s lips press into the crease of your thigh, off balance.
“Safeword?” He murmurs into your skin, and you pause.
“Hoseok,” you answer, and Yoongi responds by biting into your thigh again, soothing it with his tongue when you squeal.
“Shameless.”
You’re still wet from before, slick with cum, and Yoongi doesn’t hesitate before he dives back in. He can hear more than he can see the way your fingers curl into your sheets and rumple them in your hands, anchored helplessly into place by Yoongi’s mouth and the fingers cupped under your ass, digging into the soft skin, undignified and at his mercy. 
“Yoongi!” You gasp, almost a whimper as a breath gets caught in your throat. “Y-Yoongi—”
You’re so helpless like this. It’s a little hard for Yoongi to breathe, your legs tightening around him, but it’s worth it for the way he can see you shaking apart. He presses his tongue as deep into you as he can, sucks your swollen pearl between his lips and circles it with his tongue, notices the way you jolt at those wet kisses, still sensitive from before, and he doesn’t let up. Keeps going and going and going until you’re gasping for air, sensations rippling through your body as you buck and writhe; you’re trying to keep yourself together, he can tell, but you’re unravelling, smirk wiped off your face and your mouth in a pretty little circle whenever you choke out oh, oh.
You cum faster than he expects, shoulders lifting away from the mattress as you arch your back so far it must hurt and tighten your legs and he feels the way your pussy throbs under his tongue, practically gushing when you reach your peak. Your eyes are unfocused when they flutter back open but you’re reaching for him, for the waistband of his trousers, trying to touch the hard length of his cock—he’s been ignoring it, how he’s leaked so much precum he can feel how wet it is in his boxer-briefs.
He keeps ignoring it now. He catches your hands, stops you in place, stares you down with an unimpressed tilt to his brows.
“What,” he says levelly, “do you think you’re doing?”
“Want you in my mouth,” you say. You seem almost desperate for it, fingers flexing in his hold, letting your tongue linger against your lips longer than necessary. “I want your cock in my mouth, Yoongi.”
He tightens his grip around your wrists. And then, for the first time all night, he smiles.
“No.”
You look stunned. Just for a moment. Then you’re squirming in his hold, but you’re trapped, nowhere to go. “What do you mean, no?”
Yoongi’s still smiling, mirroring the self satisfaction that had been written all over your face earlier. “I mean no. You don’t get what you want. You get what you’re given.”
There’s nothing he’d like more than to sink into that wet heat, to see your smart mouth put to good use, lips spread over his cock, but this is better. Seeing the genuine frustration and disbelief written across your features. 
He doesn’t give you time to line up another angered retort on your tongue. Doesn’t give you time to breathe before he’s flipping you over, the wings of your shoulder blades and curve of your spine emphasised by the lines that are traced symmetrically and shining across your skin. They shift when you move, hips lifted from the mattress by Yoongi’s hands, on your hands and knees as he fumbles his waistband and zipper and pulls his cock free. He’s painfully hard, flushed head with precum that beads at the tip, and when he tugs you back he watches the way the head drags across the curve of your ass, leaving a shining line of wetness on your skin.
And when he sinks into you he barely gives you time to adjust, barely has time to adjust himself, to all this hot tight wetness after his cock’s gotten no attention at all—you let out a moan that almost sounds like you’re singing, long and high with pleasure, the slide eased from all your cum.
 You take it so well, always so good to him no matter how irritating you are, so lost in the sensations that you don’t say anything about the hard edges of Yoongi’s clothes whenever he drives his hips forward and it presses into the soft skin of your thighs. It’s messy and choppy and fast and you slump onto your elbows, entire body shaking as you take everything Yoongi is giving you. Caged underneath him when he follows you forwards, presses his front to your back, feels the way the sweat on your skin is caught against the fabric of his clothes. Grinds his hips deep and feels the way you gasp, sucking in a shaking breath, your entire body lost in it. He bites his lip and keeps his own sounds caught behind his teeth, not letting you know how you’re pulling him towards his own edge.
He’s not done with you yet.
Your clit is slick under his touch when he lifts his fingers to touch you, to layer another sensation on top of the cock inside you, and you’re sobbing. You don’t ask him to stop, never know when to quit, face every challenge thrown at you—and Yoongi can tell that you love it even if your body is crying out, that you love this oversensitivity, pulled taut and strung out. You’re beyond speech, words slurred, barely recognisable as his name and pleas of more, please, more. He can feel when you’ve crested the wave of too much sensation and fallen back into that rippling sea of pleasure, and when you cum it’s with a soundless moan, mouth wide open but no noise escaping. No more sharp retorts, no smart words, fucked into incoherency, trembling and quivering as you go tight around him and Yoongi struggles not to lose himself then and there, in your scorching, wet cunt, fluttering around him.
The noise when he pulls out is slick and lewd, just like all the other noises that have been filling the room, the slap of skin on skin temporarily halted when Yoongi rolls you onto your back. There’s sweat beading on your skin, shimmering, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes and glistening like tiny jewels in the multi-coloured low light of this room. Your lips are parted and your gaze is bleary and you’re everything Yoongi has never seen from you before, fuzzy and quiet, entirely pliant. When he reaches for you again, runs his hands over the rise of your hipbones and down the side of your thighs, you whimper.
“One more,” Yoongi says. “One more, you can give me one more.”
You’ve never known when to quit, and now is no different, even if you’re on the verge of being entirely fucked dumb. Those tears pool in your eyes and stream down towards your hairline, but you let Yoongi move you, try to help by lifting your hips but almost too gone to move at all. Yoongi almost cums when he sinks into you, your willing body; he thinks you’ve never looked better than you do now, smelling like sweat and sex and so soft under his hands, taking his cock like you were made for it, and you’re so gorgeous when you’re falling apart. 
The attitude you wear normally—the one that chafes at Yoongi’s nerve-endings—has been entirely wiped away, forced out of you by mindless pleasure. But still, you know what you want, even now, even when you’re barely coherent—Yoongi feels your hand slide across his and pull weakly, guiding it across your chest and up, circling his fingers around your neck.
He swears. Snaps his hips forward hard, watches the way your eyes roll back when he gives an experimental squeeze around your throat. Yoongi’s choked people before, knows exactly how much pressure to give, how much it takes to cut someone’s airways completely or how to just leave them reeling; he lets you linger on the edge of breathlessness, feels the way you go tight around him. When you orgasm it rips through you, your thighs tightening around Yoongi’s hips as you hit your peak and cum hard, and the feeling of it has Yoongi cursing and bending forwards to shove his face in your neck and kiss the salt-sweat taste he finds there as he falls off the edge. He cums wet inside you, keeps rolling his hips through it all, lets his cum mix with yours and watches the way you just keep taking it, even when your whole body is trembling from how much it is.
And when Yoongi calls you a good girl, you don’t snap back like you normally would, don’t deride his praise. You bask in it, as tired as you are, letting out a soft noise when he pulls his softening cock out of you, unbothered by the wet patches on your sheets and how the whole room stinks of sex. When he moves to lift you, to get you clean, you go easily and without argument, every one of your honed edges dulled, and you make no move to sharpen them again, to drag them over Yoongi in the way he’s so familiar with by now. Even when you’ve lifted out of your haze and you’re back in the moment, the way you watch Yoongi is no less calm than normal, but still different.
“Stay.”
He’s in the middle of reaching for his boots, discarded on the floor, a discordant note on the clear floor. You’re wearing clean underwear and a loose t-shirt and you’re looking at him with something verging on surprise, like you hadn’t expected to see him moving to pull his shoes back on to leave.
He hadn’t been planning to.
“Just moving them out of the way,” says Yoongi, putting them upright by the base of your chair, and then he makes his way back to you. You don’t attempt to hide your pleasure that he’s listened to you,  pulling him onto the bed despite the fact he’s still dressed.
“I don’t cuddle,” he says, even as you tuck yourself into the crook of his arm, and he shifts to make it more comfortable for you.
You press your face into the hollow of his neck, touch your nose against his throat, breathing in the smell of sweat that still lingers—because you’re shower soft and fresh but he isn’t, and weirdly enough, you seem to enjoy it. Seem to enjoy that contrast, the one that’s always existed between you, Yoongi immersed in blood and sweat and tears while you’re away from it, one degree of separation from it all. “You know, I like it when you do things for me.”
Normally he’d protest, say that he doesn’t do things for you, but the truth is that he does, even if he’s only just admitting it to himself. 
“Like that time you killed someone for me,” you say, and Yoongi’s fingers tighten, soft skin of your waist yielding under his touch.
“I kill a lot of people.”
You let out a laugh against his skin, quietly amused. “Just admit it. You like me, Min Yoongi.”
A pause. 
Then: “Against my better judgement, I do.”
And he does. Even if you’re irritating and maddening, he does like you, and not just because of the work you do for him. He thinks that even if you weren’t so good at your job that he’d find himself here anyway, caught in this push and pull you have, magnetised.
“No need to sound so begrudging,” you say, but there’s no real annoyance behind your words. 
Yoongi finds that he likes that note in your voice, like you’re indulging him and his stubbornness and you’re unmoved by it. He hums in response. Feels the way you shift back, lean on your elbows to look down at him, lips curled up at the corners.
“Kiss me.”
Not a question. A demand. Yoongi stares you down, just for a second, before he lifts a hand and weaves a hand back into your hair, tilting your mouth against his. He can feel your self satisfied smile against his lips and he doesn’t mind it at all, sees it spread across your face when you eventually pull back, all flushed lips and warm eyes.
You’re still sharp, a weapon in your own right, but you willingly hand yourself over to be held in his skilled hands, let yourself be worn smooth by his touch. He weaves his fingers between your own, your palm soft and warm against his, and he likes this. That you’re unafraid of what he is, that the fact he’s a killer isn’t something that scares you or thrills you.
Yoongi likes your work. He likes that he knows he can trust you. He likes that he knows of your loyalty, to the people you choose and to yourself, your unwavering principles, as unpredictable as they might seem. He likes that you’re unashamed to be yourself and to be confident, no matter how people react to that cockiness. 
What he likes even better than all that is this, though: the way you’re pressed against his side, evidence of his touch written into your skin. The feeling of your hand in his. Despite all the odds, all the months of drawn out and simmering exasperation and tension coming to a head like this, Yoongi likes you.
“I’m not going to give you a discount, you know,” you say suddenly, and for the first time since you met, Yoongi allows himself to laugh at you.
“I’d be offended if you did.”
(You’re loud. Cocky. Arrogant. You love to irritate him just for the hell of it, because you think it’s funny and you love knowing that you can rile him up—but he can rile you up too, and you both know it.
Yeah. Yoongi likes you.)
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tagging: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove @gyukult  @swinginpicklesuitcaseapricot @kpopheart2 @loveyoongles @muzikabijou  @katbonv @jaxx-7 @yeojaa
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joonscypher · 5 months ago
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Stuck | MYG (1)
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› Summary: When Min Yoongi’s parents arrange for him to marry their top business competitor’s daughter, he’s less than thrilled, but being the filial son he is, he does what his parents ask to keep the business successful. You’re much less receptive to the news, and it takes your parents threatening your fortune to get you to go along with it. As expected, things between you and Yoongi go from bad to worse. It only takes half a year before it all comes to a head, leaving you both exhausted, heartbroken, and unsure of how to pick up the pieces.
› Pairing: Yoongi x Female!Reader
› Genre: Angst, arranged marriage au, chaebol au
› Rating: NC-17
› Words: 11.2k
› Warnings: Profanity, alcohol consumption, implied sex, lots of arguing amongst married couples, toxic parents( (especially Y/n’s mom), Yoongi is mean and pretty slut shamey, Y/n slaps Yoongi once
› A/N: This is part 1 of 2 of my part in the Sons of Midas collab. It took much longer than I would’ve liked to finish, but it’s finally here!!!! Part 2 is being outlined as we speak and will be out... soon 😳 Part 2 may have smut so just in case I’m rating this NC-17 and nsfw.
Thank you soooo much to @bangtanhome​ and @oftenderweapons​ for being my wonderful betas. Ily both and you helped me so much to get this right, more than you know! 💛💛
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Min Yoongi is a lot of things. He’s practically a genius - his friend Namjoon’s IQ aside. Namjoon is book smart, but Yoongi is just as intelligent and doesn’t do half the dumb things he does. He’s talented, being able to play multiple instruments flawlessly, just because he loves music. He’s handsome, which isn’t just him boosting his ego. Anyone with working eyes can see that he belongs on the cover of GQ (which could very well be in his future if the business card he received from a publisher of the magazine is any indication).
The list of his positive attributes goes on, but he wouldn’t call himself committed. Determined, sure. Ambitious, absolutely. But committed in the relationship sense? No.
Being the son of one of the top electronic companies in South Korea makes dating hard for many reasons. Yoongi is usually working most of the time, and when he’s not, he prefers to be home, taking time to himself. That’s not to say he doesn’t go on casual dates, but those are usually just that: casual. The girls he meets are usually wealthy and lack the substance of a woman he requires, or if they’re not wealthy, they make it clear that they only want him for his status and fortune.
He does not commit, which is why when the words “arranged to be married” slip from his father’s lips, he can only stare back, slack-jawed.
“I’m sorry?” Yoongi asks, wanting to make sure he heard correctly.
“This industry is all about strategy. If we want to stay on top of things, we need to make moves, and if that means-”
“I have to marry a total stranger,” Yoongi interrupts with an attitude in his voice. One look from his father though, has him clearing his throat and apologizing for his outburst.
“As I was saying, if that means us having to adjust things in our personal lives to stay ahead of the industry, then so be it.” His father finishes. Yoongi should’ve known his parents’ sudden call for an impromptu lunch would be for something more than simply “catching up.”
“Besides,” his mother chimes in, “she’s not a stranger. It’s the daughter of SK International; Y/n. You’ve met and spoken with her numerous times.”
This is true. Yoongi knows very well who you are. Y/l/n Y/n. Better known in their circle simply as Peach. You’re an example of the women that Yoongi tends to stay away from. Wealthy, superficial, and extremely extroverted. He always hears through the rumor mill about you at the latest events and parties with a different date on your arm each time.
There’d been a time where he wanted to ask you out but decided you’re much too high-maintenance for him. That, and the fact that you had a brief stint with Namjoon. It wasn’t serious, but Yoongi wasn’t partial to his friends’ seconds, so he quickly abandoned the idea of getting involved with you. (This doesn’t stop him from looking at pictures of you that pop up on social media or online. You may be problematic, but you’re also attractive)
“I see,” is all Yoongi says, picking at the steak in front of him.
“I knew you’d understand. We want to do this quickly so I can finish getting the contracts written up. Sometime within the next month at least. Your mother has already been working with Y/n’s family and a wedding planner who’s taking care of everything.” Yoongi’s father speaks with such casualty as if he isn’t discussing signing his son away.
Yoongi stays quiet and nods the whole time, humoring his mother’s excited expression with artificial smiles of his own.
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“Are you fucking serious?!” You screech for what seems like the eighth time.
“Y/n, I will only tell you once more to watch your tone with me.” Your mom warns, her tone as authoritative as usual, even over video chat.
“I’m sorry, but how can I watch my tone?! You just told me you’re signing my life away to someone I don’t even know!”
“I am not signing you away, don’t be so dramatic. And you know Min Yoongi, remember?”
Of course, you remember him. Min Yoongi is one of the finest men you’ve ever seen, and you’ve seen plenty. Last year you wanted so badly to ask him out during a gala that you don’t even remember the purpose of. You’d had your eye on him for months, but you admittedly chickened out at the last minute. As good-looking as Yoongi is, he’s also just as intimidating. Those sharp, intense eyes had you tucking your tail and fleeing to hook up with the son of a smaller tech start-up instead. (You unapologetically thought of Yoongi the whole time)
Knowing who Yoongi is doesn’t overcome the thought of being married. You! Married?! Marriage is the furthest thing from your mind, let alone having a marriage arranged for you. You’ve had plenty of relationships, but none of them stuck around enough to entertain the thought of marriage and that’s completely okay with you. You don’t want to be married. You want to live in your cute apartment with all of your belongings and enjoy a good fuck in any room you want by someone new each time. This is the worst news you’ve received in a long time.
“I don’t care who it is. I don’t want to be anyone’s wife. What if I refuse?”
“Oh, that’s not an option,” your mom chuckles. “If you want to keep leeching off of me, you’ll marry Yoongi next month and you’ll like it.”
“Great, I can’t wait to marry a man that doesn’t actually care about me and would rather send me on extravagant vacations so he doesn’t have to deal with me.” You bite back, not caring how much of a low blow that was. You’re only growing increasingly agitated as this conversation goes on.
Your mom shoots you a look through the screen that has you shrinking back, but only a little.
“As I said Y/n, you don’t have a choice. You will be getting married next month. My assistant will be in touch with you with the details of your dress fitting and any other appointments the planner comes up with.”
“But-”
“Goodbye.” And with that, the video call ends, leaving you staring at your own angry expression on the black screen.
You let out a frustrated scream and plop back onto your bed. You force away the tears that prick at the backs of your eyes and try to think of any possible ways you can get out of this marriage.
After closing your eyes and coming up with nothing, you fall asleep, only to wake up later. The realization that you’re getting married in a month still weighs heavy on you as you mentally give up. Your mom always wins and this will be no different.
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You had a Western wedding, per your mother’s choice. She claims it’s much chicer and on-trend.
Normal weddings look like so much work in the movies. Lots of running around and picking out flowers and plates and dresses. There’s always rehearsal dinners and bachelorette parties and then some kind of drama with the cake or the guests.
You don’t have to deal with any of that. Your mom’s assistant and hired wedding planner tackle everything. The only real appointment you have is the dress fitting, which you at least get to pick, then your hair and makeup the day of. You have no input on the flowers or the venue, which is a stale church your mom took you to all of once when you were little.
In the time leading up to the big day, you do your best to act as though nothing major is happening to anyone that isn’t in your close group of friends. Swan, Honey, and Candy, the closest of everyone you know, are nice enough to let you cry about it over video calls and in the group chat. Otherwise, you keep it to yourself and live your life as normal. The more you dwell on it, the more it gnaws at your mind.
After watching your parents in their loveless marriage for more than 35 years, the thought of ending up in a similar situation haunts you more than you’ll ever admit. Your parents are distant from each other and as a result, they’ve kept you at arm’s length all your life.
You try to text Yoongi a few times to get to know him more before this life change, but he is as cold over a text message as he often was anytime you’ve seen him. All you can do is hope you don’t end up in the same downward spiral that your parents are going through.
It isn’t until the day of the wedding that you finally see Min Yoongi in person after at least a year. He’s still as handsome as ever. Soft-looking dark hair that’s swept out his face, showcasing his beauty. Dark, sharp eyes that calculate you as you walk down the aisle towards him, and a black suit that he got tailored to perfectly fit his smaller, yet fit frame.
He gives you an artificial smile when you finally reach the altar that you expertly return, just as stale. The pastor immediately launches into the vows as you zone out, eyes scanning the room. You don’t recognize anyone in the pews except yours and Yoongi’s parents. Your mom’s assistant told you it would only be business people and the media. The press was told that you and Yoongi wanted to keep things small, which is why it was so quick with a “select” guest list.
For the rest of the ceremony, you operate on auto-pilot and the day carries on in a blur. You feel like you’re in a daze, only really coming to at the end of the day when you’re locked in the bathroom.
You married Min Yoongi. You’re now married. Legally, you are someone’s wife. The realization hits you like a ton of bricks as you feel panic start to grip your throat and tears well in your eyes. Try as you might, you can’t stop the sobs that slip out, only hoping no one hears you.
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The next three months of being Min Yoongi’s wife are filled with frustration, to say the very least. To the outside world, you’re the perfect couple, but that can’t be further from the truth.
Both you and Yoongi’s parents make you move into a new penthouse apartment together. Since you’re now a married couple, you need to be seen as such, according to them, therefore you can’t live separately.
You put up as much of a fight that you can with your mom, which you of course lose, so you end up away from your luxury yet cozy, one-bedroom apartment that you decorated yourself, to a cold, almost clinical two-bedroom apartment that resembles an unlived showroom floor display.
Yoongi continually makes it obvious that he’s not happy. He barely speaks to you, and when he does it’s always an argument over something insignificant. The first week of living together, he bites your head off over not wiping up a splash of your coffee on the counter. The week after that, you get into an argument because you don’t pick up the mail that has his name on it from the mailroom, choosing only to grab yours. Which, in your defense, you simply forget about. You’ve been so used to getting mail for one that it slips your mind. You make sure he knows just how dumb he is before you storm out to meet a few friends at the bar.
Each day that ticks by is essentially nothing but a copy and paste of this. You either argue over trivial things around the apartment, avoid each other at all costs by going out with your friends to try and live a tiny resemblance of what your life was like before you became Mrs. Min, or stay holed up in your room.
Your room is the only place in the apartment where you get to be alone and in your own space. It’s also the only area of the apartment that you get to put any of your own tastes into. Your mom may have forced her choice of paint and furniture into it, but you at least can hang up artwork that you enjoy and cover the new bed in your own choice of linen.
The room is clearly the intended master bedroom with the king-sized bed, massive closet, and attached bathroom, but on day one of being married, Yoongi immediately retreated to what is most likely the guest room and stays only in there, so he makes his solo lodging decision early on.
This is fine with you. If you have to be trapped in a marriage with a man that doesn’t love you, at least you don’t have to sleep in the same bed as him.
You go through the days with no desire to see what’s in Yoongi’s room until one night. You were celebrating Honey, one of your closest friends, finally being back in Korea, so you’re rightfully a little more than tipsy when you get home. As soon as you’re through the front door, you hear the sounds of a piano playing through the apartment.
After spending a few minutes in the foyer simply standing and taking in the sound, you snap out of it and ungracefully tiptoe through the apartment to the source, heels in hand. Yoongi’s bedroom door is open wide enough for you to peek around the corner to see him seated in front of a keyboard in the corner of his room.
It’s the only real personal object in his otherwise empty bedroom that only has basic furniture in it. You spy stacks of books on his dresser and some notebooks, but not much else makes the room seem very lived in.
Yoongi is lost in the music with his eyes closed and a small, focused pout on his pink lips. His long fingers fly across the keys and his head bobs as he goes. This is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen Yoongi in any of the times you’ve seen the man. You don’t miss the way your heart jumps, just a tiny bit at how soft and calm the usually rude man looks. It’s clear he loves music as he loses himself in the melodies he’s playing.
Closing your eyes, you stand there and enjoy the music for a little while longer. If you associate the sweet sounds with the quiet, introverted version of Yoongi you knew of before you were married, it’s not hard to feel the crush that you originally pushed deep down creep back up.
Seeing him like this gives you an idea of how to possibly get through to the man you’re married to in hopes of building even a semblance of a positive relationship with him.
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Yoongi equates his time being a married man to feeling trapped. Having to up and leave the apartment he has known and loved for the past few years only to move into one that he had no say in how it looks or where it’s located (of course it’s the halfway point between family companies) makes him miserable.
From the moment he walks in, everything just feels so fake, and wrong. The furniture looks different, feels, and even smells different.
It only takes a quick survey of the bedrooms to see which one is intended to be the shared master. He decides against this by deciding to live in the “guest room” and claiming it as his own.
Is he being moderately childish? Yes. Does he care? No.
Being entangled with you likely has its own set of drama that comes along with it, and having lived the calmest life as is possible for the son of a CEO, he’s not happy about that being disrupted. Maybe one day you’ll get a little more mature and you and Yoongi can even become friends.
Besides, you immediately get back to your own life soon after the wedding and are gone at all hours of the day with your friends, and likely other romantic partners, so what does it matter that Yoongi keeps to himself in his bedroom? If you want to live your way, he’ll do the same.
When he isn’t roped into pointless arguments with you due to the smallest inconveniences, he spends the next three months keeping to himself, working or playing music. He’s found that if he can stay away from you, there won’t be a need to get into a screaming match over him forgetting to lock the front door or not asking if you wanted anything from the store (which is ridiculous since you have a housekeeper that does the grocery shopping anyway).
Three months is a long time for someone to avoid speaking to the person they live with, let alone are married to, but Yoongi does a pretty good job, until one day when he comes home after a long day at the office.
He drops his bag and shoes by the door and shuffles into the kitchen to fix himself a drink.
With a tumbler of whiskey in hand, he collects his things and makes his way to his bedroom. The apartment is surprisingly quiet, but he knows you’re home because he can see the light emanating from your bedroom down the hall.
He’s ready to flop onto his bed and enjoy his drink when he sees a neatly wrapped box sitting in front of his bedroom door. Yoongi opens the door and slides the box in gently before setting down his drink and his bag and picking the box up.
Typically, when he gets mail he’s notified that he needs to pick it up in the mailroom or the housekeeper will tell him, so he’s curious about the box. After untying the white ribbon he shimmies the top off and digs through the tissue paper. Underneath the paper is what appears to be a miniature grand piano made of black wood. Yoongi picks it up, noticing the weight of it, and is further confused until he finds the silver knob on the back.
He turns the knob, which makes the tiny piano begin to play a classical tune that he’s unfamiliar with, but sounds beautiful playing through the room. A smile creeps onto Yoongi’s face as he further admires the music box, noting that his initials are carved onto the bottom. He moves to dig through the box and finds a folded note with a peach emblem on the front.
It’s not weird if spouses get each other wedding gifts right? I saw this and thought of the beautiful music you make. I hope you like your piano partner :) - Peach
There’s a smile on Yoongi’s face as he reads your note. He had been sure he only played piano when you were out, and the idea of you hearing him has a blush creeping up his neck, but your gift also flatters him. He was so sure you hated his guts, yet you got him a present, just because.
Taking a deep breath, Yoongi gently places the music box on his dresser and heads for your room, intending to properly thank you. When he pokes his head into your room, you don’t notice him, as your head is quite literally buried in a thick book in your hands.
Yoongi is taken aback by your appearance. He’s used to seeing you in tight dresses and small skirts, face full of makeup and accessories lining your arms and neck. The Peach he sees is different.
You’re cross-legged on your bed in black sweatpants and a light pink, oversized hoodie. Round glasses are perched on the brim of your nose and large headphones sit on your ears. He watches as a range of emotions flutters across your face, ranging from shock to anger, to happiness. His eyes flicker towards the floor next to your bed, seeing three hefty stacks of books, almost falling over from being haphazardly stacked.
You look like a completely different person and though it’s only a fleeting thought, he briefly notes how beautiful you look. You look like Y/n, not Peach, the party girl that everyone knows. The thought of seeing you privately from the outside world makes Yoongi’s heart jump.
He decides to leave you to your book and quietly heads back to his bedroom, deciding to thank you later. He also decides he needs to return the favor for you and starts to think up a gift to get you that he hopes you’ll like as much as he likes his gift.
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Yoongi’s been so busy with work all week, that you haven’t had much time to see him, so you’re dying to know what he thinks of his gift. He surely has it, as the next morning after leaving it in front of his door, you saw that the box was gone. It wasn’t in the trash or any other room, so he must have kept it.
Your question is answered when you get home the next night after a self-care day and turn the light on in your room. You jump at first when you see the new armchair in the corner of the room, cautiously going over to inspect it.
It’s wide and looks to be made of thick, dark-washed wood. The seat is nook-like and the cushions are rose gold-colored and plush, made of some of the most comfortable fabric you’ve ever touched. The seat, backrest, and both sides are padded with this pillowy material. The real appeal of the chair is the fact that the structure of it is a bookshelf, all the way around it. You spot your book collection placed into the chair on every shelf, so when sitting, you simply need to reach over and grab a book to read.
You see a folded paper on one of the armrests and eagerly reach for it to read.
Slouching over your books on your bed is bad posture. Enjoy your reading in comfort and take care of yourself. - Yoongi
The way your heart flutters upon reading the note is ridiculous, but it feels good to know that Yoongi seems to like your gift enough to give you one in return. You can’t help but flop into the chair, sinking in and letting the cushions form to your body. You reach an arm over one of the armrests and pluck a book from the shelf, loving the convenience and the comfort of the chair.
You make a mental note to thank Yoongi as soon as he gets home and maybe start the work towards building something with him.
As luck would have it, you end up curling into yourself and falling asleep in your new chair. Yoongi catches sight of you like this later that night when he comes home, smiling so widely that he’s glad you didn’t see. He tiptoes into your room and places the throw hanging on your computer chair over you, making sure not to disturb you. He’s relieved you like the gift and he tells himself he’ll take the time to thank you properly tomorrow.
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The next morning marks the beginning of the first string of pleasant interactions between you and Yoongi. Yoongi calls over a personal chef he’s used before to make breakfast for you, so when you finally stumble into the kitchen, you’re left standing in the entryway to gape at the spread on the dining room table. Yoongi’s sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone but puts it down as soon as he sees you.
“Hey, good morning.” He offers you what you’re pretty sure is his first smile in your direction.
“Good morning,” you smile back.
“I asked my chef to make us a nice breakfast. I wanted to do something nice and uh, thank you for the music box. It’s lovely.”
You have to keep yourself from gaping at the fact that Min Yoongi is not only being nice, but he also thanked you and has done another nice thing for you.
“Thank you too, for the chair. I love it a lot.”
Yoongi flushes at your words, looking away bashfully. It’s awkward between the two of you until Yoongi gestures to the table. You both sit, still silent as you begin placing rice and fish onto your plate.
Only the soft sounds of chewing are heard for a while longer until you decide to break the silence, asking Yoongi how he got into playing the piano. As if a switch flips in him, Yoongi’s eyes light up, and he dives into his background and how he fell in love with the piano after his parents forced him to go to a symphony when he was young. He hated it at first, but when the orchestra began playing, especially the pianist, Yoongi was transfixed and immediately begged for lessons.
“Simpler times in my life too, I suppose,” he shrugs, stuffing a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “What about you? I never really thought I’d see the great Peach with her nose buried in a book.”
“The majority of people I know don’t even think I can say the alphabet, let alone read entire novels.” You laugh, rolling your eyes. “My nanny when I was young used to read to me every night for as long as I can remember. The way she read was always full of emotion and very involved for a bedtime story for a toddler, but it made me love it. She also taught me how to read and eventually I was reading all the time, well at least whenever my mom wasn’t forcing me to go to events and all that. It’s my only real hobby outside of like… going out.”
Yoongi nods, offering a look of understanding. “Yeah, my father let me take piano lessons, but it was always an unimportant hobby to him. If it isn’t about the business, it doesn’t matter.”
“Ugh, don’t get me started! I feel like my mom has said some shit like that to me before. She’s never admitted it outright, but I know she just wants to parade me around for the paparazzi so people will know and remember the business; it’s been like that since I was a teenager.” Yoongi gives you a frown in response, but you wave it off. “It’s fine, I’m used to it. I’m just waiting until I can take over the company and do what I want with it.”
“We definitely have that in common.” Yoongi smiles at you, making your stomach flip yet again. It’s a little embarrassing how easily he can make you feel giddy, but you do your best not to let it show. This is the first time a conversation between you and Yoongi didn’t turn into a screaming match, so you remain as casual as possible.
That breakfast is the open door that you both need to begin to feel more comfortable with one another. That morning is spent with the two of you going back and forth about how exhausting being an heir is and snippets of how equally exhausting both of your parents are. You and Yoongi may be different in many ways, but you both share the same burden of over-controlling, never-around parents.
After that morning, Yoongi finds himself seeking you out more for conversation and vice versa. You eat more meals together, and eventually, a month has gone by and he’s texting you on nights that he’s coming home late from the office, asking what you want him to pick up for dinner.
You wish each other good morning and good night every day and offer one another genuine smiles. At some point, you catch yourself thinking about Yoongi when you’re not together and vice versa. He’s even initiated movie nights at home with you and the more public events you go to, the more his hands on your arm or lower back don’t feel so forced.
Yoongi, being the usually stoic man that he is, even feels comfortable enough to show extreme emotion with you. When Jimin, one of his best friends, tells him that Jungkook’s mother, another one of his best friends, was in a car accident and is in the hospital, he panics. He receives the news one day when you’re watching tv together, and you know something is wrong as soon as he answers the phone.
After he hangs up, he tells you what’s going on and that he needs to get to the hospital. Yoongi’s frazzled and rushes around the apartment as if he doesn’t know where anything is. You finally get up from the couch and grab him by the shoulders as he’s about to pace the hallway for the third time.
“Hey, I need you to calm down, okay? Just grab your bag and your keys.”
“I - yeah okay.” Yoongi turns to go into his room but stops to look back at you. “Can you, um, come to the hospital with me?”
You’re caught off guard, but agree nonetheless and head to your room to get dressed. The ride is silent, and Yoongi’s on edge the entire time, even as you stop to grab flowers. He finally relaxes when you get to the hospital with him and he sees his friends and Jungkook’s mom. You give your hellos to everyone, only knowing them a little, except for Namjoon who you know much too well. You smile at him and he returns it, very half-heartedly which isn’t a surprise given how much of a near recluse he’s become, but you don’t dwell on it. You’re here for Yoongi and Yoongi only.
That night, once you’re back home, and Yoongi’s much calmer, the two of you end up falling asleep on the couch together, not touching, but sharing the same blanket, which in itself is a feat.
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A month and a half of peace goes by with no fights and no animosity in the apartment, which both you and Yoongi are thankful for. You’ve found yourself feeling much more zen in your everyday life.
Your phone rings when you’re neck-deep in the newest young adult novel you’ve ordered, disrupting your evening. You sigh, placing your bookmark in the book and answer it, seeing it’s your mom and rightfully bracing yourself.
“Hi, mom.”
“Wow, don’t sound so thrilled to speak to your mother.”
You take a deep breath, refusing to take the obvious argument bait. “I was just reading, that's all.”
“Is that what your time has been dedicated to? Is that why you look the way you do recently?”
“What?” You gape
“I saw a photo of you online from the Louis Vuitton event you and Yoongi attended last weekend. He looks as handsome as always, but Y/n, what on Earth is going on with you?”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong with me?!”
“Oh come on, Y/n. It’s obvious how much weight you’ve put on. And who did your makeup? Your foundation looks awful.”
“Did you just call me to be rude to me?!” The anger that your mom usually causes you bubbles up, and you don’t notice how hard you’re gritting your teeth.
“It’s not rude, it’s criticism. And you should hear it from me before anyone on the internet.” She says casually.
“Are you sure? You sound like just as much of an asshole as people on the internet.”
“First of all, watch your mouth when you speak to me. Second of all, as I said, it’s criticism whether you like it or not. Besides, someone has to tell you so you can match Yoongi. We can’t have the future CEO of SK Min Electronics International walking around with an ugly wife now can we?”
There aren’t enough words to describe the flurry of emotions her words make you feel, but her mention of Yoongi as the CEO stops you. “What do you mean ‘future CEO’? I’m taking over SK International.”
Your mom chuckles in response and you hear the yipping of her dogs in the background. “Oh, Y/n, what? Did we not tell you? Your father and I decided we’d just merge the companies completely and have Yoongi lead the one, mega-company.”
“You can’t just make me not the heir anymore!” You jump up from the couch and begin pacing in irritation.
“We can and we did. Besides, you haven’t really shown that you can handle being CEO. I mean, before the marriage, you know very well that all of the articles published about you showed you out at another club or bar. And Y/n, the rumors about you and all the partners you’ve had are too much for you to be the CEO of the family business. Maybe you can start a makeup or clothing line instead.”
You’re silent as she prattles on with you barely listening. This phone call morphed from casual verbal abuse to news of your future completely changing from what you knew it would be for the past twenty or so years.
At some point, your mom decides she’s tired of speaking at you and says goodbye, barely waiting for you to respond. You sink back onto the couch, mind still reeling. It’s not the first time she’s nitpicked the way you look or behaved, but it’s the first time in a long time that it’s been so cruel and you let it get to you. Not to mention the fact that you will no longer inherit your family’s company.
Her sharp words keep replaying in your head and you eventually end up in a heap on the couch, sobbing. Yoongi finds you there after work and you’re surprised when he comes over to rub reassuring circles on your back and shoulders.
“Y/n? What’s wrong?” He asks. Through teary eyes, you meet his gaze, seeing true concern. You’ve come a long way in the short time you’ve been married to Yoongi, and to have him here comforting you has to mean something right?
“My mom… she’s just… she just said some terrible things to me, as usual.” You sniffle, forcing a smile on your face. Yoongi’s grip on your shoulder tightens, almost protectively.
“Well, you don’t have to tell me what she said if you don’t want to, but I’m sorry.”
You blink at him, trying to make sure you heard him right. Yoongi apologized to you. He’s never said sorry to you. Sure, it wasn’t an apology for something he did, but it has to be a start.
Sitting so close to him for a few seconds longer gives you ample time to admire how soft his lips look.
Unsure if it’s the onslaught of emotions rushing through you, you lean up before you can talk yourself out of it and press your lips to Yoongi’s. You can confirm that his lips are as soft as they look.
Unfortunately, the moment is cut short when Yoongi pulls away harshly, pushing you back in the process.
“Y/n, what the fuck?” It’s at this moment that you realize the work you’ve put in to bridge the gap between the two of you is for not as Yoongi shoots you an intensely deep frown, similar to ones he’s given you before you had reached a truce.
“Sorry! Sorry I couldn’t help it but… Yoongi, we’ve gotten a lot closer lately, and we’re married. What do you say we go out maybe? Give this a real chance?” A voice in the back of your head is telling you this is a bad idea, but you’re not listening, too overcome with emotions.
“No.”
“Yoongi, come on, we-”
“I said no!” He snaps. “Did you forget that this is essentially a fake marriage? We’re not some happily wed couple. We’re not together!”
He’s right, but hearing the amount of venom in his voice when he says it still stings.
Pushing the hurt down, you quickly replace it with anger and pull yourself up quickly from the couch. “Alright, I get it! No need to be a fucking asshole!”
“Well, maybe that’ll make you remember it next time you throw yourself at me like you just did.” His change back to the asshole you knew, has you immediately on guard.
“Oh, give me a break I did not throw myself at you. I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have done that without consent.”
“As if someone like you would get my consent.”
You scoff. “Okay, asshole, fucking forget it. With such a shitty attitude, it’s not like you get women asking to be with you anyway.”
“Why, because I don’t go out every night fucking anything that moves?” He shoots back.
“You know what Yoongi, fuck you, okay? I don’t know why I thought things were getting better.”
“Yeah, I don’t know why you did either. This is still a fucking nightmare.”
“Wow. Okay, I’m done. You make me sick.” You spin on your heel, stomping down the hallway with your room in mind.
“The feeling is mutual!” Yoongi calls at your retreating back, always needing to have the last word.
You slam your door behind you, immediately crumpling to the ground, sobbing into the plush carpet. First dealing with your mom, then having Yoongi be just as nasty, is all too much. You didn’t expect him to be in love with you, but you like to think you were growing closer to him the past two months, even having your old feelings resurface, only for him to trample over those without hesitation.
You had grown to know him as more than an arrogant, nasty tyrant. He could be sweet, funny, thoughtful, and enjoyable to be around. This Yoongi, the cold and mean one though, you thought was finally gone. You were wrong.
Letting yourself wallow for much longer than you should, you finally pull yourself off the floor. Mascara stained and face hot, you stare at your reflection and are filled with a sense of anger. Angry at your mom for treating you like shit your whole life and angry at Yoongi for treating you like shit for months and angry at yourself for crying over them both.
With a renowned sense of determination, you stomp to the bathroom for a shower and decide that if you can’t get appreciation from the people closest to you, you’ll find it elsewhere.
It only takes you an hour to get dolled up and into one of your shortest, tightest dresses. You shoot a text to the group chat with your friends, only to find out that they’re all busy for the night. While you could invite any of your other contacts, you decide not to bother and go alone. The attention you’ll receive will be the same either way.
Yoongi’s bedroom door is shut and the apartment is silent when you leave, but you don’t care. When your driver pulls up, minutes after you step outside, you have him take you to a nearby bar that you frequent enough that the bodyguards and bartenders all know you.
This is proven by a simple wave at the door and you’re let inside. You receive the same treatment at the bar, the small crowd surrounding it immediately parting to allow you to sit as the bartender working immediately comes over and places a rum and coke in front of you.
“Hey beautiful,” A voice immediately murmurs from next to you. Flirtatiously, you turn to the voice, seeing a handsome face smiling at you.
“Hi there,” you purr, and the man takes this as his cue to take the seat next to you.
“Peach, right?”
“Mmhmm.” You offer out your hand and the stranger smirks, taking your hand and placing a kiss on top.
“Wonwoo. It’s great to finally meet you in person, Peach. Are you as sweet as your name suggests?” He flashes you a wide smile that you find extremely charming.
“Buy me another drink and you just might find out.” You wink. He immediately calls over the bartender, ordering “whatever you’re drinking now” and asking him to keep them coming as long as you’d like.
You offer Wonwoo a genuine smile, acutely aware of the eyes of other people in the bar locked on you, and your earlier trouble at home is just that easily forgotten.
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Yoongi is an idiot. He’s a huge fucking jerk. He keeps telling himself this all night after you disappear into your bedroom after your argument.
The argument that he admits he started.
He shouldn’t have taken the tiring day he had out on you. His father spent the day talking over every decision Yoongi tried to make, denying him any room to contribute in any of the many meetings they had to sit in. When he confronted him about it at the end of the night, he excused it with him not feeling as though Yoongi was knowledgeable enough, which led to some heated words and Yoongi storming out to go home.
When you kissed him, the way he reacted was wrong. He should have told you that he felt that things were complicated and that it’s better if you don’t get into a relationship right now. He’d be lying if he said getting close to you for nearly two months hasn’t had the earlier crush he harbored on you ease its way back into his heart.
But, he can’t be with you like that. How your relationship started is under false pretenses, and he doesn’t even know how to process his feelings. Not to mention he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to look past the relationship you and Namjoon had. It’s too much for him to try and dissect, so he’s opting not to get into that with you.
That’s not to say it’s what he wants. What he wanted earlier was to grab you and pull you into his arms. He wanted to grasp your face in his hands and let his lips collide with yours, and then maybe, just maybe, take you on the couch of your shared apartment.
He didn’t do this. Instead, he said things he shouldn’t have and sent the wedge that had eased its way out from between the two of you, back in with a vengeance.
After you storm to your bedroom, Yoongi sulks into his room and absorbs himself into his computer, headphones on, and music turned up to drown out the way he’s cursing himself for being an absolute moron.
Eventually, with tired eyes and a headache from staring at the screen for so long, he takes his headphones off. With a glance at the time, he sees that he’s been focused on his computer for at least three hours. His mind flickers to you as he stands to stretch, and he thinks about apologizing and seeing if any form of amends can be made.
This idea quickly leaves him when he suddenly notices the sound of you in the distance. He holds his breath and walks to his closed door, pressing his ear to the wood to hear better.
“Oh fuck.”
That’s definitely a moan he hears coming from you.
Yoongi’s face heats up at the thought of you touching yourself only a few feet away from him. He knows he shouldn’t, but he opens his bedroom door and creeps into the hallway. Your door is half-open and he can hear you letting out more breathy moans.
He makes it halfway to your door when he hears a moan that mirrors yours. A distinctly male moan.
Yoongi can’t explain it, but he suddenly feels rage run rampant over him. The earlier fight aside, the fact that you brought home another person to fuck in the place he also lives in has him seeing red. As much as he doesn't take your marriage seriously, he never thought about sleeping with someone else in your home.
He’s bursting into your room before he can stop himself, causing you to shriek in surprise. You’re completely naked, mounted on the lap of a strange naked man in your bed and Yoongi has the urge to drag the man out by his head of dark hair.
“Yoongi,” you slur out, “what the fuck?” He watches as you fall to your side on the bed, having lost balance.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” He practically roars and sees the man sit up quickly. He immediately recognizes him as someone he’s seen at plenty of his mother’s fancy dinners. Jeon Wonwoo, the son of one of the country’s biggest accounting companies, that Yoongi’s father happens to have a large stake in.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” You sass and roll off of the bed, hands grasping for your dress on the floor.
Wonwoo does the same, eyes meeting Yoongi’s rage-filled ones as he hastily pulls up his underwear. “I - uh - she said you weren’t home.” He stammers.
“Well I’m standing right in front of you, aren’t I?” Yoongi grumbles. “And I suggest you get the fuck out of my house before I make a call to my father who’ll make sure your miserable life is ruined along with your family.”
“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” Wonwoo bows furiously more times than Yoongi can count and scrambles out of the room, arms full of his clothes.
Once he’s gone, Yoongi turns his fiery gaze to you as you sway next to your bed, dress pulled on backward.
“What gives you the right to storm in here?!”
“This is my house! I live here too, or did all the alcohol give you sudden amnesia?”
“So what? I can do what I want in my house!”
“And that includes sleeping with strangers?! We’re married, remember?!”
You let out a frustrated scream, tugging at your dress. “Oh spare me! A few hours ago you told me this marriage means nothing to you and now you’re inserting yourself into my fucking business and trying to take charge of my personal life. That’s not how this works, Yoongi!”
You’re right and Yoongi knows it, but dammit he’s too stubborn to admit how jealous he is.
“That’s not the point! Do you know how disrespectful it is for you to bring some other person into the house that you share with the person you’re married to only to fuck them loud enough for the whole building to hear?!”
“You know what, I’m done with his conversation. Leave me alone, Yoongi. Stop talking to me, stop thinking about me, and stop existing around me!”
“Fine, I will! As a matter of fact, I’ll go ahead and exist in my own apartment away from you!”
“Great!”
With a final venomous look shared between the two of you, Yoongi storms to his room, immediately packing a bag of clothes, his laptop, and anything else he can get fit.
He throws a final glance at your now closed bedroom door before he’s out the front door and going to the parking garage to take his car and go back to his own apartment.
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Yoongi is gone for three days before his assistant shows up with a mover to collect the rest of the things he left behind. He hadn’t brought much in the first place, so it doesn’t take long.
“Did he tell you not to tell me anything?” You ask his assistant flatly, watching as she grabs the last box of knick-knacks. You’d been badgering Tzuyu since she showed up early in the morning to try and tell you when Yoongi would come back, but she was tight-lipped and turned you down each time.
You follow her to the front door, asking once more, and she turns to face you before you can finish the question.
“For the last time, Peach, I can’t say. All I’ll tell you is that I’m bringing this all to his apartment now.” Tzuyu is out the door before you can prod her with any follow-up questions.
It only takes a couple of hours before you find out what Yoongi’s plan is when you get the screaming phone call from your mom.
“What did you do?!” Is the first thing you hear when you answer. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you put the call on speaker. You’ve been rummaging in the kitchen for a few minutes before she called.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why the hell did I just get a call from Yoongi’s mother telling me they may be following through with a divorce?!”
The word ‘divorce’ has you faltering, your hand completely falling limp as you almost drop the bag of cookies in hand.
“A divorce?”
“This could ruin the business, you know! A divorce after being married less than a year will look so incredibly messy!
For some reason, even after having the apartment be empty for days, and all his belongings being taken out, the true realization that he wasn’t coming back and wanted to end things with you hurt. You’re aware this makes you sound like a fool, given the way you’ve interacted with him for the majority of your time married, but with your roller coaster of emotions for him, you’re more disappointed than anything to hear that he just wants it to be over.
“Y/n! Have you heard anything I’ve said?!” Your mom shrieks particularly loud, bringing you back from your thoughts.
“What?”
“Damnit, Y/n! Where’s Yoongi now?” She hisses.
“Not here. Pretty sure he moved back into his old apartment after we fought a few days ago.”
“Well, you better fix this! Your next major event together will be Jeon Jungkook’s birthday party so figure it out then. Make sure he does not go through with this divorce! Do something right for once for fucks sake!” She hangs up after that, leaving you no room to say anything else.
Stress washes over you immediately to the point that it’s suffocating. If Yoongi divorces you, the companies will be negatively impacted, which will lead to you taking even more shit from your parents - your mom especially - and this thought both terrifies and exhausts you.
In the same breath, you don’t know if you want to continue with someone who can be as wishy-washy as Yoongi can. It’s clear he doesn’t have his feelings together, and you’ve only had a short amount of time together to try and get closer with him, which hasn’t been incredibly successful, and you don’t even know if you want to try.
As she said, Jungkook’s party is the last chance you two have to try and mend things to stop the divorce. This seems much easier said than done of course, but you're not sure how successful it’ll be when all you do is yell at one another. You don’t even want to call him, as you don’t see that turning out well and you’re not even sure he’ll answer your call. All you can do is collect your thoughts in preparation for when you’ll see him in a week.
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Yoongi hates how anxious he feels to see you when you arrive. He’s been outside of the yacht where Jungkook’s birthday party is being held for only a few minutes before you. When he pulls up first, the waiting paparazzi hound him, throwing questions at him as to why his wife isn’t with him. He supplies them with a tale about how you told him to go first because you were running late from a dance class. He waves off any other questions and ignores them until your arrival.
He watches as one of your bare legs peeks out from the open car door, followed by the other, and then you. Your dress is a light shade of purple and clings to your curves from your chest to your hips, stopping right above your knees. The black heels you clack in over to him bring you and he nearly eye level.
He can barely take his eyes off you and the sound of the flashing cameras behind him signal that neither can anyone else. You stop in front of him, something unreadable in your eyes as you take in his fitted Armani suit.
You bring your arms up and around his neck while his arms go around your waist and pull you into him. The two of you have shown faux affection in public so many times that you both know without saying anything.
The hug is quick and you pull away to pose next to him for the cameras, a strained smile etched onto your face. He copies you, turning to the cameras, and offers waves and casual poses. You only take a few pictures, as he feels just how stiff you are next to him. You take his hand as you walk through the paparazzi, throwing smiles at them until you get to the dock where attendants are waiting next to smaller boats that will take you to the yacht itself.
Yoongi’s hand stays wrapped around yours as he helps you aboard then follows suit after you. You both offer a few more waves to the cameras until they’re far enough that you can’t see them.
The smile you had been wearing slips from your lips immediately as you let out a breath. Yoongi watches as your eyes fixate on the large boat ahead, not glancing at him again. He’s sure your mom has already berated you about the possibility of divorce, so he knows you need to talk.
He hadn’t meant to say it, but the night you had your big argument and he sped to his apartment, his mother called and he was so angry that he exploded, saying he was staying at his old apartment and that he didn’t care what she and his father wanted, but he was thinking of getting a divorce as soon as possible. He asked her not to tell anyone, but she of course did.
Your mom sent him an email a few days later, apologizing on your behalf. She assured him that married couples get into spats all the time and that you would be able to reconnect and settle any issues. Knowing your mom, he knew it was all fluff and that she was sucking up to him, but he was curious as to how you took the news.
The question continues to swirl in his mind as you step onto the yacht.
“Hyung!” Jungkook’s voice takes him from his thoughts and Yoongi waves as the younger man approaches. He is so focused on you, that he nearly forgot the reason he was here, which is to celebrate his friend.
“Hey, Jungkook. Happy birthday!” Yoongi pats his shoulder, his young friend beaming up at him.
“Thanks, Hyung.” He turns to you as you reach out for a quick hug.
“Happy birthday, Jungkook” are the first words he’s heard you utter all evening.
“Thank you, Noona! I’m glad you could both make it,” The tone in Jungkook’s voice suggests that he knows something is going on between you two. Yoongi sighs, knowing his mother must have taken the information about the divorce further than just your mom’s ears.
Yoongi narrows his eyes at Jungkook who simply shrugs. “Sorry, Hyung, I’ve gotta keep making the rounds to everyone, but I’ll talk to you later!”
Jungkook whisks himself away before Yoongi can try and question him further, which only serves to confirm his suspicions.
Setting that conversation aside, he turns to you, a flute of champagne already in hand. Yoongi frowns, seeing you easily knock it back. He remembers how your drinking tends to loosen you up, making you prone to speak without a filter as the flashbacks of quite a few arguments play in his mind. You should talk about things before you have too many more.
“Hey, Y/n, we need to talk.” Your eyes flicker up from your phone as you truly look at him for the first time.
“About how you want to divorce me?” The question tumbles out as if you’ve been bottling it up for much too long.
“Yeah, that. Look, I said it to my mom that night we had the big fight and I told her to keep it to herself, but I mean, there’s a reason she’s known as our circles’ gossip column.” Yoongi chuckles, but you don’t return the gesture.
“So, what, do you just want to talk about the terms of the divorce? I won’t take your money or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“That’s not why I’m bringing it up.” Yoongi says with too much attitude in his tone. You click your tongue at him and he shakes his head, taking a deep breath. He doesn’t know why talking to you always turns into a fight, but he does his best to stop himself. “What I mean is, she wasn’t supposed to blab to everyone. I’m not even sure if I want a divorce.”
“Of course, not. You can’t ever get your feelings together to talk to me about it.”
“Come on, Y/n, don’t be like this.” Yoongi feels his aggravation rise.
“Being like what? I’m tired of playing this game of emotional roulette with you. I feel like I never know the next thing you’re going to say to me at any given time we talk and it’s exhausting.”
“It’s not exactly fun for me!” He shoots back. Before you can answer, someone comes over and sweeps you into a conversation. Yoongi doesn’t know her personally, but he knows her name is Im Nayeon and that her family is one of the wealthiest in Korea - possibly even more so than both your families and a few other of his friends’. That’s why it’s in your best interest to entertain conversation with her.
She goes on for longer than Yoongi can keep track of and he isn’t even sure of what she’s talking about. Eventually, the three of you move to lean against a nearby railing as Nayeon is joined by her date and she continues going on about some trip she just got back from. As stealthily as he can, Yoongi eases his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through local news outlets and the updates he receives on his phone.
Everything is standard - stocks, new contracts, and mergers - all until he sees a familiar name in an article title. ‘Renowned Youtuber Y/n Y/l/n callmetiger95 Appointed Lead Strategist of Saga Games.’
Oh shit. That’s the girl Jungkook has been talking to. And that’s definitely the name of the Jeons’ rival game company. Yoongi scans the boat, looking for any sign of him.
“Right, Yoongi?” You call his name, elbowing him harshly in the side and making him jump.
“Huh?”
“I said, we’re still deciding where our first vacation as a married couple will be, right?”
“Oh yeah, right. Hey, I gotta go find Jungkook, okay? It was nice speaking with you, Nayeon.” He bows at the group before picking up the pace to find his friend. This wasn’t the best place and time to do this, admittedly, but if it was him, he’d want a friend to tell him this truth as soon as they found out.
He’d just talk to you later to clear things up and go from there.
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You lose track of how many vodka and Red Bulls you’ve thrown back somewhere between five and six. You know Yoongi’s been off doing whatever he wants the entire time, but you don’t care. He’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not interested in pretending with you further than some fake photos and equally as fake smiles, so he can do what he wants at this point.
Any buried anticipation you had about seeing him died when he left you in the conversation you had been trapped in with Im Nayeon. You know your friends are around here somewhere, but you’re much too tired to be social anymore. Nayeon chatted your ear off about her wonderful, perfect little life enough to make you want to jump over the edge of the yacht, so you were all socialized out.
Your mind flickers to whatever it was Yoongi tried to talk to you about the divorce, but you push it away. It clearly wasn’t important enough for him to stick around.
Besides, the bar seems like a better place to be than talking about your feelings and how miserable you’ve been.
“Another,” You motion to the bartender. The woman arches her eyebrow at you and you return the expression. This is all it takes to have her taking your empty glass and moving on to prepare you a fresh one.
“You know, you are much too gorgeous to be sitting here drinking alone.” You glance to your left, seeing a man who looks vaguely familiar slide into the empty chair next to you.
“Oh yeah? So who should I be here drinking with?” You scoff in response, eyes focusing back on the bartender as she adds the comical splash of Red Bull to your mostly clear glass.
“Well, I know you’re married to Min Yoongi, but he’s nowhere to be seen, which means you must need some company.” You roll your eyes at him, hands reaching for your full glass when it slides in front of you.
You take a generous sip, the alcohol burning on the way down. “And you think I want your company?” You turn in your chair, finally facing the man head-on. Taking in his expensive suit, slicked-back black hair, and tall stature, even when sitting down, the name Hyungwon pops into your head. His father owns a chunk of banks in the country if you’re not mistaken. This also isn’t the first time he’s tried to pick you up either.
“Oh, I know you want my company. Most women do.” You let out a bitter laugh, taking another swig. A previous version of Peach would’ve eaten this egotistical act up. You would’ve given him back a witty response of your own and there would only be a short bit of banter before you let him fuck you in some nearby closet or secluded part of the boat.
The you of today only feels exhaustion and slight disgust. Something seems to have shifted about the way you see the men in the circle you run in, and whether it’s Yoongi’s fault or some self-actualization bullshit, you’re not sure, but you don’t have time for it at this moment.
Your third gulp empties your cup, Hyungwon’s eyes on you the whole time. You take a deep breath as you set the glass down and fix him with a look that’s as intimidating as you can muster. The panicked look in his eyes has you thinking it’s working, but the sound of a throat clearing behind you makes it clear it wasn’t you.
“Hyungwon.” Yoongi’s voice, as hard as stone, has you even going rigid in your seat.
“Yoongi.” Hyungwon mumbles in response. “I was just asking your wife if she, uh, got to see the birthday boy. I wanted to give him my wishes again.”
“Jungkook was just with me. He’s just gone I’m afraid.” Yoongi says simply.
“Oh, that’s a shame. I’ll have to send him a text. Well, thanks Yoongi. See you around. Have a good night Peach, er, I mean, Y/n.” Hyungwon nods at you both before all but sprinting away from the cold eyes of your “husband.”
“Wow,” Yoongi huffs as soon as Hyungwon is out of earshot. “You can’t go a single night without whoring yourself out can you?”
You choke on your spit at that, turning in your seat harshly to fix Yoongi with a glare. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
He returns your look with the same intensity. “You heard me. Embarrassing me in our home is one thing but in public? How do you not have any shame?”
“First of all, you absolute asshole, Hyungwon approached me.”
“Oh, so that makes it better?” Yoongi laughs bitterly. “I bet if I hadn’t shown up when I did you’d already have his dick down your throat for everyone to see.”
The sharp sound of your hand connecting with Yoongi’s cheek is loud and crisp, catching the attention of everyone nearby, but you don’t care.
“I’ve let you get away with saying a lot of fucked up shit to me throughout this entire marriage, and it stops now. You’re not the only one with mommy and daddy issues, but the difference between the two of us is I don’t use it as an excuse to be cruel. You’re rude and miserable and take your own shit out on everyone around you.”
“And the way you party your sad little life away and fuck anything that’ll have you is a great way of coping with your issues?”
“At least I don’t treat people like shit, you heartless prick!”
You and Yoongi are both breathing heavily, staring each other down with fire in your eyes.
“Now listen to me, you -”
“No, you listen to me, Min Yoongi. I’m not going to let you talk to me however you want to anymore. For the past six months, I’ve let you get away with a lot of shit, but no more. You can do whatever the fuck you need to do about this marriage, but I’m not about to try with some asshole who doesn’t care about me. I’m done.” You slide off of your seat, stumbling only a little on wobbly legs.
“Oh don’t worry, I’ll do whatever I can about it whether my parents like it or not.”
“Good. Now, I’m going home so I don’t have to see your stupid fucking face anymore.” Your anger, having reached its peak only a few seconds ago, seems to be simmering down. That is until Yoongi decides to open his mouth again, to try and get the final word in.
“Try not to open your legs for anyone on the way home. I know how hard that is for you.”
Fists clenched and anger surfacing again, your eyes flicker to the full glass on the bar next to you. When did the bartender slip another drink to you?
You don’t think too much about it and instead reach for the glass, tossing the entire thing right in Yoongi’s face. His angry expression only intensifies into something akin to rage, but you don’t care to stick around and continue this game with him.
Turning on your heel, you beeline straight to the entrance where you came in and where you know there are attendants on standby to take anyone who wants to leave back to shore.
Judging by the gasps and the looks you received during the argument, you know there will be plenty of people in your circle talking about what just happened, and you know you’ll be getting a scathing phone call from your mom about this, but the only thing you want to do right now is get away from Min Yoongi, for as long as you can help it.
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lavishedinjimin · 11 months ago
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Hickeys 101 -> dilf!jjk
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— synopsis: After Jungkook catches you messing around with another boy, he was determined to teach you a lesson you'll only learn from a father... well, step-father.
↳ pairing: dilf jungkook x f.reader
↳ genre: smut/angst
↳ rating: 18+
↳ word count: 8.6k
↳ warnings: step-dad jungkook, AGE GAP, all characters are in legal age, D/S, daddy kink, condescension, degradation, they’re both toxic and mean, mind manipulation, Jungkook puts OC in subspace, face fucking, spitting, usage of a belt, unprotected sex (ya’ll know the drill already!), little aftercare
A/N: this fic is not suitable for all audiences. If you are easily offended and are sensitive to the warnings stated above, this might not be for you. reminder that the events in this story are purely made up and fictional.
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Living with no one else other than your profoundly distant stepdad during lockdown – where you can’t escape, where you can’t go anywhere – is much harder than this zoom class you’re attending. 
“I'm so exhausted,” you mutter beneath your breath, rolling your eyes to the back of your head for your brain hurts from your Econ professor’s infuriating voice. 
Most of the time you are shuffling endlessly from how uncomfortable the wooden chair in this dining area is. With your laptop placed in front of you, the blue light surely ruining your eyes, you tirelessly listen to the lecture as much as your brain could wield. 
But your attention span isn't as great as most people.
Completely losing your focus on the class after two minutes, you turn your attention to your stepdad working his way to the kitchen.
“Can you put a goddamn shirt on?” you huff, a tinge of irritation in your voice.
He passes by you with a swift glance. 
“How are you doing?” Jungkook asks, utterly ignoring your complaint. 
“Since when did you care?” You place your chin on top of your palm, stopping your urges to not look at his exposed torso. His sleeve of tattoos was undeniably eye-catching, but you were too petty to go a have a normal conversation with him. 
Jungkook, on the other hand, was used to your sharp tongue. He knew you didn’t like him ever since he started to date your mom. But now that he was technically your parent, he has all the right to correct you and put you in your place. 
“You know I don’t like that tone, missy.” Jungkook stretches out his words, sounding stern. But you just sarcastically laugh him off. 
As your stepdad was making some food in the kitchen, the class grew longer and more monotonous than ever. You were never the type to pay attention in class, and neither did it help that the school decided to move to online learning. Now you’re truly failing school. 
“Jung—dad,” you sigh, realizing that his exposed back can almost be seen on your front camera’s screen, “can you scoot back a little? They can see you on-cam.” 
“Nope.” 
Jungkook chuckles at the way you grunt as he continues to make his avocado toast. 
“Oh come on—” Jungkook teasingly shows the rest of his behind to the camera, not caring at all that your professor and classmates can see. “Give them a little show.” 
“No!” immediately, you close your camera before swiftly turning your head to his direction, “Can you just stop? Okay? I’m trying to pay attention and you’re not helping!” You yell, banging your fist on the wooden table. 
“I’m so tired, dad. Can you just go away?!” 
He replies with his back still facing you, “Maybe if you asked a little nicer than that, little girl.” 
With a complete shock to the words he used, you found yourself blushing in red while your eyes slowly expand. Your body's reaction from that single sentence was intoxicating. Your class was now forgotten and your professor's voice became white noise. 
“W-What did you just call me?” You didn’t expect your tone to be as soft as it seemed. 
Jungkook finally flips around to face you. He scans you, taking a good look at you as he crosses his arms together. 
You couldn't dismiss that the way he looked at you made you feel something. Something that you’ve never experienced before. 
“I called you little girl. That’s what you are, right?” he sneers, “A little girl who thinks she can talk to her father so impolitely.” 
It was like a cat got your tongue. You flutter your eyes, trying to think of what to reply. 
Jungkook clicks his tongue, “Tsk. See, you're rubbish in talking, Y/n. Once I start to put you in your place, you can no longer put on that bratty act on me.” He suddenly starts to walk over to you, putting you in a frenzy. You sit up straight, pursing your lips as you can't seem to breathe normally. 
You cannot believe what was happening. Your mind starts to wander off from reality, trying to figure out what he is trying to tell you. Why did his voice change the way it did? As he walks closer, you can feel the warmth of his body enveloping yours. It was a situation that you wanted to run away from, but at the same time, you craved. 
With your back to him, he places his hands to rest on the table in front of you. He traps you in your place, not letting you escape. Your breath hitch unexpectedly as he leans his face closer to yours. 
“Jungkook… go away f-from me.” A trail of curses echoes in your mind, for you wanted to sound intimidating and not like a little kid. 
Jungkook chuckles and clicks his tongue, “Then push me away, little girl.” 
Everything in your system freezes. As if you just had been tasered, you feel electricity shooting throughout your body. Jungkook adores your reaction. He’s older than you, he knows more than you; and he knows just how to make a woman as you melt beneath his palms. 
“Silent now, aren’t we?” he teases with a velvety voice, inching his face even closer to the curve of your neck. Strands of his hair tickle your neck as hot breath blows against your skin, causing shivers down your spine. 
He hears a little whimper from you, making the grin on his face growing wider. “Be. A. Good. Girl. For. Me,” he says through an award-winning smirk.  
But – of course – you will not let yourself lose. 
“No.” 
“No?” he stares at you, baffled. 
“Never in a million years,” a bitter grin appears on your face.  
Jungkook leans back and away from you. He was a hundred percent sure that he’s got you under his spell, but your reply got his mouth dry. 
“Yeah?” So, he’s resulting in Plan B. 
A hands-on experience. 
Slowly and delicately, he lifts his tattooed-covered hand and wraps it around your neck. “Mhmm, there we go,” he coos after hearing another sudden whimper, “Remember who you're talking to, little girl, got it?” 
Your palms start to get sweaty as you try your hardest not to moan. Jungkook grips your jugular tighter, making you hitch a breath. You can hear him grunt under his breath, knowing for a fact that this was turning him on as well. 
“Who are you talking to, huh?” he starts to get aggressive as he presses his lips right against the shell of your ear. “Tell me, little girl. Remind yourself who’s in charge. C’mon, can’t speak now, baby?” 
Baby. 
Your eyes automatically close at that, feeling butterflies in your stomach. “Daddy.” 
“Mhm, good girl—”
“Daddy,” you whine, “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, y-you’re in control.” 
‘Finally’, Jungkook thinks to himself with a large cocky grin on his face. He finally got you to submit. 
“Someone’s not as tough as they seem… I think I need to punish you for being such a fucking brat. What do you say?” 
The way he said those words right against your ear instantly made your panties wet. It was humiliating that you got turned on by your stepdad, but at the same time, it was hot. 
“Little girl… tsk, I need you to answer with your words and not with a desperate whimper.” 
He releases the grip he has on your throat and instead, elevates his hand so that his fingers can rub against your scalp. A tingling sensation runs through your backbone as he massages your scalp, feeling so overwhelmingly good that made you lean back against his hand, yearning for more. 
“Punish me,” you say in an almost audible whisper. “Do what you want, I don’t care. Please, please, please…” 
Jungkook takes a good look at you; your cheeks flushed, eyelids closed and your mouth slightly parted. It looks like you were enjoying this a lot – too much to be exact. 
The feeling was something else, something foreign that you honestly craved for such a long time. You and Jungkook had were never close, and you’ve never thought of him as a real father figure. After such a long time of not having a man to run the family, you didn’t know how to act around one. 
Within a second of realization that you were loving this too much, he removes his hand from you and walks away without saying anything else. You feel like you just got heartbroken.  
“W-What… why did you?” you stutter through a long exhale. Your eyes begged for him to come back, damn it – you were ready for him! 
As Jungkook walks away from the kitchen with his bare, muscular back facing you, he says a final time, “Take your studies seriously, Y/n. I don’t want you failing any subject.” 
You feel your shoulders slump down and your mouth purses into a straight line. You just got edged by your stepdad. 
Staying silent was, you thought, the right thing to do at the moment. You insatiably did not trust your voice, and there was nothing to say to him without embarrassing yourself. 
You glance at the clock on the wall just beside the refrigerator. As your classes were done for the day, and you have the rest of the afternoon all to yourself. Despite all of the unfinished homework that you currently have piled in your calendar, you still choose to watch a movie on Netflix and eat a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. 
And, of course, all this just to distract yourself from the bizarre shit that happened between you and your step-dad, and to divert your attention on something else other than how sexy he is. 
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“Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you’re going this late?” Your dad stops you from stepping outside the door, grabbing you by the arm. You close your eyes for a brief moment, inhaling some air to let your senses calm down. The door was already opened, and all you had to do was to get out a little faster, and he wouldn’t have caught you. 
Perhaps trying to sneak out of the house was harder than you thought. 
Jungkook spins you around and makes you look at his dark eyes despite the dim lights of the entryway. He wears black checkered pajama pants and a white tank top, hair all messy as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. 
“It’s ten o’clock, and you’re supposed to be in bed,” he warns you with a strict tone. 
Snatching your arm away from him, you reply with gritted teeth, “I’m going out with a friend.” 
“Friend?” he scoffs, “I wasn’t born last night, Y/n. Where is he?” 
“He?” You slowly back away, taking tiny little steps closer to the door, “What do you mean ‘he’? I’m not going out with any guy, dad.” 
Jungkook rests his hips on one leg and eyes you up and down. Based on what you were wearing and the makeup that you have on, you looked like you’re about to give some boy the time of his life. 
“I’m not going to do anything I’d regret, I promise,” you whisper as quiet as the night sky behind you. “I’ll be good, daddy.” 
That was all it took for Jungkook to stop his tracks. You knew what you just did to him. The way how we reacted, how he froze immediately at his place, was the same reaction you had earlier this day when he did all those dirty things to you. Now he was in your shoes. 
As Jungkook looked like a dear in headlights, that was the time where you rushed off into the middle of the streets where Yeonjun’s car is hesitantly parked. 
“Quick, quick, quick!” you half-whispered, half-shouted as you closed the passenger’s door. Yeonjun laughs loudly while setting the gear up, preparing the car for a long, speedy ride. 
You look back and see Jungkook standing outside the porch, watching in awe as the car drives away from him. There was nothing funnier than seeing his stunned expression, for he couldn't do anything about your mischief anymore. 
“Is he angry?” Yeonjun asks, still giggling in his seat. 
“Yeah, he didn’t want me to leave,” You swing the seatbelt across your torso, securing it in the buckle. 
Yeonjun passes you a drink he bought for you from McDonald’s in which you gladly receive with thanks. “What’s this?” you ask before taking a sip. 
“Iced coffee. We’re out here for a long, long night, Y/n. See, I have one for myself!” he exclaims as he points to his drink sitting on the cupholder.
Yeonjun pulls down the windows so that you two can get a feel of the cold, fresh air of the starry night. Strands of hair would so often get caught in between your lips, distracting you from the relaxing scenario. 
Lifting your elbow to rest on the window frame, you ask him, “Are you sure this drive-in cinema is open this late at night?” 
“Of course, they’re open 24/7.” Yeonjun takes a quick look at you before returning his focus on the road. He smirks slightly, “We’re gonna have so much fun, Y/n. You won’t regret it.” 
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You’ve already entered high-school when Jungkook met you. His first impressions of you were bashful and conservative, only showing your true nature around your friends. He thought you were such a warmhearted kid. He was only dating your mother at the time. 
But you’ve never really felt that he was a part of the family. His aura was never the nurturing ‘dad’ type, but rather, the ‘cool uncle’. He was never accustomed to kids, he’s the youngest of his siblings, so it was astounding that he’d ever married someone with a hormonal teen. 
Thus, as you’ve grown older, he’s slowly seeing your real side. Inch by inch, you're letting him see your colors and how you behave. A snappy and confident girl you are. You always have an opinion on things and you despise it when somebody gets in your way. 
That’s how your mother raised you. She taught you how to stand up for yourself and how to make yourself known, even though you sometimes overstep people’s boundaries.
Your mom was out of town for a trip with her office friends. She just landed a new job at the local government unit, and she was invited to their annual orientation. Which, if you were in her shoes, wouldn’t go to. But thankfully without her strict guidance, you can do whatever you want. 
Just say the magic words to your stepdad, and he’ll be putty in your hands. 
Consequently, Jungkook won't admit that he doesn’t like your attitude you put on him. He cares for you, he does. But if there’s ever a situation that you cross his limits, he wouldn’t hesitate to punish you and make it known that in the end, he’s older and you need to obey him.
Scared was a downright understatement. No matter how much you try to be brave and face whatever your stepdad might do to you as a penalty for ‘misbehaving’, you couldn’t help but break into a cold sweat. 
It was two in the morning, and your eyes are bloodshot red from almost having no sleep at all, besides the little nap you and Yeonjun took after watching a series of old movies in the drive-in cinema. You were wearing his sweater that he gave to you to keep you warm. 
“Thank you for tonight, Yeonjun,” you lean into the window frame, resting your arms on it. The yellow-haired boy smiles at you, his eyes wandering around your face as if memorizing every pattern of your features. He takes a final look at your bruised, swollen lips and hickey-covered neck before orienting his torso close to you. His face was an inch away from yours before he kisses you goodbye. 
“Try not to get caught,” he whispers against your lips with a cheeky grin. 
“You said that before, and I got caught,” you shrug while tilting your head to the side, “Say something else.” 
Yeonjun scrunches his nose. He uses his right hand to pinch your cheek endearingly, “Alright, then. How about… good luck with your stepdad.” 
Pursing your lips into a thin line, you release an exasperated sigh while closing your eyes. The two of you result in laughter, before giving him his goodbye.
Hurriedly, you rush around the house until you arrive at your bedroom window. Thanking your past self for slightly lifting the glass pane open beforehand, it was easy for you to sneak in without any faults.
The room was dim only because of the dawn lights outside. “Ah, finally,” you shut the window, hearing the loud ‘thud’ in contrast to the quiet atmosphere around you. 
“Did you enjoy yourself, hm?” 
‘Oh. My. God.’ 
It feels like you were in a horror movie. Jungkook’s cold voice sent shivers all over your body, running down your spine, arms, and legs. Frozen in your place, you gulp the ball that formed in your throat. 
Jungkook was sitting comfortably in your bed, one leg above another. “You know, little girl, I didn’t know how comfy this bed is. I might sleep in here with you sometimes.” 
“What?” you abruptly turn to look at him. He had a despicable smirk, knowing what he said has gotten on your nerves. “You will not sleep with me.” 
“Why not?” he doesn’t lose eye contact with you as he stands up, “You’re my baby girl.” 
Your breathing turned heavy as he slowly pushes you back into a concrete wall, not providing you any room to run away. “I-I’m…I’m what?” 
His eyes inspect your body up and down. You were praying to someone above that he wouldn’t see your hickeys, but it was all too late, and he knows you too much. 
Jungkook prods his tongue in his cheek once his menacing eyes stay on your neck. He looks straight into your eyes, before directing them back to those hickeys. 
“What is this—” your breathing snags from how rapid he was to press his body against you, wrapping his right hand around your jaw. He forcefully tilts your head to gain more access to your neck. Jungkook analyzes the deep red and purple marks on your skin, feeling oh-so disappointed in you. You turn squeamish from how tight he holds you, hearing how rugged the way his breath became, deep inhales and aggressive exhales. “What a fucking slut you are.” 
You feel your blood rushing out from your face, turning pale in a mere second of him saying that word to you. 
With a gruff, guttural voice, Jungkook doesn’t let you explain for he swiftly turns you around, pushing your frontside onto the cold wall. 
He holds the back of your neck and “I stayed up all fucking night waiting for you to come back home. Despite how fucking irritating and bratty you are, no matter how much you hate me, I care for you, Y/n. I fucking care for you, and I promised your mother that I’ll look after you.” 
You whimper when he tightens his grip once again, but you didn’t think about pushing away. 
“But here you are, not even cooperating with daddy.” 
“You’re not—”
Jungkook suddenly gives your clothed ass cheek a hard, loud spank. Your engrossed gasp captivated the room, and it sure did something to him. Jungkook, although he knows that you can’t see him, hides his growing smirk by biting his lower lip. He gives you a second spank, and a third spank, making your legs quiver and knees buckle from the pain. 
“P-Please stop…” you whine, your hands trying to reach behind you to grab his arms. 
“Stop?” he raises an eyebrow, “Wanna stop, little girl? You don’t like it when daddy spanks your ass?” 
However, you don’t answer. You don’t know what you want. The situation turned you on, and you know you’ll love the way your ass will burn afterward. Why stop now when you can enjoy it? 
Jungkook sees your mind was racing with thoughts, and he takes this as a perfect opportunity to drag you along with him to the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress and swings you over his knee. 
“Stop!” you yell loudly this time, trying to pry away, but he was holding onto you tightly. 
“Shut up,” Jungkook growls, his voice immediately changes into a much deeper, hoarser tone. He, once again, grabs your jaw and forces you to tilt your head up, making you look directly into his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, little girl. You do nothing but run your mouth all over this goddamn house.” 
Jungkook was angry. The pads of his fingertips dig deeper into the skin of your jaw and lower cheeks, causing your lips to form a pout. 
He clicks his tongue, “Y/n, Y/n, Y/n. If you think that I’m going to let you go so easily, I’m afraid that you’re wrong, dear. I’ve finally gotten you between my teeth!” he exclaims sarcastically, although the sour tone of his voice makes you cringe. 
“You think you’re the shit, huh? Wanting attention so bad that you sneak out at midnight to fuck a disgusting pig. Am I right, Y/n?” 
“How fucking—” you shake and try to wiggle yourself out of his grip, offended by the words he said. You wanted to punch him yet cry at the same time. “How fucking dare you!” Facing him with tears slowly welling up in your eyes, “I-I do not— Yeonjun’s not… ugh!” You dig your nails into your palm from the raging frustration that was filling your mind and body. You kick your legs up and down, but Jungkook was not having it. He isn’t letting you go any time soon because he constricts your wrists together behind your back, tighter. 
“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook smirks menacingly, “Relax, little girl, relax. You’re safe now in daddy’s arms. Perhaps that Yeonjun boy has gotten in your head a little too much, hm? Don’t worry, daddy will fix your attitude.” 
Without hesitating at all, Jungkook pulls your skirt down, revealing your lace panties all to his eyes. His warm hand rubs your soft flesh, squeezing it here and there. He knows that you like it. He knows that you’re only keeping this little act up to seem tough. But he sees the way your eyes dilate whenever he says a word that triggers you, that triggers you in a way that’ll make you surrender to him. 
Take the kitchen scenario, for example. With one word, with a specific act, you were melting for him. He knows that you absolutely can’t get enough of him, and he loves to play with your mind. 
He was completely aware that it wasn’t Yeonjun or anything else that makes you act like this; acting like a little monster. It was all because of him; he’s the one responsible. 
And he’s the one who will fix you.  
“Come on, baby,” Jungkook’s tone turns softer, more delicate. He hits your ass once, twice, before cooing you with shushes. 
You slowly get hazy, the spiteful and bratty part of your brain switches off. A shiver runs throughout your system when he wraps his hand around your neck. Flashes of the kitchen scenario fill your mind; how submissive you turned for him so swiftly. Your consciousness knows that you’re doing it for a second time. 
“Where’s my good baby girl, hm? Where’s that little girl that I love so, so fucking much?” He says through gritted teeth at the last sentence, spanking your butt again. 
His thumb rubs soothing repetitive circles on your skin, disregarding how firm he was choking you. You close your eyes, sniffing a little, somehow feeling tranquility in his grasp. 
You release a pain-filled mewl when he purposefully presses his thumb against the giant reddish-purple hickey on your neck. Jungkook’s cock hardens beneath his sweatpants, forming an obvious outline as each second passes. 
He was enthralled by you. The way you move and the way you behave for him was addictive to see. “Yeonjun, huh?” Jungkook grins, “What’s this hickey for? Little girl?” Jungkook laughs as he lands another critical spank, causing your body to slightly jolt forward. “Is this his way of ‘marking’ you, hm? Claiming you as his own?” he doesn’t stop giggling from his own words, mocking you with a bitter attitude. 
“How pathetic, don’t you think? You allow yourself to be ‘claimed’ by a random dude you just met. Are you proud of yourself? Oh, I bet you’re very delighted that you’ve finally found attention from a boy.” 
He chokes you harder, pressing his thumb firmer against the hickey. The pain shoots throughout your body, making you quiver and close your eyes. However, you don’t respond. It was too humiliating to admit that his words were surprisingly true.
Without a warning, he hooks his index finger along the waistband of your panties and yanks it down. You sharply inhale through your nose, chewing down on your bottom lip as you feel two slender fingers play with your wet slit. Jungkook groans lowly from how wet you are, watching your pussy clench and unclench around nothing. 
“But you… oh you, Y/n—” he flips you back up and positions you to sit on his thighs, straddling him. Jungkook tilts his head and raises both of his brows, looking at you with disbelief. 
He exhales his words out, “You don’t know how to hide that skanky hickey of yours. Have you ever thought about covering up your hickey just as any other teen with a working brain, you slut?” 
Jungkook’s vicious, barbed words hit you like a truck. You look away from him, but he was quick to place a finger on your chin. He flicks his finger up, your head joining the gesture. 
As his tongue dances along with his plush bottom lip, he places his hands on your hips and squeezes thoroughly. His eyes rake your body up and down, your exposed cunt exposed to him. 
“Hickeys 101, Y/n. Conceal and disguise your hickeys if you don’t want to be caught,” he smirks, “but of course you wanted to be caught. You wanted all of this to happen.” 
“I don’t care.” You shake your head, trying your hardest to force a poker-face, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. His hands were toying with your waist, tapping his fingertips on your dressed skin. Why does he have to mess with your mind like this?
Sensual. Your stepdad reeked sex appeal and you hate yourself for loving it so much. His senses stick to you like a shadow you can’t escape, his aura addicting, and you want more of it. 
He pulls you closer, hands on each side of your face. His nose was a millimeter away from your own, and you can feel his hot breath fanning your face. That awful smirk doesn’t wipe off of his face. He looks at your lips, then back to your eyes. As much as he was admiring your beauty, you were doing the same. 
Jungkook was undoubtedly handsome. Perfect, strong features that no man in your liking can ever compare. His luscious, long hair with wavy strands here and there frames his face, encompassing his flawless appearance. 
There’s no way you will ever say no to him. 
He kisses you. Pressing his lips against yours, he kisses you so gently that you forget that he’s supposed to punish you. The kiss was tender and soft, a kiss like he would give to a girl’s first time. 
‘You’re kissing your stepdad, idiot.’ A voice at the back of your mind says. However, easily disregarding that conflicting thought, Jungkook pulls away before you can even take the kiss to the next level. 
“Little girl, oh, baby,” he laughs, “I’m going to hurt you. I’m gonna fucking bruise you until I can see tears in your eyes.” 
He easily throws you on the bed and he starts to strip himself down to his boxers. There was an evident fear written across your face, hugging your knees to your chest as you watch his dick grow beneath his underwear. 
“Take your fucking shirt off,” he growls, “Take everything off. Now.” His natural dominating presence allowed you to obey him quite easily. You did as you were told, keeping eye contact the whole time just to tease him. Sucking your bottom lip, you hide your sly grin. 
Jungkook stands tall from the edge of the bed, his honeydew skin being a perfect contrast with his dark hair. He palms himself through his boxer briefs, not having any hesitation at all. His eyes never leave you as you take off every piece of clothing from your body. You felt a little insecure, yes, but you gulp that nervousness down your throat. 
However, as soon as you took your top off, Jungkook caught a glimpse of more hickeys scattered all over your chest. This sight causes him to tilt his head back with an exasperated sigh. 
“Crawl.” He motions with his index and middle finger a ‘come here’ motion, “Crawl to me, little girl.” 
You get down on all fours and do as your told. He smiles with a content look on his face, but was soon replaced with a seductive gaze, “Did you have sex with that boy?” 
“W-What? No, I didn’t!” you answer quickly, shaking your head. 
His throbbing cock was right in front of your face. Aside from it still being covered with his underwear, you can spot how it twitches then are there. He holds your head with both of his warm hands, “Tell me, little girl. What are you?”
Your mouth gapes open but no word comes out. With your mind filled with lust and desire, you couldn’t understand what he meant. 
Jungkook pulls his cock out, but he doesn’t let you see it at first. He holds your head up and won’t even tolerate you taking a glance. 
“You don’t know what you are, huh?” he scoffs bitterly, “I knew you wouldn’t. What’s a girl like you anyway, right?” 
Your heart pounds rapidly in your chest. 
“Repeat after me, Y/n. I am a whore.” 
You whimper, pouting your lips. 
“C’mon, don’t say it’s too degrading for you, whore. It’s the bare fucking minimum for me. Don’t you want me to be proud of you?” 
Oh, he knows what he’s doing to you. He knows and of your weaknesses and he’s been using those against you. But you – you were naïve enough to notice that. 
“I’m…” you blink rapidly, “I’m a whore.” 
He snarks whilst stroking your luscious hair, “Louder.” 
Jungkook ignores your whines and waits for you with a quirked eyebrow. His patience was wearing thin and you were walking on thin ice right now. 
“I’m a whore.” You repeat loudly this time, the words sinking deep into your soul.
He leans down and slants his head, “And what do whores get, hm?” 
“I-I don’t know.” 
Jungkook wraps a big hand around his thick cock, aligning the tip in front of your mouth. You gasp. “They get their bratty mouths stuffed with dick.”
There wasn’t even a warning as Jungkook shoves his dick down your throat, making you gag and choke harshly around his girth. Jungkook growls deeply, his eyes rolling back to his head. 
Your saliva starts to drip down to your chin as he face-fucks you, not giving you the time to breathe nor to adjust to his long length. With one hand, he creates a makeshift ponytail and pushes your head farther down his dick. 
The whimpers you made out of protest didn’t even work, because the vibrations it caused pleasured him even more. 
“Mhmm, that’s right, struggle for me,” he moans, watching your eyes filling up with tears. “This is where you belong, whore. Right at your stepdad’s mercy and submission. You don’t get to choose what you want because I owe you. I control you.” 
Jungkook further fucks you as his hips thrust back and forth with no remorse. Gagging sounds fill the entire room and it just turns him on increasingly. 
“Look at me. Look at me!” he grunts as he pulls his dick out. He watches a single tear fall down your cheek, making his mouth form another devilish grin.
He leans down to grab something from the floor, but you don’t notice. 
“You’re such a mess, little girl. Just what daddy wants you to be.”
Jungkook takes his shaft and abruptly slaps your cheek with his dick. He hits your flesh a couple of times, humming in delight. 
In a swift, quick second, you suddenly feel a hard and raging sting on your right ass cheek from an unexpected impact. You cry out loud, shutting your eyes from the pain you experienced without a notice. 
His belt. 
The harsh leather material instantly caused redness on your delicate, soft skin. Jungkook whips you again, triggering a downpour of tears. You release incoherent noises every time he spanks you, for every hit was harder and sharper from the last. 
“You’re a naughty, irresponsible little girl.” He declares alongside another hit. He makes sure that each cheek was covered in red belt marks. His cock stands tall before you, drenched in your saliva as it leaks precum. You couldn’t take your eyes off of it and he takes this into account. 
Another hit, he puts all his strength in, making you inhale a sharp breath. Jungkook takes this shot to plunge his dick deep back into your mouth, pushing past your gag reflex as you struggle for air once more. 
Your pussy was awfully drenched and you can feel your wetness drip down from your slit and onto your inner thighs. You’ve never been this wet before, and it was insane that it’s all because of your unquestionably hot step-dad. 
It was like you’re in a porn video. No matter how rough he was fucking your face, you enjoyed it and you were moaning as he obliterates your throat. 
Jungkook pushes his cock deeper, your entire body twitching from the foreign feeling. “Stay there, stay there,” he rasps, “Stay there and take my big fucking dick down your little throat. Yes, that’s right, ohh fuck.” 
Every muscle in his body flexes as he tries to keep you still. "This is all you're good for, slut. You deserve to be used for pleasure from a man. You're nothing but a cockwhore." His biceps harden as he puts your head in place, abs tight. He leans forward and encloses your poor head with his strong thighs, securing yourself to his dick. 
With another crack of his belt onto your ass, you cry. Jungkook admires the sight of chaos he’s created. Once he was satisfied with the look of you, he pulls out. 
This is what he likes; messy and all wet. A string of saliva connects from your lips and to the tip of his dick. You try to catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling so sharply. Looking up at him with red, pitiable eyes, you give him a sullen expression. 
“You see what you did there, little girl? Hm? Now tell me again, what are you?” 
This time, you don’t hesitate. 
“I’m a whore.” 
“Yes, you are. Yes, you are, baby. You’re daddy’s little whore.” 
Your mind turns fuzzy once again. It was clear that you were not yourself anymore. If you weren’t drunk in lust, you wouldn’t let this happen and you absolutely wouldn’t allow him to handle you this way. 
But then again, it was too difficult to not succumb to him. 
“Cute little thing,” he murmurs beneath his breath. “Bet your pussy taste fucking delicious. Go on, turn around for daddy and let him see.” 
Your cheeks blush once you’ve obeyed his order and your cunt was exposed all for his eyes. Feeling a hand run down your sore ass, you whine as his fingers trail down your inner thighs, purposely ignoring your needy pussy. 
Jungkook was biting his lip so hard that he can almost draw blood. Ever so slightly, the pad of his thumb glides across your wet slit, lightly pressing against it. “Jungkook,” you whisper, wiggling your butt for more. 
“Oww fuck!” you drop your face on the mattress when Jungkook slaps your pussy unanticipatedly. Legs quivering in need, you bite down on the sheets. 
“Surprised that you don’t know how to address me, Y/n.” In a quick motion, he pushes two fingers inside your sopping entrance. 
Already feeling full, your back painfully arches as you attempt to take his fingers that were thrusting in and out so boldly. Suave movements of his digits caused a chill down your back, feeling too much euphoria at once. 
“What’s my name again?” he inquires before using his thumb to rub on your throbbing clit. 
“Daddy,” you reply quickly, not wanting to be punished further. 
“Good girl,” he chuckles, “that’s what a good girl should do; follow instructions without having to tell twice. You just love taking orders, don’t you? Huh?” 
“I-I do,” your face heats up immensely, stomach churning. 
Jungkook hums approvingly as he spreads your ass cheeks apart with his hands. You can feel the heat radiating off of his face as he leans into your cunt. With a bold lick of his tongue, your body shivers as the strong muscle toys with your folds. 
“Oh, please,” you moan, “that feels so good.” 
“Really now?” Jungkook gathers a bunch of his saliva and spits it down on your cunt, making it wetter and lubricated than it already was. He takes your clit into his mouth and sucks profusely, licking and biting here and there. The sound of your moans fueled his hunger for your cum, but he was not letting you go so easily. 
His tongue flicks your clit without mercy before inserting two fingers inside your hole once more. He feels your walls flutter around his digits, signaling your upcoming orgasm. 
He pulls away completely. 
Jungkook ignores your cries and how you bucked your hips to him, wanting more. He instructs you to lay down on the bed with your back against the headboard. Grasping the belt in his hand, you swallow the formed ball down your throat as you watch him crawl to you – like a predator hunting for its prey. 
“Pretty,” he mumbles to himself, eyeing you up and down. He kneels before you and grabs your neck, pulling you to him. If it weren’t for his lewdness and obscure actions, then you would say that his smile was sweet. But you know for a fact that his mind was thinking of different ways on how to torture you. 
Your eyes widen as he wraps the black leather belt around your jugular, using it like it's a dog collar and leash. “What are you – ohh…” Jungkook tightens the belt not enough to suffocate you, but enough for you to feel that it’ there. 
“Gotta hide that hideous hickey of yours, little girl. The more I look at it, the more I remember how much of a slut you are for that boy. Tell me, can Yeonjun make you feel the way I make you feel?” 
"No," you meekly reply with a little shake of your head. Nothing will ever compare to what Jungkook makes you feel than any other.
He wraps the belt around his fist and tugs on it, causing you to jolt forward, face closer to him. His nose barely grazes against yours. "Tell daddy you're sorry."
"B-But..."
He tilts his head in confusion, surely not expecting you to reply with anything else than a simple 'sorry.'
"But what?" he nags, slowly growing annoyed.
"I didn't mean to do it with Yeonju—". 
*Slap*
His hands collide with your right cheek, slapping your face with no remorse, making you release a loud whimper of pain. Jungkook growls and roughly holds your cheek, making you pout. Your eyes instantly tear up from the stinging pain, and Jungkook leans to your ear to whisper; "Say. Sorry." 
He releases his grip on your cheeks so you can answer properly, "I'm sorry...daddy."
"Good girl," he says simply before leaning in to give a tender, wet kiss on your lips. He smiles before you, eyes turning into little crescents with dark irises staring directly into yours, "Have you learned your lesson?" 
"Yes, I do." 
"Well, what've you learned, little girl?" he caresses your reddened cheek, "You promise to be good from now on and obey daddy?" 
"I promise." You reply in an almost inaudible whisper. Thankfully, it was enough for Jungkook. 
However, he wasn't done with you. He was yet to put his dick inside your pussy. Thanks to his strong build, Jungkook easily flips you around on your stomach, making you lay flat on the bed. He hovers on top of you with his dick in between your butt. 
Grabbing your wrists to secure them behind your back, he takes his shaft with his other hand and aligns his cock to your dripping pussy's entrance. 
"Want my cock?" Jungkook asks with a raspy voice, turned-on from the sight of your bruised butt with the combination of your sweet cunt, the folds all wet and ready for him. 
"Mhm, please put it in me..." you insist politely. 
Without hesitating, Jungkook pushes his tip inside your heat. "God, fuck," he chuckles, moaning right after, "you have such a tight pussy. So fucking tight and wet for my dick. Mhmm..."
Your pussy walls inevitably flutter around his girth once he had his whole tip in, and you can’t help yourself but twitch and squirm. Jungkook finds this endearing. 
“Daddy,” you mewl, “please put it all in me.” 
‘Well, if you said so.’ Jungkook thinks before shoving his whole length in. Ignoring how your back arched and the loud yelp you released, Jungkook thrusts his dick in and out of your pussy so good like he was a sex-god. 
His dick is covered in your juices as he rubs his precum all over your walls, getting you all nice and extra-lubricated for him. Your moans motivate him to continue, his primal instincts were ultimately getting the best of him. 
“F-Fuck,” he stutters, biting his bottom lip. It has been a while since he’s felt pussy wrapped around his cock, consequently, he ravishes on the sensation he missed so fucking much. “You’re being so good taking my dick, mhmm, you like it deep inside that young pussy?” he asks with a tint of mockery in his tone, “I bet you’re the type to prefer older men’s dick.” His thrusts were getting rougher and rougher, deeper, making you feel so full. His words were like honey, despite how lewd they are, the way how he spoke to you made you addicted. 
Jungkook holds your wrists tighter, nails digging down your skin. “I know your little boyfriends can’t satisfy you. That’s why you only want my cock, correct, little lady?” 
“M-Mhmm,” you respond as his balls clap against your ass. 
You’ve never felt more euphoric in your entire life. Only vulgar and lecherous sounds can be heard and you never want it to stop. His fervent, erotic moans sounded so hot made you milk his cock even harder. And it worked; Jungkook feels you tightening, clenching and unclenching. 
Pounding you like this from behind, all submissive for him was feeding onto his dark, domineering desires. Getting you all for himself was easier than he expected. 
“Do you want to cum?” he flips you around and starts fucking you in missionary, the new position makes you throw your head back as his cock hits your g-spot over and over again. 
You mouth the word ‘yes’, having no energy to form a coherent word. 
Jungkook chuckles, lifting both your legs up to his shoulders, creating more leeway for him to move deeper. 
“Ohh my god, just like that!” 
“Yeah?” He presses his body to yours, sweaty bodies pressed together. Without wiping away that smirk of his, he brings his mouth to yours to kiss you one again. 
You felt a sensory overload. With each hard, delicious thrust, you keep moaning into his mouth that you can’t even give him a proper kiss. “I-I’m gonna cum, daddy,” you sob, “I’m gonna cum!” 
“Hold it.” He snaps, “Hold your cum. Wait for my instructions.” 
His breathing was getting unsteady, you feel your room getting hotter and hotter with each second. All you can think of was his cock drilling inside your cunt. His long hair drapes from his face and the tips were slightly ticking your cheeks. The veins in his neck were protruding, making him look ten times hotter. 
His cock was making you dumb. You can almost forget that he was your stepdad – for he was just an older man you lusted for. 
“Be a good cockslut for me, m’kay baby? You’re already a good girl for letting daddy take control over you. I’m gonna let you cum as a reward.” 
“Mmnggg, please!” 
With his hand, he grabs your belt-clad throat and squeezes hard, making you see stars. Your toes curl up from this specific action. 
“Open your mouth.” He says in a hurry, teeth gritted together, “Open your slutty mouth.” 
After a second that you parted your lips, Jungkook spits in your mouth unexpectedly. This made you wild. You didn’t dare to close your mouth and swallow his already existing spit because you wanted more. “Ohh, I see what you want,” Jungkook snickers, “filthy little whore. Swallow and I’ll give you more.” 
Subsequently, he praises you with words that made you blush. He gives you another load of his spit, and you consume it immediately. If Jungkook was hard earlier, he was now rock-solid from your freaky behavior he didn’t know you comprised.
“Daddy, please! I can’t hold it in…” your body slightly quivers from the unforgiving impact of his cock, squeezing your walls so tightly to prevent yourself from spilling your cum onto him. 
Jungkook can’t wait any longer himself, “Cum. Cum on my cock, baby. Do it – oh shit – do it now.” 
Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll back to your head. You felt an overwhelming drive of euphoria rush through your system as you let yourself loose on his cock. “Jesus Christ, you’re so hot, little girl,” Jungkook groans, “There, there,” he pumps his cock faster to catch his orgasm.
"Daddy's gonna cum inside your mouth," Jungkook's cock twitches instantly from the thought, "Imma spill my seed deep inside your throat. You're not wasting any spills, little girl, you're lucky to even get a taste of my cum. For a slut like you don't deserve a single shit. A-Ahhh fuck, y-you’re lucky your so goddamn cute that I – mmngg – couldn’t resist giving you daddy’s cum."
Within a couple of deep, mind-blowing thrusts, he pulls out and crawls over to your face. Automatically opening your mouth to accept his cock, he pushes his length down and past your gag-reflex. “B-Baby, baby, fucking shit,” he grits his teeth, hands clawing at your hair, “Take my cum, c’mon, I know you can. I know you can take this sweet daddy cum. Mhmm that’s a good girl, that’s daddy’s good little girl.” 
Your throat contracts and gags as he fills you up, spilling his seed down your pipe. Tears started to fall down your woeful eyes, attempting to take everything that was given to you. 
You knew you were going to hell for this – for all of this. But at least you’ve enjoyed yourself and got what you’ve wanted. 
It was undeniably crazy how quick he got you into submission. Was it the way that he talks to you, the way he can technically read your mind and identify all of the things you desired, or was it just your daddy issues coming to play? 
Whatever it was, you didn’t regret a single bit of this to happen.
Who knows if this will occur to you again; if you’ll receive the same pleasure as this again? 
“Come ‘ere, let me wrap you in my arms,” Jungkook whispers after cleaning you up. Nodding, you scooch over to him to allow his warmth to resonate through your naked body. 
He is the perfect big spoon. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming a song to soothe you. 
Looking outside the window, you see that the sky is painted with variations of orange and red, signaling the arrival of dawn. Your eyes grow big as you examine the time on the wall clock; 4:00 A.M. You have three and a half hours left until classes start. 
Jungkook minds how your body tenses. He holds you a bit tighter and snuggles his face into the crook of your neck. Even though he can see those awful hickeys, he turns a blind eye to them. 
“Skip classes. Daddy won’t be mad,” he titters, “Although, your mom will be home anytime soon today.” 
You emit a gasp, “Wait, today?” 
“Yes,” he sneers, understanding the panic in your eyes, “Remember what I told you, Y/n. Hickeys 101, cover—”
“Cover it up.” 
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After you’ve slept through all your classes for today, you woke up in the afternoon exactly when your mother just arrived from her trip. 
Your whole body was sore. You can’t walk straight and your hair was in tangles. Before exiting your bedroom, you went to your bathroom, grabbed your makeup back, and covered your hickeys with concealer. 
‘Yeonjun… should I even see him again?’ 
The makeup did the bare minimum of covering your bruises. It wasn’t the best coverage ever, but it was enough. Parting your hair to the side to hide most of the skin of your neck, you finally went outside. 
“Y/n!” your mother exclaims, raising her head after she was scurrying deep inside her bag. “There you are. Are classes dismissed early?” 
Your step-dad chuckles behind her as he was carrying the rest of her luggage to the living room. Jungkook glances at you. 
“Yes.” You straight out lied. 
“I see. Oh! And did Jungkook treat you well?” 
You almost choked in your spit. 
“Was he good to you?” your mom raises her brows to Jungkook, “Or was Y/n a pain in the ass, babe?” 
Your face turns red in an instant. You wanted to laugh from the double-meaning of her words.  
“Y/n was a pain in the ass but don’t worry…” Jungkook smirks at you, his eyes hinting a sultry, teasing look, “She’s a good girl nevertheless.” 
The way Jungkook looks at you has to be a crime. There’s never a moment where you didn’t feel a single thing whenever he locks his handsome eyes with yours. It was an incredibly intense feeling – a feeling that you know you’ll crave.
“Mm. Okay. You look…” she scans your figure, head to toe. “tired. But anyway, come here and help me unpack. I have tons of stories and gossips to tell!” Your mom exclaims as she sits down on the couch. 
Before you can even approach her, Jungkook grabs your right arm and puts you in front of him. Afraid that he’ll do something you’ll regret, you pull away – but he shakes his head. 
Jungkook puts his index finger in front of his mouth, looking down at you while he whispers, “Shhh,” he leans forward and mouths the next words close to your ear, “Act like nothing happened, little girl.” 
3K notes · View notes
ditttiii · 10 months ago
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gold rush. || kth {m}
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⇢ summary: kim taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. all narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is everyone’s dream. after months of sharing an elevator with the man who makes your heart race until you can scarcely breathe when the chance finally comes; are you willing to risk it all for his touch? 
⇢ genre: porn with feelings, soft smut, angst, is unresolved tension and feelings a genre?
⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader
⇢ word count: 4.4k
⇢ rating: explicit / 18+
⇢ theme: strangers to lovers, s2l!au
⇢warning/s: public/elevator sex, exhibitionism, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (female receiving), lots of kissing, hickeys, unprotected sex? reader’s on the pill, swearing, tension and so much of it, unresolved-repressed feelings, taehyung is a certified dingus & reader is hopelessly smitten. 
⇢ a/n: betaed by @yeojaa​ who owns my heart and is the most precious bean ever. 
also have all my virtual, socially distanced cuddles @btsmosphere​ @papillonsgf​ @birbdae​ & @unoriginal-username15432​. if it weren’t for their support this wouldn’t be out today. my gratitude knows no bounds ♡ also big thanks to taylor for the fic title.
banner by @chillingkoo​ & moodboard by @today-we-will-survive​​ their art breathed life into this fic ♡ a belated birthday fic for one mr.kim taehyung & the beautiful @kerikaaria​.  this fic is also my submission for @thebtswritersclub​ january monthly project. 
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lastly, i had a lot of fun writing this so i hope you guys enjoy it x 2021 here v go ♡
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You wonder when the shame stopped making you hide behind a curtain of messy bed hair. When the smell of a man's cologne on you and a fruity fragrance on him started to feel normal; routine.
 The elevator closes with a 'ping', and your eyes track the numbers as they descend, the warmth of another human, the soft puffs of his breath, warming your shivering, scantily dressed body.
 "What happened to ‘she’s too old for me?’ " You grunt, slipping off your six inches of agony inducing footwear and pushing them to a corner.
 "What happened to you not being jealous?" You can feel his smirk, oozing of self-assured nonchalance and smugness that would seem ugly on anyone but fits like a well-tailored suit on him. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he leans back, hands resting on the metal railing while his tall, lean body slouches lazily, almost invitingly, and you have to force your eyes away from tracing the curves of his pecs. It's a tempting sight, but you aren't about to give him any more ammo to goad you with. As it is, he already knows too much, is far too keen. 
 "Of your sugar mama? I don't think so."
 Taehyung hums but doesn't refute the statement and the silence between you two stretches on. A burning ball of jealousy in your stomach continues to eat away at your peace, and with a clenched jaw, you allow your head to rest against the cool metal of the elevator and pretend that the proximity doesn't affect you. 
 It's always the same between you two, a constant game of tug and war, where one pulls too firmly, and then the other comes tumbling close until one of you comes back to your senses and then it's back to square one. Back to bickering and recounting the previous night’s escapades of half-truths and lies told from kiss-swollen lips and hooded gazes as you try your best to rile the other one up.
 It's stupid. You are in your twenties and this isn't like you. The lying, the pretence that you are still seeing your ex-boyfriend and biting and sucking your own lip until it swells; until you look properly ravished; none of this is you.
 You should have known the day he first stumbled into the elevator with a half-buttoned shirt and bite marks painted over the pale skin of his neck, a satisfied smirk curled on his dark pink lips, that he wasn't good for you. But no, like the absolute fool that you are, you fell for him. Fell knowing full well he wasn't yours to have, that back then you weren't his to have.
 The elevator comes to a stop with a shudder. Your eyes, closed sometime during the descent, snap open and your feet pause when the sight of the closed doors grace you.
 "You stopped the elevator." It's not a question, not when his hand is still hovering over the stop button, head tilted as his eyes stay trained on you.
 "I did." He admits to a question you never asked.
 Biting back a hiss at his insistence on being difficult, you twist on your heels, lips pulled into a smile whose edges sting like shards of a broken glass and parry, "And why did you do that, pray tell?"
 He doesn't answer, just looks at you with that half-lidded gaze and his silence only infuriates you more, makes the back of your neck feel heated as an angry flush rises from your chest all the way up to your cheeks and with a few angry stomps you’re in Taehyung's space, barely a few inches left between you two.
 "God!" You start, and the anger, the jealousy, the ugly ball of insecurity and lust and something you haven't quite found a name for yet all coagulate and rise up your throat, burning your heart in their wake until you are hurting and seething. “I don’t get you, nor do I want to anymore!" The words tumble out, one after another and half thought out but your chest still burns and the ugly ball still feels scorching hot in your throat and you can't bring yourself to stop, to shut up and think. "Stop doing this. Stop flirting with me and stop looking at me with those hooded eyes of yours and for the love of god, do you really need to lick your lip that often? Why don't you carry a lip balm if your lips are that dry, huh?"
 The cross of your eyes is almost painful, but you have started and fuelled by anger and unreciprocated feelings there’s no stopping your steam. "And now this! Stopping the elevator! What the hell is this supposed to mean?" His lips part as if to answer but without waiting for his response, you plow on, "What! Do you actually have an answer? Really? Let's face it; you think I’m some sort of challenge that needs to be conquered. Another notch on your bedpost. You and your stupid smirks and half-lidded eyes and that damn mole on your nose and god, can you just not—"
 The soft pad of his finger on your lips pauses your rant, leaves them parted and your heart hammering while unsaid words clutter the hollow spaces in your throat, tighten around your vocal cords like a noose until they become their own nemesis. 
 "I broke up with her last night," Taehyung says, and from where you are standing so close to him, his breath on your neck, cheeks, lips is too enchanting, too much like something you had hoped and begged and prayed for far too long now. Breathing out harshly you blink yourself back to reality because you must be hearing him wrong. 
  "Huh?"
 His hand slowly comes up to hold your chin, thumb running over your lower lip with a feather-like touch, "I broke up with her last night, went home and came back early because I didn't want to miss you." He says, and your chest feels tight, palms numb and it's only when his hand gently settles over the nape of your neck and you inhale painfully that you realise that you had stopped breathing.
 "Why?" You rasp out. 
  Don't hope. This means nothing. Do not hope. 
 Something twists in your belly, a thread tightens around your heart, and you know, despite it all, that you are hoping. 
 "Why do you think?" He asks instead, and you stifle the sudden desire to bash his head into a wall. 
 "Don't play games with me." 
 A sigh, his breath dancing on your lips and you barely suppress the tingles that burn down your spine, "I'm not. I don't want to, not anymore." The hand resting around your neck curls, fingers caressing the soft skin behind your ear.
 "What do you want then?" Your words are quiet, hope and longing laced into every syllable that you desperately hope to hide but fail. 
 Your heart hammers into your ribs with so much force you are half afraid it will leave them cracked; splintered just like your love for the man who is touching you, holding your entire heart in the palm of his hands while you wait for it to be crushed. Because it will, it's inevitable. Kim Taehyung is a walking heartbreak waiting to happen. All narrow eyes and long nose and devilish smirks, he is too good. Too good for the woman he was with and certainly too good for you. You would be happy if you looked half as good on your wedding day as he regularly does because he is that gorgeous. And unreal, and pretty and it hurts. 
 It hurts because you can never have him and any second now he will push you away and ridicule you for getting flustered so easily and he will never understand, and god it cuts. It tears at you because despite knowing better, you long for him, his touch, his warmth.
 Maybe even his love. But that is one hope you refuse to acknowledge out loud. 
 Your breaths mingle from where you two are standing so close, and part of you aches to reach out, to pull him closer and wrap yourself around him until you can sync the beat of your heart to his, to nestle your face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in, drown in the scent of that spicy cologne that you associate with him and nobody else. Because it's tempting, oh so inviting and he is so so close.
 You could touch his chest, caress the skin peeking from in between the dip of his low neck shirt and it would be easy, he would let you, you know that too but what about after? How do you come back from holding someone your soul is in love with and then pretend that being with them for one night was enough? How does your hope keep living on in the name of that fragment of love? His arms your shelter for one night and then you are back to being strangers, sharing elevators and bumping into each other at the grocery store, pretending all the while that you do not yearn to visit that one night you spent together whenever your head hits the pillow? 
 "I..." Taehyung struggles, chews the words before his lips form them because this is his last chance and if he loses you now, it's over; he knows that too. The pair of you are done playing cat and mouse. 
 "I know my words don't hold a whole lot of value. I could promise you things, but you won't believe me and that's fair. I get it." He admits, another hand coming up until your face is cradled in his open palms, fingers slipping behind the edges of your ears and you will yourself to not drop your gaze, to look into his eyes and search for...love? Honesty? You wish you could say you know what it is that you are hunting for, but held so close all you can think about is the chestnut brown of his eyes, the black that rims them, the high arched brows and the thin, smooth lips and that mole; that mole that you can only see when you are pressed close, a hair's breadth of space between you two. 
 "But...?" You ask, pray, and yet again, against your better judgement hope.
 "But I love you." He confesses, voice forever rich and deep and you feel the hum of his baritone from where your chest is still pulled tight to his. "My love for you is unlike any I have ever known, and it scared me; it still scares me because I don't know. I don't know what I will do if I ever lose you. I care too much, I—" His grip on you tightens and instinctively your hands snake around his waist, clenching the soft cotton of his shirt, nails biting into your skin as his words thread your hopelessly lovesick heart back together; piece by piece.
 "I love you too much." Taehyung whispers and the ice around your heart thaws, his raw confession lighting a fire in your nerves until you are left buzzing from the high of his admission. "Trust me. Just this once. Please." He is vulnerable in his plea, and for the first time you wonder if you had characterised him wrong. Boxed and stored him like a gift on a shelf without bothering to look underneath the paper wrapping.
 Taehyung doesn't have to beg, he doesn't have to try and persuade anyone, and for all the gibes you threw his way, all the daggered words about him dating only for money, you didn't truly believe any of them. Sure, the woman he had been with for the last few months was older (a voice in your head whispers wiser), but that wasn't because she was, as you would often insist, his 'sugar mama', but instead because their interests aligned. Kim Taehyung is a man of taste, whether it be his fondness for a violin's trill, fascination with modern art, or his love for jazz music. He is an enigma and with no small amount of embarrassment you think back to all the times you have bought a book after he made a passing comment on it, searched the pages and the characters to find some semblance of him.
 Maybe you are pathetic, perhaps you are far too infatuated with this man for it to be healthy. Just maybe...
 "No," Taehyung commands, his voice so determined you’re snapped back to the present, head thrown out of the haze your wandering thoughts had created.
 Seeing your obscure expression and strayed eyes (look away because you can't acknowledge how much he matters), he pushes, one hand sliding down to grip your chin and urge you to look him in the eye. "Don't." 
 Maybe he sees something in your eyes, spots your hidden insecurities, reads you like an open book and dog-ears the pages that hold your weakness. 
 "Don't what?" You deflect, gaze drifting away again as you pretend to not know what he means but secretly long for him to keep pushing, to keep trying—your denial’s a facade to hide all your pleas. 
 "Don't do this to me. To us."  
 "You'll hurt me." You protest, a half-hearted attempt at trying to protect your already doomed heart even as your fingers clench tighter, pull him closer.
 "No, I won't." He speaks with certainty that you don't wholly believe but fuelled by far too much love and longing, you don't protest any further and instead toe closer, rise higher, and breathe in the shaky exhale he lets out when your lips skim the sharp curve of his jaw. 
 "I've wanted this for so long." Unadulterated desire courses through your veins at his admission. Even if Taehyung is lying, even if he leaves you stranded after today, you'll live. You'll live on the high of this moment, the memory of his skin under your touch, the crisp of the cotton draped over his lean torso. 
 It's easier to let go and surrender yourself, easier to lay yourself bare because you have already come too far and there is no protecting yourself anymore—your heart is now his to do with.
 Your hands twine around his waist, slide over the vast expanse of his back like he is yours; as though if you try hard enough, you'll leave an imprint, a sign that he belongs to you. Mark him for the rest of eternity and brand him with your name on his heart. 
 Kissing him is easy, the slight ache of staying on your tippy-toes going by unregistered as you get lost in the sensation of his lips, his sighs on your chin, the tickle of his lashes against the high curve of your cheek. 
 The cradle of his palms around your face is gentle, almost careful, as though you are a porcelain doll and he is afraid one harsh move will leave you splintered. Chest tight, you push down the last remaining traces of hesitation clinging inside your throat and twist to catch his lips instead, licking a long strip from the soft cleft of his chin over to his parted lips, dip into the hollow of his mouth and slide over the soft flesh on the inside before you catch his upper lip in between yours and suck.
 His responding groan has you clenching your thighs and you break the kiss, breathing in to replenish the oxygen that doesn't seem as important when his lips are on yours. When your gaze catches his, for once you don't look away, don't force yourself to stop from swimming in the beautiful, clear pool of his eyes.
 "I love you too." Your admission is quiet, more a careful whisper than anything else, as though any louder and you'll break this spell and things will go back to the way they were. He will come to his senses and realise he doesn't love you after all and then you'll go back to being a pining, lovesick fool, only this time with a broken heart and no hope to cling to.
 His eyes grow soft—gentle in the curve of two crescent moons, and you smile your first real smile, the edges twitching and pulling into a gentle grin before you can bite it down and the answering smile that Taehyung rewards you with has your heart squeezing almost painfully inside your chest.
 "Yeah?" He asks as though he already knows the answer but just wants to hear you say it again, profess your love for him again and you do. You say it again and again, press your lips over every inch of his face and emboss the words onto the smooth, unblemished skin.
 Taking in a shuddering breath, you answer from around the suspended ball of disbelief and love in your throat. "Yeah." 
 When the clothes start coming off it’s a gentle, slow affair, the spaces in between filled with tender touches curious to explore the skin that they had desired for so long and open-mouthed kisses pressing promises of forever and happily ever after onto the naked expanse, leaving goosebumps in their wake.  
 Legs twined around his waist like ivy, you arch off the floor. A tug of your hand and his shirt slips low, and then your mouth is pressing warm, wet, kisses, tongue slipping out and desperately tasting his skin, his sweat— him. You lean back and then he's on you, low, low, low until his lips are close enough to skim the edges of your panties and you buckle, arch and push without meaning to as you ache for relief only he can provide. 
 "You are beautiful. So so beautiful. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen." 
 His words are rough, less speech and more growl as he pushes his head closer to your soaking heat and inhales. "Fuck." 
 Breathes turning to hitches, words into gasps, you can scarcely keep your eyes open when he runs a long, slim finger through your folds and circles your wet opening before your walls are pulsing around him, sucking and pulling the finger in as deep as it will go. One and two then three, your cunt can't have enough of his fingers, his heat and him and oh— 
 His lips are velvet against your clit, your body a molten mass of gold moulding itself around his fingers, your sanity and restraint slipping and dripping down onto the carpeted floor from in between the spaces. With the last left strength, you prop yourself onto your elbows and the sight of Taehyung's mouth on your sex is almost enough to send you slipping back down again. His tongue laves across your folds with the desperation of a man parched, caressing every fold, greedily licking away your dripping arousal and moaning out obscenities too vulgar for how early the day is. 
 When you come, it's with a cry that sounds too animalistic to be yours. One that comes from your chest and leaves your back arched like the ends of a boomerang. "Good?" He asks with glistening lips, and you wanna scream, hysterical in your pitch— good? Is there anything better that exists in this world than his lips on you making you come? Again and again, until you can no longer stand the sensitivity? 
 But instead of screaming, or shaking him by his shoulders until it gets through his head, you reply with a spent nod and let your elbows slip. This is what being eaten out by Kim Taehyung feels like. The pleasure coursing through your veins is something far more potent than any you have ever felt before. The blood in your veins thrumming, almost sizzling under the thin layer of your skin. 
 He presses his forehead to yours, rests to catch his breath and with every shuddery inhale you breathe your arousal in, a swipe of your tongue across his glistening lips, and then you can taste it too. It tastes of nothing and yet everything. Coming from his lips, it tastes of what your dreams are built from, like liquified recklessness and yearning and above all —Taehyung. 
 It tastes of him and his smirks and all the kisses you couldn't have and all the kisses you now hope for. 
 His fingers are gentle when they tuck your hair, eyes bright behind the curtain of messy, ink-black strands, "There's a law somewhere that says when you love someone with all your heart, you are unavoidably loved by them as well. Amor ch'a null'amato amar perdona." 
 Your eyes search his, frantically rove all over his face, search the lines under his eyes, pause at the small mole on his nose, and then stop at the sight of the one on his lower lip, the one that your eyes would always drift to every time he'd smirk or grin in the past. Now he's smiling, lips stretched into a soft boxy curve, the mole evident against the edge and you raise a trembling hand, run your thumb across it. Cup his face with both your hands until your vision blurs and then your lips are on his. Locking and licking and your mouth is a leaking faucet of I love you's, hands working to the back of his head and getting lost in those perfectly long, wavy strands. 
 You hope this is the real thing when you wildly take off your dress, rip off his shirt unmindful of the last few buttons that clatter to the floor and undress until the both of you are as bare as you were the day you were born.
 The steel railing is startlingly cold against your rear but before you can wince Taehyung's large hands are on your waist, pulling you closer until all that's on your mind is the feel of him, hard and hot against your dripping heat. His mouth is on your breast, lips sucking marks into the flesh and tying you to him, leaving traces of his presence behind until you can no longer differentiate the ache in your heart from the burn in your belly. 
 Somehow through the haze of want and compulsive need, you collect yourself enough to tell him you're on the pill when he remembers the lack of protection in his wallet, and then he's inside you. The thrust inside is fluid, and you are moaning, keening at your wetness, at how long he is, at how unbearably, entirely full you are. 
 Your name falls from his lips like a prayer, like the last words of a man dying an untimely death, desperate and hurried and like if he takes a second too long he might never get the chance again. The scratch of your nails against his back must hurt, the grip of your heels around his sides must be painful, and still you can't bring yourself to let up; to let go. 
 The air inside becomes humid, reeks of sex and sweat and everything that shouldn't seem so right, and yet does. 
 You come first, hit your peak and crash through it like a ship in a torrential sea, hot and volatile and like something vital that you'll retain even in the afterlife. Taehyung–sweet, sweet Taehyung – helps you ride it out, makes your body sing with the honed practice of a pianist who has spent more decades playing than he can recall. His tongue is on your neck, stroking that one sensitive spot in the hollow of your clavicle while his hand brushes your clit, builds the pleasure and lets it drift, unhurried and soft until you are crying from the overwhelming rightness of it. 
 With a shudder, you finally push his hand away from your quivering heat and bring it to your lips, kiss the bony knuckles and let it rest on your thigh from where he wraps it tight around your waist and drives to chase his own high. 
 Sated you watch Taehyung, catalogue all the features that you had never seen before but up close can. Just in case—just. File them all in a part of your heart where only he resides, a piece you will always come back to, regardless of if the man in your arms chooses to stay or not. You will be selfish with these memories, hoard and treasure them in secrecy until the day you can look back upon them with nothing more than nostalgic fondness. 
 The appearance of a deep furrow on his forehead, between those long arched brows and the breaking rhythm of his thrusts, alerts you to how close he is and you clench. Clench with all the love and devotion you nurture in your heart and hope that somehow it will be enough. If not forever, then at least until you can have your fill, until you can love him for a life's worth and live off on those memories. Live on them like a late mother's half-finished perfume bottle that you take out and sniff on your sorriest days, a push strong enough to keep you going. 
 One more day, then one more and then just one more until you can finally meet him in the afterlife, old and having done all that you had been sent to do. Except for love. You doubt you can ever love like this again. 
 Kissing him after feels like the best kind of heartbreak because you know, somewhere deep in your gut where you house your intuition and insecurities, you know this won't last. 
 Yet you wouldn't take back anything. Your lips form words on Taehyung's shoulder 'i love you so much. i always will', and you tighten your arms around his waist. Anchor him to the present and pray that the defence will be strong enough to keep him with you for a little while more. 
 Just a little.
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a/n: the end is up to your interpretation, you are free to imagine whatever end you’d have liked to see. If you enjoyed reading this please let me know through comments, reblogs, tags or asks. the feedback makes me insanely happy and i love hearing from you guys ♡
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softykooky · a year ago
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the habits of a broken heart.
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☾ genre : soulmates au, unrequited love, art student!JK, english student!Y/N, angst, fluff, subtle enemies to lovers
☾ pairing : jeon jungkook x reader
☾ summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. 
alternatively,
“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”
☾ word count: 26.3k (my biggest one yet!)
☾ author’s note: this took forever oh my gosh! i really hope you like it! it’s my first time writing such a big single piece, and trying a different style. thank you so much for your support, always! please let me know what you think ♡
The first time he had his heart broken, Jeon Jungkook had been 13 years old. He was fresh out of middle school and so ready to face his freshman year with an impressionable mind and plenty of voice cracks to earn him months worth of teasing. You see, at the age of 13, Jungkook wasn’t something to swoon over. He had yet to grow into his ears and Dr. Park assured him that his braces would be off as soon as she could get them. He was a little lanky and a bit too reticent to be considered social. So when a girl in his grade comes up to him, nervous and stuttering, and asks him to go to the heavily romanticized homecoming dance, Jungkook has already come to the conclusion that she might be his soulmate, even if he was far too young to get his mark yet. 
Her name was Mina, and Jungkook is confronted with this memory every time he visits home and his mother makes the family flip through the photo albums dating back to his high school years. He grimaces every time he sees the picture of them together. Him in a pink button-up to match her offensively ugly ruffled taffeta dress. 
Mina broke up with him three months after that picture was taken, through one of her friends no less and in front of his entire gym class. Jungkook couldn’t remember how long he cried for while he felt the pain from his first heartbreak would never go away, regardless of how much time passes. He held onto his mother and sobbed out the agony and humiliation of Mina not wanting to be his girlfriend anymore, and how he had lost his soulmate before he even knew it was her. His mother assured him that without the mark, there was no way to be sure and that there was hope. But back then, all Jungkook could think of was ways to avoid Mina the next day, especially when they sat next to each other in 3rd period biology.  
At 13 years old, Jungkook thought he would never find love again. 
He is 18 when he stands alongside his parents in a pale examination room and awaits his destiny. He’s leaving for college the next day, yet the only thing that’s making him nervous is the mark that will inevitably appear on his wrist in the next few minutes. The same one he would find on his soulmate’s, and Jungkook wonders if there is the possibility of scaring everyone away when the first thing he’ll ask on a date is: can I please see your wrist? 
To say the least, Jungkook is petrified. Because that mark on his wrist is going to serve as a constant reminder of his missing piece, and Jungkook knows he’ll always feel lacking until he finds them. It’s a crescent moon. Small and black and nestled comfortably on his skin. He knows many times the marks don’t have any correlation with the couples, but Jungkook wonders if you are an astrologist. Or an astronaut. Or just had a weird affinity for the moon. He smiles when they congratulate him and can’t stop himself from thinking that he might be in love with you already. Wherever you are. When he leaves for university, he feels less lonely when there is a crescent moon to accompany him. 
Contrary to the beliefs of his 13-year old self, Jungkook does fall in love again. Hard. This time, it was a girl with brown hair and big eyes and a smile so pretty he could see it from across a crowded room. She was a grade below him; a frazzled college freshman with no clue to where her lecture hall was, and he: a sophomore who had a compulsion of changing his major every other month. When he met her, it had been chemical engineering and three weeks before that was film composition. Her name was Yoojung, 18 years old while he was 19.
 Her soulmate mark is a single star, and even though he knows she is not his soulmate, he can’t help but to think how perfectly their marks complement each other. How they would make a perfect night sky. 
They had met at a frat party, no less, and the combination of cheap booze and bad hiphop music had made her look so incredibly gorgeous under the dim lighting. They had their first kiss in a random person’s living room, highly intoxicated and much too irresponsible and Jungkook had barely even remembered it in the morning until she showed up at his doorstep and invited herself in. Yet it wasn’t too long before he made a perfect space for Yoojung in his life.
 Each day after his physics lecture, he’d go to her dorm and they’d chat over breakfast until she had economics at 10 o’ clock. After she was done, he’d insist that they go get a greasy hamburger at the joint his friends took him to when they got high and, she’d end up dragging them both to the health food restaurant that prided themselves on only using organic. Leave it to Jungkook to find himself a vegan girlfriend. 
Sometimes though, when he looks at Yoojung, his mind drifts to his actual soulmate and a little flower named guilt blooms in his chest. But he is so young and his other half could be anywhere in the world, so Jungkook thinks there is no harm in allowing himself to indulge in a little affection. These days, it wasn’t completely abnormal for soulmates to part ways, and when Yoojung is in his arms, Jungkook likes to think that his soulmate would understand. They would want him to be happy. In the middle of synchronizing their busy student schedules and sneaking in quick kisses through cramming for finals, he had found it unnervingly easy to fall in love with her. 
Deeply and blindly in love. 
Yoojung brought him home to her family on fall breaks and the occasional winter vacation and Jungkook had melded perfectly into their dynamic. The son I never had, her father would tell him over the dinner table while her mother constantly made sure his plate was piled high. Her little sister was visibly in love with him, and would ask Yoojung where he was every time she came home from university, yet avoiding him at all costs when he was there. 
Jungkook’s own family, however, was a different story. To put it delicately, they had liked it more when he came home by himself and left her at school. It had put a strain on their relationship sure, but at the end of the day, Jungkook loved her. A simple love. 
Every day he remembers that their marks do not match. But if this is love and he feels like he is on cloud 9 with every moment they are together, Jungkook begins to doubt if the universe’s will is truly divine and successful. Maybe Yoojung was his soulmate and it did not matter what was on their wrists. 
He loved her intensely, and she did him. She was the first thing on his mind when he woke up and manifested in his dreams when he slept at night. To Jungkook, Yoojung could do no wrong. Like some sort of divine being or angel that the heavens sent just for him, and he found himself thinking maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life beside her. 
But he would come to learn that the higher the climb...the harder the fall. 
Jungkook and Yoojung were together for the better part of 4 years before she cheated on him with a guy that she’d supposedly met a couple weeks ago. When Jungkook screams at her asking why she had been disloyal, Yoojung shows him her wrist. Her single inked star. 
“I found my soulmate, Jungkook. And I love you so much, you know I do. I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”
The rest of her words fade into white noise and all Jungkook can do is look at her and commit every detail to memory as he feels her fade farther away. Her teary and remorseful brown eyes. Her plush lips. The fan of her eyelashes and the mole on the side of her temple. He’ll never get to see her like this again. 
“I was ready to be with you, soulmate or not. I know it’s not fair but I wanted the same from you”, he whispers, falling down on the couch and burying his face in his hands. 
“Soulmates be damned, the universe was wrong. I was so hideously in love with you. How could you not at least tell me when you met him?” Jungkook feels his heart collapsing in on itself with every word of resignation. Of burgeoning acceptance. Yoojung can only mirror his desolate expression and stares down at the star on her skin.
 Jungkook wishes it were a moon. 
“Just go, Yoojung.” 
It would have hurt less if it was only a one night stand with a stranger she did not know the name of. He was in love and spineless enough to move past a one night stand. However, Yoojung had found her soulmate and fallen in love with him. Jungkook had merely acted as a placeholder for the real deal to come along and sweep her off her feet. 
This time he doesn’t cry. Just stares out the window of his living room and wonders what it would be like to disappear altogether. When the door is slammed shut, and he is left to nurse his aching soul, Jungkook apologizes in advance to the person that shares the same mark on their wrist as him. He no longer believes that soulmates exist. 
When Jungkook looks back at his 13 year old self with the innocent construct of what heartbreak feels like, he wants to laugh and maybe slap that stupid boy upside the head. Yoojung had destroyed him. Destroyed the innocent and starry-eyed person that he’s tried so hard to preserve. Destroyed his vulnerability and bright outlook on life and in their place, cultivated walls of rock and steel meant to keep everyone out and him safely tucked inside. In her wake, Yoojung left behind a shell of a man who pushed his emotions so deep he became numb and forgot what it was like to feel. 
So Jungkook does what he always does to push away the hurt. He changes his major; to art history this time. He stacks up bracelets on his wrist to forget the mark of a moon. He scrapes up his rainy day money and treats himself to the most expensive pair of Saint Laurent boots he’s ever worn. He tests the limits of the human liver, and takes advantage of the biceps and jawline he’s acquired since high school to establish a reputation. 
To his friends, Jungkook remained raucous and always down to order infinite rounds of shots until he couldn’t see straight. To those that looked even closer, Jungkook was so completely shattered he didn’t even feel it anymore. 
The second time he had his heart broken, Jungkook was 23. He promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen again. 
“For the last time, Jimin, I’m not going to give you a blowjob so you can pay for my student loans.”
You don’t know how many times you’ve had this conversation with your roommate. Most of the time, it was convenient to have a roommate whose parents were loaded and sent him monthly installments that looked more like small loans than allowances. You knew he just wanted to help. Heck, he probably would be willing to pay them off for you without the promiscuous favor, but you had made it clear to Jimin that you wouldn’t be riding off of his charity. 
“Ugh, Y/N you’re really no fun”, he sighs, falling backwards onto your twin-sized bed and feigning devastation. You reward his melodrama with a giggle, ruffling your hands through his fried hair. Jimin had a knack for changing his hair color as quickly as his mood. 
You look at the bill that’s staring back at you from your computer screen, and it feels like it’s just reached out and punched you in the face. “Hey do you think it’s a common mistake for bank tellers to add a few too many zeroes?” 
“Y/N.” 
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m rationalizing as a self-defense mechanism.” Sometimes it was annoying that your roommate had a degree in psychology. Then again, Jimin was making more money than you and your degree in English. 
You sigh deeply and look up at the ceiling in attempts to quell your tears of frustration. And also because it is a plea to whoever is up there controlling your destiny: please I’m begging you. Melt my debt away. 
You and Jimin sit in comfortable silence and he plays with the hem of your worn comforter while you scroll through the emails you have been ignoring in your inbox. You want to smash your head in at all the deadlines. Times like these, there is one thing that brings you comfort and always has since you turned 18. 
The quaint little crescent moon that sits right atop your radius. 
You had a habit of pressing your thumb against it and feeling your pulse against the mark, stupidly wondering if your soulmate’s heartbeat has synched up with your own. If he was out there somewhere, touching his mark and wondering the same about you. He was taking his sweet time, that’s for sure. Jimin sees your nervous tic and sighs again.
“You’re so hopelessly romantic it makes me want to barf, Y/N.” You scowl at his words and chuck a pillow at his unsuspecting face. 
“I don’t understand you, Jimin. Your soulmate is out there and you’re not the slightest bit curious? You don’t want to do anything extra to find them?” Jimin looks at you with a knowing smile.
“That’s exactly it, though. I know they’re my soulmate and I’ll find them when the time is right. So why worry about it? It’s better not to force anything.” His statement is followed up with a grin and his fingers reach out to pinch your cheeks. This was the dynamic of your friendship. He is easy-going and flows like a careless river. You’ve read one too many books to not vie and daydream for the moment you lock eyes with your soulmate. 
Your mom always said that you’ll know just from a look. It’s like getting hit over the head with a ray of sun, she said. Like suddenly their eyes are the only eyes you ever want to look into again. Since then, you’ve dreamt for the day you find someone with that same moon on their wrist. For now though, you had more immediate concerns more along the lines of crippling debt. 
“What do I do, Jimin? Should I be a stripper?” He laughs and the thought makes you groan. You couldn’t even walk in heels, much less try to dance or look like you didn’t have two left feet. Stripper life just wasn’t for you. 
“Hm...I could call in a few favors for you at the office. Get you an internship or secretary position.” 
“Maybe. Too much nepotism. Your father owns the office you work at”, you remind him, and his eyebrows crease further in thought. God, maybe you do have to be a stripper.
“Wait!” Jimin yelps so suddenly you almost fling the computer off your lap. 
“I think I know someone. He’s been looking for a model for his art portfolio or something, and he said he’s willing to pay.” Jimin reaches for his phone and his thumbs type up a storm while you watch from the sideline. 
“I think he mentioned it’s about a month-long project. You’d just have to be on call whenever a stroke of genius arrives.” 
“That sounds great! I’m an amazing model!” you crow, to which Jimin giggles again.
“The several candids I have in my camera roll tell a different story, Y/N.” Naturally, he receives another pillow to the face. But you follow up with a cheery kiss to his cheek as you rejoice in the new opportunity for cash flow by a celebratory dance, which looks more like a wiggle when you remain seated on your bed. 
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, you chirped, “I owe you one.”
“Hey...I know how you can repay me.”
 When you look towards him, his eyebrows are raised inquisitively and there’s a devilish smirk on his lips.
Jimin gets a third pillow to his face that day. 
Jungkook’s favorite type of arguments to get into is whether Neo-classicism or post-impressionism had the most impact on European art and architecture. Call him a snob, but he loves to prattle on about Degas and Caillebotte until his opponent tires or concedes out of pure exhaustion. Jungkook regards it as a battle strategy: bore your enemy so that they stop fighting. 
He’s in the middle of a heated debate with his classmate from graduate school when he receives a phone call from Park Jimin. Now, Jungkook has no idea how or when Jimin became an installment in his life, or how he’s roped his way into his inner circle. He just remembers waking up one day with a killer hangover and finding that there was a pink-haired stranger lying on his floor. When he tried to shoo him out, the stranger shoved a wad of money in his shirt pocket, muttering “just five more minutes”, and Jungkook was in no position to deny easy cash. Jungkook now considers Jimin one of his close friends. 
“What’s up, Jiminie?” He laughs into the microphone. 
“I told you not to call me that, you brat. I’m older than you.” 
“I’m taller than you.”
“My dick is bigger.”
“I-okay fine you got me there.” He hears Jimin wheeze over the line as he tries to rein himself in to say what he needs to say. 
“In all seriousness, though. I have a proposition for you.” Jimin lilts in a mischievous tone, which makes Jungkook nervous enough to get up from the café table he had been sitting at with his friend and careen to a quieter corner. 
“Shoot.”
“Okay, so you know how you were telling me about your portfolio for the gallery. The one you have to submit by the end of the season? How you needed a model on call 24/7 in case inspiration struck?” 
Jungkook wants him to spit it out because he has been searching high mountains and low valleys for someone that would be willing to be his muse for a month or two. Constantly at his beck and call so he can finish this damn portfolio and get his name out there in the art world. Maybe start debating post-impressionism with the cream of the crop. 
“I think I’ve found someone to do that for you.” Jungkook exhales in relief at his words.
“She’s my roommate and she’s super low on cash and unemployed with a bachelor’s in English literature, so she’s got time to spare.” Perfect. That way, Jungkook can call her whenever he needs to.
“That’s amazing, Jiminie. Can she meet me at the art building tomorrow at noon? We can start right away.” Jungkook breathes through the phone, a small weight coming off his shoulders now that another thing had been accomplished. One less thing he had to worry about on the journey to his goal. Jimin confirms the plans and they exchange pleasantries before Jungkook hangs up as the man on the other line starts screaming about his burning lunch on the stove. 
Jungkook catches sight of the mark on his wrist when he looks down, and quickly rearranges his bracelets so that it is once again covered to his eyes. Out of sight and out of mind. 
The gallery portfolio had been a thorn in his side. It had been months in the making and if he allows himself to reminisce, Jungkook remembers the nights he and Yoojung stayed up until dawn and talked about his blossoming interest in art. How he wanted a space of his own to display his works. Back then, she listened to him with stars in her eyes and basked in the afterglow of post-coital cuddling, promising that she would help him achieve it. 
His heart sinks at the memory of the imprint of her tresses of hair spilling on his bedspread. He burned those sheets the second she left. 
Jungkook represses his intrusive thoughts about Yoojung and wills her to get out of his head. He forces it down until it feels like he’s just dumped ice water over his heart and vomited out any semblance of emotion. He makes his way back to the cafe table with a sly smile that hides the internal ache he’s promised himself to never let anyone suspect of. 
“So what were you saying about Renoir’s Moulin de la Galette?”
The art building is situated besides a library, with a bakery flanking its left. Two years spent at the university, and you’ve never once stepped foot there. Maybe it was the daunting abstract sculpture on the front lawn or the prejudices you held against annoying art snobs on their high horses, but you often found yourself subconsciously avoiding the space in intimidation. 
“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to do this so you can pay off your loans”, you whisper under your breath, words meant for your ears and no one else’s. “And if he asks you to pose nude, you run the opposite direction.” 
It was easy to get lost in the building. For art students that know how to draw, they really took advantage of abstractionism to make the most confusing map you had ever seen in your life. Luckily, with some direction from the vapid front desk secretary and some intuition, you were able to to find room 62B. You don’t think you’ll be able to forget the number 62B if you tried, Jimin had screamed it to you so many times as you left the apartment. 
The door soundlessly opens with a nudge of your hand and you stick your head inside.
“You know when Jimin told me he found me a model, he didn’t mention her lack of punctuality.” His voice is calm and subdued with no lingering annoyance, even if his words are uncourteous. You whip around to him and the first sight you see of Jeon Jungkook is merely a tuft of brown hair behind a vast canvas. And some expensive looking leather boots that anchor his feet to the ground. 
You clear your throat and approach with an outstretched hand and the shiniest smile you can muster. 
“I’m Y/N. Jimin’s roommate. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You can call me Jungkook.”
It is when he steps out from behind the canvas that you finally understand what your mother meant when she said meeting your soulmate feels like getting hit over the head with a ray of sunshine. You can’t describe it any other way, but that’s exactly what it feels like. Like the air becomes so sweet in your lungs it turns to viscous honey. Like suddenly the person standing in front of you is Valentine, encapsulated. 
You know he feels it too, yet you don’t know why he forces himself to remain blasé, and if you hadn’t seen his widened eyes and heard the gasp from his lips you would have never suspected anything at all. Stranger courtesy is abandoned and you forcefully grab his wrist, turning it over to find his mark while pulling up your sleeve to reveal your own. 
A little black crescent moon.
Right on the pulse point.
Just like your’s. 
When you finally muster up the nerve to look into his eyes again, you wonder if it is healthy for the human heart to beat so fast and so thunderously it feels ready to jump out of your chest. Jungkook, however, still wears that same expression on his face. Flat and cold, not even a glimmer in his eyes. He stares at you disinterested and wrenches his wrist from your grasp. 
“Wait, Jungkook...aren’t you….”, you sputter through a desperate smile, “aren’t you happy?” He stays silent and trains his attention on the canvas in front of him, but you can see the conflict that swirls in his iris. 
“I’ve been looking for you for so long! And I’ve finally found you. In the art building no less, just my luck that-”
“Y/N, I don’t know what you expect from me but I’m not looking for anything right now.” 
There were no objectively ugly words. But you think the ones that have just spewed from Jungkook’s lips come pretty close. They stoke a fire in your chest.
“What do you mean? We’re soulmates”, you faltered, sinking deeper into confusion as you stare at the unaffected man in front of you, whose only concern is the conglomerate of paint on his palette. 
Jungkook sighs monotonously. Almost as if he had better things to do than be here.
“It’s only a mark on your wrist. And we just happen to have the same one. Amazing that you still think somehow one single person was made entirely just for you.” His words are bored and he doesn’t even have the decency to look you in the eye when he speaks. You think you might want to punch him if you weren’t so speechless.
“Look”, he sighs as if you were inconveniencing him, “I’m not going to sugarcoat it and tell you that I’m the one you’ve been looking for this whole time. We have the same mark, but...I’m not the guy you want.”
“B-But...I’m your soulmate. We-we’re made for each other.”
Jungkook scoffs harshly, and you want to sink into the ground. “That’s just a silly myth.” 
“So you don’t...believe in soulmates?” The words felt wrong to say when all your life, finding your soulmate felt like the ribbon at the end of the finish line. But here he was now, and you felt so small under his gaze. Like you weren’t meant to be there and standing in the same room with him was a concoction for heartbreak.
“No.”
Jungkook’s syllable pangs in your ear, and you think it might be your least favorite sound. Then you leave. And if it was hard for you to meet your soulmate - the person who you’re destined to be with - who doesn’t believe in you, then walking away from him was a different cross to bear. 
You take the bus home and ignore the glare of strangers when you burst into tears at a red light, and cry the rest of the way back. Your mother hadn’t described this. She prosed on and on about the feeling one gets after finding a soulmate but never mentioned to you how it feels when you find out they want nothing to do with you. What do you do when you realize the person you’ve been chasing for forever has been trying to run away at the same time? 
Jimin holds you together that night on your bedroom floor, while you break apart and scratch at the moon on your wrist until your skin breaks. He listens to the words you sputter; as much as he can decipher when they are drowned out by the painful sound of your sobbing. Jungkook’s beliefs bleed into your consciousness. Perhaps he is right and perhaps there is no such thing as true soulmates, and the marks are obsolete. 
However, when you fall asleep in your friend’s arms from the physical fatigue of violent crying and the sheer mental exhaustion of meeting Jeon Jungkook, your mind comes to a more painful conclusion. 
A more truthful conclusion.
Your soulmate only needed to meet you to decide that he did not want you.
Jungkook doesn’t believe in soulmates. He thinks they’re a stupid coy to give people false hope. An illusion to feign happiness and to take Yoojung away from someone she genuinely loved. Though in the hours of the night, when he is by himself and the bed feels too big for one body, Jungkook wonders if there is truly a reason why someone has an identical moon on their wrist. But he is still so broken and unhealed from the wounds Yoojung left behind.
 So instead of soulmates, he thinks about what she must be doing. If she’s eating well. If she’s moved in with her own soulmate and if they’re happy together. Jungkook is an involuntary masochist and he pays for it with every pillowcase that becomes stained with his tears. 
He sighs out an expletive after downing a shot of whiskey, relishing in the familiar burn as it slides down his throat. Alcohol doesn’t seem to be working efficiently, though. He’s only barely tipsy after years in college building tolerance, and he can still see your face each time he blinks. Like you are imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Jungkook wonders why Jimin had cancelled on the group tonight. 
There is a little devil called remorse and it stands atop his shoulder, unseen by everyone but him, and Jungkook decides he will get rid of it by calling another round of shots. From his seat in the dirty booth, he can see Min Yoongi and his soulmate practically dry humping on the dance floor. If anyone asks him if he ever gets jealous seeing soulmates happy and in love, he’ll laugh in their face and tell them he pities people like that. People that are so blinded by the system. But loneliness is a stern mistress and it makes him think of you. How lovely the moon looks on your wrist. How your hand felt so warm when it caressed against his skin. 
He tips his head back again. Vodka this time.
“Dude, are you okay?” 
To his right comes Kim Taehyung, designated driver extraordinaire, and he looks at Jungkook with friendly concern laced with amusement. Jungkook nods contentedly. 
“Soulmates are so bullshit, Tae”, he snickers, fingers tracing the rim of the shot glass and smirk on his face to mask the bitterness of both the alcohol and his heart. Taehyung spares a knowing glance, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder with the weight of knowledge of Jungkook’s past. 
The night is young and so is he. He drinks until he can no longer taste the liquor and forgets altogether about what had happened only a couple of hours before. Until the crescent mark on his skin just looks like a shapeless black blob, and it makes him smile. He thinks he likes it better that way. 
Taehyung drops him home and personally tucks him into bed while he is still in jeans and his shirt smells like the bar. His sleep is dreamless that night. When the morning comes and his friends tease him about how he begged Taehyung not to leave, Jungkook will laugh and blame the alcohol for his foggy memory. He won’t tell them that he does remember, and that he was only grasping at any warm body to soothe his aching loneliness.
Usually when he first opens his eyes in the morning, Jungkook is thinking about the next class he has to attend and if he is late (which is usually most of the time). This morning, albeit morbidly hungover, Jungkook thinks of the apple strudels they sell at the bakery next to the art building. Mrs. Kim always gets the pastry to filling ratio just right. But when he opens the door with a jubilant smile on his face and the scent of baked goods already in his nostrils, Jungkook has a feeling apple strudels will have to wait. 
There you are. In all your messy-haired glory, huffing like a caged bull in the doorway of his apartment, fiery gaze directed completely at him and all he can think to say is:
“How do you know where I live?” Jungkook schools his face expressionless in your presence. He hopes this will discourage you, but it only makes you angrier. 
“Park Jimin”, you snarl. 
Of fucking course, it’s always Park Jimin. Jimin who drunkenly sleeps in his bedroom and now Jimin who is leaking his address to any stranger.
“Um”, Jungkook stammers and takes a step back, “what are you doing here? Didn’t I get my point through yesterday?” He can see the statement catching you off guard, and the fury in your eyes dwindles to dejection. Only for a millisecond though, before you are aiming your wrath at him once again. 
You take a deep breath. “What is wrong with you?” 
Jungkook can think of a lot of answers to that query. He opts to interpret it as a rhetorical question and keep his mouth shut. 
“You just...found your soulmate! I’m your soulmate! And you don’t even want to get to know me? At all?”, you scream exasperatedly. Jungkook catches the gaze of a middle aged lady who is not-so-discreetly staring at the two of you, and pulls you inside his apartment by your arm. If you weren’t so frustrated, you would have been flustered at the physical contact. 
“Listen. Soulmates don’t end up together all the time. I’ve told you I’m not really interested in anything right now and it’s not a priority”, he takes a breath through his passionate monologue, “and I’m sorry that that’s not something you expected, but I….don’t want a soulmate.”
Maybe...he just doesn’t want you. 
When he says them out loud to a living breathing person, Jungkook realizes how cruel it sounds. He can see it in the way your eyes have become glossy under his living room lights and the way you shrink into yourself as self-defense against his blows. He rationalizes that he’d rather tell you the truth than lie to you now, only to hurt you later. Really, he’s doing you a kindness. Right?
You turn your back to him to gather your thoughts, and wipe the tears that you refuse to let him see. The salty drops sting the raw skin of your wrist after last night, and you are brutally reminded of the current reality. His brutal honesty makes you want to abandon all hope, but you were a woman with a plan. You came here for a reason, not to just lose your temper in your soulmate’s apartment and tell him what you really thought about him.
“I have a proposition for you”, you asserted calmly, staring Jungkook in the eye as he remains unbothered. 
“Now I reckon something’s happened to you to make you lose all your faith in soulmates, so I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Your eyebrows furrow when you speak focusedly.
“We don’t have to be together. That’s your will. But…”, you hesitate, pushing past the uncertainty and fear of another rejection from Jungkook, “will you let me at least try? You don’t have to promise anything. Can we just start as friends?” 
Naturally, Jungkook wants to shoot down your offer, kick you out of his apartment, and pretend like he never met anyone by the name of Y/N. Call it divine intervention but when he looks at you, pleading for any semblance of connection, he feels a tug at his heart strings. So Jungkook makes another promise to himself. He would let you “try”, whatever that entails. But there was no virtual possibility of letting you any closer than necessary. 
You both stand in contemplative silence before he lets out a resigned sigh. “On one condition”, he responds slowly, but there is already a premature grin growing on your face and you don’t think you could stop it even if you tried.
“You still have to be my model for the art portfolio.”
You agree before he even gets to take another breath. 
“Deal.” 
When you finally make your way out of Jungkook’s apartment, parting ways with an awkward number exchange and a ‘see you later’, there is a simultaneous feeling of hope and desolation. The optimism for Jungkook combines with the insecurity that perhaps you, just as you are, is not nearly enough to make someone fall in love. Especially someone who disregards their soul connection to you. 
You walk back to your apartment with a heavy heart that warms with embers of determination. Jeon Jungkook was an enigma. A Bastille fortress of self-defense mechanisms and destructive tendencies, and you know that there is unresolved pain. Call it a soulmate instinct or something, but you see it in his eyes. You see it in the way his face begs to show emotion but his mind refuses to acknowledge. 
You know Jungkook is not obligated to accept you after the dust settles, much less fall in love with you. Under the peach blossoms of the campus sidewalk, you make a promise anyway.  To yourself and to your soulmate and the silly little mark on the inside of your wrist. Even if he does not love you, you vow to help Jungkook learn to love himself.
When you are harshly woken up at 5:30 in the morning, the last person you expected to be blowing up your phone was Jeon Jungkook. If it weren’t for the pure exhaustion seeping through your bones, you would have been excited about your soulmate calling you. Alas, slumber was your soulmate now. Jungkook would have to step down. 
On the other side of the paper thin wall, Jimin is frustratedly banging from his room, your ringtone reverberating throughout the entire apartment. You pick up his call without even opening your eyes.
“Hello?” 
“Y/N I need you to come to my apartment as soon as you can.” There is no sleepiness in his voice. Just clean and cold like it always is and he has hung up before you get the chance to scold him for waking you up at this unholy hour. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind but you remember he is paying you very handsomely for your efforts, and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to call an uber. Thank god he doesn’t live too far away otherwise you’ll stick a foot through his canvas for the transportation bill. 
The front of Jungkook’s apartment door is strangely therapeutic, and you find yourself falling asleep standing up after you’ve rung the doorbell. Either time passes too slowly when you are sleep-drunk or Jungkook moves to get the door as quickly as your grandfather does. Whatever the case, you are about to pass out on his doorstep if he doesn’t come soon.
“Y/N, why are you just standing there? The door has been open.” 
“Jungkook. Why are you making me do this so early?”, you yawn, pushing inside the apartment. 
Jungkook takes in your discombobulated appearance, and almost wants to laugh. You were still in your pajamas, and the bun on your head now looked more like a heaping blob that drooped down your temple. It was obvious that you had just rolled out of bed and he almost feels bad for disturbing your sleep, but he does not decide when his strokes of inspiration spontaneously appear. 
The living room is bombarded with Jungkook’s art supplies and stray canvases, and you take note of the clay sculpting table that blends in as furniture next to his kitchen. You plop yourself down on the stool across from Jungkook’s easel, eyes still half closed and impossibly tired.
 In this moment, Jungkook wipes the fact that you are his soulmate from his mind. He needs to do the portfolio. That is all he’s keeping you around for, and the only reason he agreed to your plan was so that you would remain his art model. 
In the silence of his makeshift art studio, Jungkook paints whatever comes to his mind, referencing your figure on the stool for the curves he can never get right without a model and need for a human presence to translate onto his canvas. You become more lucid as time goes by and the sun starts to rise from outside his window, sitting up straighter and paying more attention to his concentrated face as Jungkook pours himself into his creation. 
Looking at him in this light, you realize that he is beautiful. And not just because he’s your soulmate. Jungkook’s hair is scruffy and stubbled, undereyes sporting impressive dark circles. But the way he caresses the paintbrush and the way his body moves to the beat of the painting is poetic. He glances at you sporadically, eyes darting to and fro to capture as much as he can before the creativity burns out. He is beautiful and it makes your heart ache to know that he does not want you. In spite of the bond the universe has created. 
You wonder if in his focused hazed, he notices the new glaze across your eyes and the silent sound of your soul calling out for his. You wipe away the first dripping tear as quickly as it came. You know Jungkook sees, but does not bat an eye and you can’t tell if you’d rather prefer him to acknowledge it. 
It’s 8:00am when he puts the paintbrush down, takes a step back, and surveys his work. His eyes trail over each organic line and areas where he decided to use burnishing instead of cross hatching. It’s far from perfect, but it’s enough. 
“Okay. You’re free to go”, he announces, plucking the painting off the easel and resting it against the wall, hidden from your eyes. 
“W-What? That’s it?”, you sigh disappointedly, “you’re not even going to let me see it?” Jungkook shrugs. His detachedness makes you want to rip your hair out and sob into your pillow at the same time. You don’t understand how a person could be so unfazed. 
“S’not ready for debut. Thanks for showing up, though.” He doesn’t spare you another glance. Just goes back to cleaning his brushes and dumping out the glasses of murky paint water. You ignore the twinge of hurt in your chest and slide off the stool. 
“Okay, fine. Now it’s my turn. Would you like to go have some breakfast?”, you smile expectantly to Jungkook, who stares at you with an indifferent gaze. His first instinct is to make up a half-assed excuse to get out of this, eager to detach himself from you as much as possible and avoid any more interaction. However, he was insanely hungry, and the glimmer in your eye just looks so hopeful even Jungkook couldn’t bear to shoot you down.
He sighs with resignation. A little breakfast couldn’t hurt, and he wasn’t going with you necessarily. You were just...going to the same cafe in the same direction as him and likely sitting at the same table. Yeah, that’s it. 
“Hurry up, I’m hungry.” 
“Wait...actually?”
You blinked in shock at his lack of resistance. 
“Yes. Now come on. I know a place with really great apple strudels.”
You weren’t aware that by ‘breakfast’, Jungkook actually meant sitting in complete silence and wolfing down food like your life depends on it. You want to be grossed out when he inhales 3 apple strudels in less than 10 minutes, crumbs flaking on his shirt without a care in the world. Yet you just feel endeared. The sight makes you smile. And maybe if Jungkook did not detest you, you would have leaned over and kissed the cinnamon sugar right off his lips. 
“So….”, you sip on a sweet coffee, “Jimin told me you’re going for a masters in art history?” 
Jungkook nods halfway through a bite of his pastry. “Yup.” 
“Is it something you’re really passionate about?” you inquire, desperately wanting the conversation to delve into something that wasn’t so surface level.
“Uh huh.”
“What are some other things you’re interested in besides art?”
“Totally.” 
Jungkook is completely clueless. He only spares glances to the windows and occasional looks to his oh so precious breakfast treats. You want to slap him and be angry, but you only sigh. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk to your soulmate, yet it felt like trying to pull teeth when he was so completely disinterested in you. You wonder if this is worth it.
You look up at him from your steaming cappuccino cup and use your wildcard. 
“In my opinion, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus did little for the Italian Renaissance movement.” 
Your statement almost has Jungkook falling backwards in his chair and choking on a piece of fruit filling, eyes growing as wide as saucers when he finally processes what you just said. A flaming insult to the entire art historian community. 
“What do you know about Botticelli?”, he sneers, and you internally celebrate for this is the most emotion Jungkook has shown since meeting you. 
“I know that his work supposedly epitomizes the spirit of the Renaissance”, you swirl the coffee in your cup nonchalantly, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “But if you ask me, Bellini’s San Giobbe Altarpiece did much more to encapsulate the values of 15th century Italy.” 
Jungkook’s speechless expression is one that you want to take a snapshot of and frame it to your wall. It is glorious, and arguably more artful to you than Botticelli himself. So what, you had conveniently forgot to mention to him about the class you took junior year of college, with a professor that made you engrave the fundamentals of Italian painting in your brain. It’s so much more gratifying to see him stunned silent. 
Across the table from you, Jungkook feels a warm smile itching to display itself. Before it can appear, he disguises it as a cold smirk. He feels something akin to a butterfly at the pit of his stomach, but blames it on indigestion and the inhuman pace at which he devoured his breakfast. Yeah that must be it. There was no way he was feeling butterflies. 
He cracks his knuckles, raises his cup to gulp down a lukewarm green tea, and rests his elbows on the table separating the both of you.
“I don’t suppose you could tell me your thoughts on the influences of neo-classicism in the 18th century?” 
“No, Y/N, turn to your left a little”, Jungkook frustratedly sighs behind the camera lens.
“Your left or my left?”
He pauses. “....left.” 
To any outside eye, you and Jungkook look like two buffoons trying to take pictures on what might possibly be the windiest day of the season, under the peach blossom trees. Jungkook had called you earlier that day and stressed about how he needed mixed media in his beloved portfolio, and photographs were the next topic of interest. Though you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just set out a fruit bowl on his windowsill and call it still life photography.
Jungkook stares down at his camera, dissatisfaction clear on his face. You almost want to apologize for your abhorrent modeling skills but hey, he was the one that chose you. 
“Hmm...try staring at that boat in the distance”, he dictates, standing beside you and aiming the lens at your side profile. You do as he asks, but don’t hear the shutter of the camera. Jungkook sighs again and leans forward, so close you could feel his warm breath hitting your skin. You hope he doesn’t notice the beet blush on your cheeks.
Jungkook’s hands meet your chin when he uses it to slightly tilt your face downwards. He positions you in the way that he wants you to pose and you finally understand why photography is considered an art. Because it’s almost as if Jungkook is molding you like clay, to get the silhouette he wants to capture with his camera lens. The day is brisk, but his skin on your’s lights you on fire. 
“Okay, that’s…..that’s perfect”, Jungkook breathes, hurriedly picking up the camera that had been hanging onto his neck by the strap and angling it. At the moment his index finger presses down on the button, there is a gust of wind that surrounds the both of you.
The breeze loosens a strand of your hair and it falls into your eyes. You let your eyes drift close for a second, smiling into the cold air that tingles on your skin. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he thanks the skies for the howling wind so you wouldn’t be able to hear his thumping heartbeat. But surely it’s only because it’s cold. And absolutely nothing else. Jungkook coughs inconspicuously to snap himself out of his trance, sighing in relief when he realizes your eyes are still closed and that you hadn’t noticed his internal struggle. 
He drags you to a bridge next and makes you lay on the cold wood to which you vehemently object before you remember that he’s paying you and that you want him to fall in love with you, not dislike you more than he already does. After the bridge, Jungkook makes you kneel beside the park pond and dip your hand in the icy water and you find yourself wanting to do the same thing to his precious camera. 
Before the two of you have realized, the sun sets into the horizon and tinges the sky in a combination of purples and pinks that Jungkook himself has a hard time replicating on canvas. He aims his lens at the clouds and takes a picture that he knows won’t make it into his gallery. He just felt the need to have something to remember this day by. For no reason in particular…
A buzzing coming from your coat pocket alerts you both of the time that has passed and how the sky has considerably darkened since you began the session. When you fish your phone out, Jimin’s contact photo is staring back at you while the marimba ringtone continues playing. You put the phone on speaker.
“Hey Jiminie”, you smile and Jungkook catches a glance of it. And the discomfort in his chest is definitely, 100%, not jealousy. Not at all.
“I told you not to call me that! What is with you younger people and your disrespect for the elderly?” The corner of Jungkook’s lips twitch into a subtle smile at the similarity of your’s and his conversations with Jimin. 
“Okay, okay, grandpa. What’s up?”
“Can you come home ASAP? I may or may not have broken the stove trying to make soup.” 
The redundancy of his confession makes you sigh, as Park Jimin desecrating your shared kitchen space was not a rare occurrence by any means. 
“I’ll be right there”, you chided through the line, “please do not cook anything else before I arrive.” 
“Thanks Y/N-ie, you’re the best!” Jimin’s voice is far too cheery and you make a mental note to nag him a little extra when you get home. The phone call is ended promptly and you turn around to Jungkook, eyes widening in surprise when he has already packed up all his photography gear. The sky had turned dark and the streetlights had been turned on to illuminate the park. If you had craned your neck upwards, you would have noticed the stars that awoke again to shine down upon the city. But you didn’t. You only saw the stars that were twinkling in Jungkook’s eyes. 
“Uh”, he stammers, “I’ll walk you home. It’s late.” 
“Oh! Uh...Thanks.” Though he was still cold and indifferent, your heart jumped in elation. Perhaps this could be considered baby steps. 
The trip home is quiet, only the sounds of your tandem footsteps on pavement and the rustle of a breeze through tree leaves fill the space of silence. But the quiet is not uncomfortable. Just a bit awkward as you two try to figure out how to be around one another. Jungkook’s hands are shoved in his pockets and your fingers itch to intertwine themselves around his own. To press your soulmate marks together and feel them calling out to each other. But you and Jungkook are anything but normal soulmates. For you are already head over heels in love with him and he is adamant on not sparing you a crumb of affection. 
To your disdain, the apartment was closer than you thought and the short walk with Jungkook ended before it really even began. You could practically hear Jimin’s impatience emanating from the third story of the building. 
“So I’ll see you later?”, you smile meekly. Jungkook readjusts the strap of his camera bag before nodding. He is walking away before you turn around to enter the apartment building and even though it was something small and mundane, you wished he would have waited to see you get in safely. You make your way inside, more downcast than you had been before.
You don’t see when Jungkook turns around. You don’t feel the reassurance that washes over him when the door shuts safely behind you. 
That night, Jungkook is reminded far too much of Yoojung. When he goes to make his usual chamomile, he finds her mug at the very back of the tea cabinet. She must have forgotten it when she packed up her stuff. When he spoons in the sugar, he remembers how Yoojung drinks her tea with honey instead. And when he feels himself start to fall apart, he remembers how Yoojung is not there to keep him together. 
Jungkook pushes away his pain, abandons the lukewarm mug of tea, and opts for an early bedtime to sleep away the ache. The camera sitting on his nightstand, though, beckons him to look over the photos you both had taken that afternoon. 
In the moment, he had been dissatisfied with the pictures, always thinking there must be a better angle or a better position you could shift into. However when he looks down at his camera now, in the quiet and solemnity of his bedroom, Jungkook can’t help but to think they are absolutely perfect. 
He doesn’t know whether to credit his own artistic skill or you; for breathing life into his photographs. It’s the lines of your hands, the slope of your nose, and the stray strands of your hair that makes his pictures more human. 
The ones he ends up picking though, are not perfectly  staged and not the ones where he made you change the position of your stance for 10 minutes. No, the best pictures were the ones he took without you noticing. When you had just been enjoying the cool breeze or admiring the beauty of peach blossom season. When you point out a cool looking bird and when you stared annoyedly past the cameras lens (at him no doubt). 
Yoojung is gone from his mind for just a tiny fleeting moment. For little reason at all, Jungkook finds himself smiling. And there is only the company of the moon to see it. 
 It is ten o’ clock in the morning and Jungkook comes to a realization that in the couple weeks since he has met you, he has sighed more times than he has in the past 23 years of life. Jungkook sighs when you text him first thing in the morning about the dream you had the night before and describe it in painfully vivid details. He leaves them unanswered. Sometimes he wished you would just email him the google document instead. He sighs when you fidget in your seat when he’s trying to paint and keep focus, but you are only interested in asking him the snacks he has in his fridge or when he’s going to finish. He sighs when you and Jimin collectively trash his art studio by spamming his $1,000 camera with ugly face pictures and sword fighting with his sable paint brushes. Jungkook often has a hard time believing that both of you are in graduate school. 
Today, he sighs when you bombard into room 62B of the art building; what is supposed to be Jungkook’s completely zen and peaceful creative space. You are tiptoeing around him as you always do, scared that you’ll do something to set him off and your soulmate will disown you for good. He glances at you once, eyes quickly darting back to the sculpture he is molding on the clay table and saying nothing. 
“There’s a new cafe that just opened right across from the apple strudel place”, you gulp tensely. “I was gonna go check out the competition.” Your words seem deaf to Jungkook’s ear and he only furrows his eyebrows, fingers fussing over the mass of clay. There was just something he couldn’t get right. He didn’t know what it was. 
Jungkook pushes away the sculpture frustratedly, wipes his hands on his apron, and finally looks at you. Maybe he did need a break and come back to it with fresh eyes. That’s all it was, though. A break. He wasn’t going because you asked him to. 
“They better have blonde roast otherwise you’ll be compensating me for my time.” Jungkook is as ruthless and blunt as ever and you decide to look past it as you always do. Him agreeing to go with you was a mini success. 
“Welcome in! You’ve stopped by at the perfect time. The strawberry scones have just been taken out of the oven!” The cafe employee is far too enthusiastic for receiving minimum wage and greeting grumpy people off the streets who just want to be caffeinated. His name tag reads Jung Hoseok. 
“Oh, strawberry is my favorite”, you whisper, the statement only meant for your ears but Jungkook picks up on it anyway. He declines to tell you that strawberry is his favorite as well. Hoseok’s eyes light up when you and Jungkook approach the entrance, like he finally succeeded at luring a customer. 
The cafe isn’t anything special. A bit more modern compared to the one across the street and you think you prefer the latter because this new one doesn’t have the owner’s handsome son standing at the cash register. He may not be your soulmate, but even you had to admit Kim Seokjin was a beautiful man if there ever was one. However, this cafe is warm and has ceiling length windows that let in an obscene amount of sunlight. Jungkook makes a mental note to try some pictures here in the future. 
Jungkook’s phone buzzes in his pocket and you are already leaving him behind in the dust, walking straight to the counter and peering up at the menu deep in thought. You turn around to see that he is immersed in mysterious conversation, and take it upon yourself to order him a drink. 
“I’ll have a matcha latte. And uh…”, you decide, trailing off as you wonder what kind of drink Jungkook would enjoy. “And an iced vanilla mocha latte, extra whipped cream, extra chocolate syrup. Do you guys have rainbow sprinkles?” 
A little sugar never hurt anyone. Especially someone so often bitter like your one and only soulmate. 
When Jungkook hangs up and makes his way to the corner table where you are situated, the sight of the concoction on the table is enough to give him an instant cavity. You hide your smile behind the mug of matcha. He grumbles and sits down swiftly, sticking the straw past his lips in defiance and you can only watch expectantly. 
“Well…do you like it?” 
This is when Jungkook realizes you didn’t order this to spite him. You just had completely zero idea what he liked and disliked and chose the first thing you thought was best. As cold as he is, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that when he drinks coffee, he likes it black. No cream, no sugar, and the darkest roast with the most caffeine to push him through those nights spent in front of a canvas or over a clay table. 
Jungkook fights to keep steady from the ambush of sugar and wills himself to swallow it down. There is sticky chocolate syrup on his hands and it feels cosmically more uncomfortable than paint. But Jungkook manages to look up at you and nod, to which you reward with a smile. 
“I knew you would like it”, you say smugly, giving yourself a mental pat on the back. “You look like you have a giant sweet tooth.” There is a mellow giggle that follows your statement. Jungkook feels a flutter at the bottom of his stomach, and convinces himself it’s only because it sounds so much like Yoojung. He catches sight of the moon on your wrist, and pushes the feeling away even farther. 
The two of you spend the rest of the midday there, tucked away in a corner of a cafe and losing track of time as you always do. Jungkook finds himself forgetting about the mountains of work he has to do to finish his art gallery portfolio, and the unfinished sculpture back at the studio that’s just not right. 
Today, he allows himself to enjoy your presence and get to know you more. Your favorite color is yellow. You had a dog named Benny when you were a child. You detest beer with a passion, but enjoy a nightly glass of pinot grigio. Jungkook barely notices when the entire cup of coffee has disappeared. Every last rainbow sprinkle.
On second thought, he feels that maybe there was something sweeter than his unexpectedly delicious iced vanilla mocha latte with extra whipped cream. Maybe that something was sitting right across from him, rambling about the fundamentals of English literature with unexplained vigor. 
Jungkook’s soul feels lighter when he goes to bed that night. And when he finally succumbs to Morpheus, his last lucid thought is of you; sun beams coming from the large cafe windows that comb through your hair. He looks at you through his mind’s eye and all he can see is the potential heartbreak you have the power to put him through. The fan of your eyelashes. The curve of your smile. The plush of your lips. All he can see is Yoojung as she crushes his soul in her bare hands. 
Yet in the midst of his internal conflict, Jungkook’s subconscious allows him to fall in love with you a little bit. Perhaps not love just yet, but affection. Like a toe dip in uncharted waters or sticking his finger in a bowl of creamy cake batter just for a taste. The walls he has built are still there, strong as ever, but perhaps a couple bricks look a bit askew. He doesn’t know, but his soul calls out to your’s through the fortress.
“Y/N I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea.”
“Oh hush, just close your eyes and point where your heart tells you to.”
In the lobby of a train station, facing a map and an ETA board is where you and Jungkook will be embarking on your next “date but not really because you don’t believe in soulmates so let’s just hang out”. It had taken a good two hours of nagging and whining on your part to convince him to abandon his portfolio for just a little bit to go an outing. Now standing here, with you excitedly bouncing next to him and a mystery destination, Jungkook feels something akin to utter regret. 
“What if I choose somewhere that’s a thousand miles away? Or just in the middle of nowhere?”, Jungkook groans, still putting up an unbothered and cold front. 
“Well then we will go somewhere that’s a thousand miles away or in the middle of nowhere”, you quipped back at him. Jungkook had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one. 
He reluctantly places a hand over his eyes, sighing with resignation before pointing to a random spot on the map. There is a giggle that sounds to his left and Jungkook finds himself wanting to hear more. 
“Wonderful choice”, you smiled, “couldn’t have picked it better myself.” 
Jungkook peeked his eyes open one at a time, scared of seeing what his intuition has chosen for your guys’ spontaneous destination. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that his fingers landed on a town on the outskirts of the city, 20 minutes away from the university. He silently thanks the universe for not sabotaging his wallet and time. 
“We’re never doing this again, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks as you are in front of him, skipping happily to the front desk to buy two train tickets. 
“Wasn’t it fun, though? The thrill?”, you chuckle at his demeanor, to which he only shakes his head vehemently. You note the newest thing you’ve just learned about Jungkook: he has an aversion to uncertainty and spontaneity. 
The train ride was as brief as it was uneventful. You spent the time rambling to Jungkook about all the quips and quirks about yourself and he only listened. Though he kept quiet, his face was free of any annoyance or indication that you were speaking too much. Jungkook only stared at you and unknowing to you, he soaked in every bit of information like a sponge. If anyone asked, he could tell them what foods you were allergic to, what colors wash you out, and what vegetables you hated the most. 
“Wow you didn’t have to pick somewhere so far away, Jungkook.” You muse as the two of you step out of the train car. So far away in fact, that if you were to crane your head up enough, you would be able to see the university from a distance. 
“Hey, you were the one who made me choose”, Jungkook spares a rare smile, “Would you rather we have shelled out our wallets to go on an 18-hour train ride?”
“Okay, fair point.”
The city was as abundant as it was big, and the both of you walked aimlessly from avenue to avenue, stopping occasionally whenever you see a dog you just can’t help but to pet or whenever Jungkook complained about his sore feet. As cold and indifferent as Jungkook made himself out to be, you’ve quickly come to realize that he’s actually a big baby. He still hasn’t let you in or even lowered his walls by a tiny centimeter, but you like to think that even agreeing to go anywhere with you could be considered significant progress.
Jungkook doesn’t notice the pounding of his heart whenever his hands graze against your’s, walking side by side so close he can feel the heat emanating through your coat. He doesn’t notice the peace he feels, just the synchronicity of his feet as he places them on the pavement. 
The fraught wind that blows straight at Jungkook’s face prompts him to look up from where his eyes were cast on the ground. He almost staggers at how strong it is, but finds himself weak in the knees for a completely different reason.
Of course.
Of all the days, of all the times, of all the people in this entire city.
Of course she had to be the one that was currently staring at him from across the intersection. 
The red light seems to go on forever. Either that or time has just spontaneously frozen, Jungkook can’t tell. But his eyes are fixed on hers and his feet bolster him to the concrete when all he wants to do is sprint the other way and forget he ever saw this ghost from the past. 
Yoojung looks as beautiful as the day she left him. 
She’s gained some weight and her cheeks have filled out, but it looks healthy on her now (Jungkook always chided her for forgetting to eat). She stares at him with a combination of shock and guilt and something he wants to overthink into affection but he won’t give himself that satisfaction anymore. She dyed her hair. Light brown looks good on her. 
She looks...happy. As happy as anyone can look when they’re rushing through thick crowds of a city, traffic horns blaring like a dilapidated symphony. 
In the heat of it all, it’s impossible for you not to notice Jungkook’s sudden change in demeanor or the way he has suddenly stopped breathing. When you follow his gaze, there is a girl on the other side of the street that shares the same starstruck expression and even from the outside looking in, you can feel the weight of something painful in his eyes. In her stature. 
When the lights turn green, the throngs of city dwellers migrate across and you stay beside Jungkook when he doesn’t move a muscle. Not even a finger twitch. But she does. And he can only fight to keep the ache away when Yoojung gets closer with every millisecond. Until she is standing right in front of him and he can smell her familiar vanilla perfume. 
“Jungkook”, she speaks, apprehension in her voice. “It’s been a while...how are you?” 
Yoojung only spares you a side glance while keeping attention on Jungkook and you only grow more curious as to who this strange woman is. 
He wants to speak so badly but his tongue remains frozen. He turns to you with flabbergast in his eyes and shakes his head to snap out of the daze of confusion. Of seeing the love of his life again. Or who he thought was the love of his life. 
“Could you give us a minute, Y/N?” 
You didn’t know why but the words that came from his lips made you feel disappointed. Perhaps you were just stupid for thinking he would introduce you. Tell her that you’re his soulmate and scream it at the top of his lungs with sheer pride. But your imagination has hurt you countless times and you had a feeling this one wouldn’t be the last. You manage a curt nod and push away the twinge in your heart. There was a boundary between you and Jungkook and today was not the day to cross it and introduce yourself as his soulmate to any random stranger. 
Once you are out of vicinity and have found solace in a bookstore 10 feet away, Jungkook allows himself to breathe in Yoojung’s presence. 
“I didn’t know if you were still in the city”, he falters, voice coming out quieter than he would have liked it to. But what was he supposed to sound like confronting the supposed love of his life. 
“I never left, Jungkook...my entire life is here.” She sighs, smiling lightly with eyes seeping with guilt. 
He scoffs. “I don’t know Yoojung, you seem to leave behind important things pretty easily.” Jungkook feels himself getting angrier and resentful by the second, and though he knows it is unfair of him, Yoojung’s mere presence brings back all the wounds he never truly healed from. 
Granted, on a concrete sidewalk next to a traffic light pole was not the best place to have a heart to heart about failed relationships. But when has the universe ever given Jungkook the best things in life. He is devastatingly cynical for someone who dedicates his career to art. 
Yoojung wears a frown on her face, but there is no vindictiveness there. Just an overwhelming sense of remorse that Jungkook communicates as pity. 
“I don’t know how else to say that I’m sorry”, she sighs, eyes falling to the ground. Jungkook wishes it would just open up and swallow him whole. 
“Then don’t say anything.” He turns to walk away.
“Wait! Jungkook can we...can’t we catch up or something? For a couple minutes?” Yoojung is visibly desperate, and her hands are outstretched as if wanting to touch him but keeping herself from overstepping the line. 
Jungkook glances through the window of the bookstore, and you are situated on a chair, already nose deep in a hefty book. He wants to smile and tease you for being such a nerd, but the weight of Yoojung’s presence makes him reinforce those walls of indifference tenfold. 
He exhales frustration and inhales temptation, looking back into Yoojung’s familiar eyes and nodding. Jungkook walks to a nearby bench and sits down with no words exchanged, looking forward coldly even when he feels her warmth next to him. A couple months ago, Jungkook would have set all his canvases on fire to feel her beside him again. Now, he’s not so sure.
“So…”, she starts, “who’s that cute girl you were with?” 
“No one.” He shoots out a little too soon with no hesitation. Yoojung gulps.
“You know Jungkook, it’s okay to find someone. I-I know I hurt you, but I’m glad if you’ve found someone who doesn’t.” Jungkook doesn’t say anything so she continues.
“I’m really happy for-”
“I never really forgave you Yoojung.” He stares blankly at the passersby and tries to ignore the ache in his bones. The one that’s been there the day she left and took a piece of his heart with her. 
“And I don’t want to blame you for my decisions but I want you to know that I push away a lot of people because of you. People that don’t deserve it.” From the corner of his eye, he can see her nod solemnly to his words and fidget with her hands in her lap. Part of him feels guilty for unloading on Yoojung. Part of him feels like maybe he deserves to. 
“What you did was really shitty. Astronomically fucking shitty. And I’ve spent the past eternity hating you and maybe I still do, but…”, Jungkook takes a deep breath, “I want to forgive you now. If not fully, then partially. I hope you can understand that.” He finally tilts his head to look at her and though the smile on her face is as beautiful as he remembers it to be, Jungkook no longer feels the longing. No longer feels the sting that he usually does when his thoughts take him back to the years they spent together. 
Jungkook doesn’t want to call it closure, not yet anyway. Sitting here on the bench, he still wants to scream and yell and tell Yoojung of all the nights he’s spent alone since she left. He still wants to drag her back and wonder if she could love him again like she used to. 
But he doesn’t. He listens when she tells him about her new job and her new apartment right by the lakeside. They share snippets of their separate lives. Just deep enough to rekindle something warm but shallow enough to not invite anything else in. 
When he walks away from the bench and into the bookstore, Jungkook stills feels the walls that he has built around himself. He is still scared of opening up and being vulnerable but the anger held for Yoojung for so long is no longer a raging fire. More so a wickering flame. 
When he spots you, though, he remembers why he built those walls in the first place. He remembers how easy it used to be for him to climb a high peak and fall to his demise. Your eyes widen when you catch sight of him, lips curling into a wide smile and clear excitement in your expression. The book in your hands is tossed aside and tunnel vision reserved for him and him only. Something blooms in his chest and he can’t remember the last time someone’s been so elated to just simply see him...aside from his dog. Jungkook reminds himself to act uncaring. If he pretends long enough, he’ll start to believe it himself. 
The train ride home feels longer than the one there. The minutes drag by and perhaps it is because of your drooping eyes or the way Jungkook is looking at you with a different tenderness than he has been before. His stare is not harsh. It’s soft and sweet, but subtle enough for you to wonder if you are just imagining it. The night has always been unforgiving and cold even in the spring, but perhaps all that’s needed to breathe some warmth, is a 15 minute train ride and a wrist with a crescent moon.
Yet every time you become more smitten with Jungkook, there is a harsh reminder that follows you everywhere like a designated storm cloud. 
Jungkook does not love you. And you are trying and you will continue to try but his eyes tell you something he is too courteous to say. You see it now as he sits across from you and admires the skyline from the window. It makes you wonder if it is soulmates he doesn’t believe in, or if it is just you that he can’t bring himself to accept. With every cold glance and wall that he puts up, you start to convince yourself that it is the latter.
“We’re here, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks quietly, interrupting your drifting thoughts. He turns around and leaves the train car with hands tucked in his coat pocket. Did you expect him to escort you out and hold your hand? Of course not. But you were tired of Jungkook being so indifferent to your existence. 
You follow him glumly out the doors that slide close after you step through. Then it zips off again and you wonder where it would have taken you if you just stayed in your seat. If Jungkook would have even noticed that you hadn’t followed him when he left. 
You sigh into the night air and wish it was winter so that your breath could be visible as a white cloud. Maybe then Jungkook would notice that you were a living being beside him. 
“Who was that girl that we met back there?”, you murmur hesitantly. Jungkook nearly chokes on air. 
“No one”, he responds curtly, effectively cutting off the conversation then and there. It makes your heart sink. She must be important and all you want to do is know every single detail about their relationship, but the look in his eyes warn you to not pry. 
You don’t think you can forget the way Jungkook looked at her from across the street. Like he had been lost this whole time and she was the North star. You saw the way his eyes twinkled in the midday sun and sparkled even more when she came closer. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to have that effect on him. 
“Hey, next time you should pick a place you and I both do not live in”, you giggle, nudging his shoulder with your own. It makes him smile and even though your heart feels heavy in your chest, Jungkook looks so beautiful when he smiles. 
The two pair of feet subconsciously carry you both to the front door of your apartment building and the scene is too familiar from the last time. You expect him to turn around and whisper a hushed goodnight under his breath, and you’ll have to watch the back of his head disappear down the street. But he doesn’t. Just stands across from you quietly and waits for you to say something. So you do. 
“Jungkook, I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t want to remember. I don’t really know your story but it seems you two have a lot of history.” You want to tell him how hard it is for you to be his soulmate when he is so clearly vying for the warmth of someone else. Someone who didn’t have a crescent moon on her wrist. 
“I know you’ll tell me whenever you’re ready, and if that’s never then I’ll keep waiting until forever. But I’m here if you want to talk or unload and I already know I can help because…” you fidget with your hands and look around nervously. 
“Well, because I’m your soulmate.” 
When you say it loud and explicitly, Jungkook thought the statement would have made him recoil. But it doesn’t. It just seeps through his consciousness and feels warm when he thinks about the weight of those words. You are his soulmate, regardless of if he believes in such a thing or not. You carry the same mark as he does on your wrist and somehow, by some intangible factor, the universe had decided that you were created for him and he for you. 
And when he looks at you. Really looks at you. When Jungkook processes your sincere words and how you manage to deal with his insurmountable boundaries even when you barely know him…
Jungkook has never wanted to kiss you more. 
So he does. 
Your lips taste like mint chewing gum and the ghost of words you wish to tell him but can’t. He feels you stiffen until you completely melt in his hold, and Jungkook cradles your face with both his hands, pulling you closer to him until there is no barrier between you but the clothes on your back and the emotional distance. You feel so far away even when you’re this near. Was it a trick of your imagination when you felt the moon on your wrist tingling? 
It doesn’t last as long as you would’ve liked it to. Jungkook yanks his hands from you like your skin scalded him and takes several steps back. His chest rises up and down violently when his breath comes out ragged, posture stiffening as the gravity of what just happened finally absorbs. You’re there, he knows you’re there and standing in front of him. So why is it he can only see Yoojung. Yoojung and the star on her wrist and apologies on her lips. Yoojung and the tears in her eyes when she walks away. 
You can only stare confusedly when his body goes rigid, and a sudden coldness envelops you both. 
And in the haze of post-embrace, like any two normal lovers, you catch something in his eyes that sets a heavy feeling in your stomach. Before you can confirm if it’s just a trick of the light, Jungkook is already running in the opposite direction and you can only see a shadow of sullen love that follows him. He is gone and you are standing alone, wondering how moonlight could feel so cold even on a spring night. 
You don’t get any sleep that night. Every time you close your eyes, there is only the sight of Jungkook’s disgust and regret to lull you to dreams. 
20 minutes away from your apartment, there is a boy who doesn’t sleep either. He won’t text or call to tell you that he can’t shake off the feeling of your skin on his and your breath fanning his cheek. He won’t admit to himself that tonight, when he looked at you, he felt the possibility of falling in love. He won’t tell you that the moon on his skin longs to be traced by your hands. No, he just shares those secrets with his pillow as its linen soaks up his tears. 
In the midst of it all, there is one verdict that becomes clear to him.
Jungkook wishes he had never told Jimin he needed a muse.
The next three weeks is dedicated to trying to get in touch with your soulmate. Through the whirlwinds of utter confusion and desperation, you try texting, calling, emailing, even showing up at his art studio and apartment to no avail. It seemed he had a talent for avoiding soulmates. 
It hurt, to say the least. That he left you high and dry after giving you the most intense
kiss of your life and doesn’t even have the decency to let you know he’s alive. The feeling of his lips still burns on your skin and you wonder if you are a complete fool for being so smitten with a person who, quite possibly, hasn’t spared you a single thought after that night. You just want - no you just need some clarity. 
Jungkook makes you wait another week before replying. 
It is an impossibly sunny day when you wake up. Your neck is stiff from sleeping like a contortionist and your heart aches even more than your muscles with every passing morning with radio silence from your soulmate. You want to call him and tell him you’re sorry. That you’ll forget anything ever happened. It hurts to even think about it, but for Jungkook, you would go through a little more pain so he would let you into his life. 
Outside the hall, Jimin is singing along to a familiar melody of a song you don’t know the name of and judging by the aroma that wafts through the cracks of your door, he has successfully made a pot of coffee. He has been an anchor throughout this whole thing, and sometimes you make a secret wish to the stars that Jimin had been the one with a crescent moon on his wrist instead. Perhaps that way, you wouldn’t have to go through the agony of chasing love that is constantly sprinting away from you. 
Your phone lays on the bedside table and buzzes innocently to start the morning. When you reach over and scroll through notifications routinely, there is a name there that makes your heart pang. Makes you want to throw up and celebrate at the same time. A text from Jungkook. Your fingers shake as you open it. 
I no longer need a model for the portfolio. Thank you for your involvement. Compensation will be provided promptly. 
The day you met him, you already knew that Jungkook was cold. He never dawdled around a painful truth or toed the line between bluntness and sparing feelings. Jungkook spoke his mind, collateral damage be damned. But this is a different type of cold. This one feels more like dry ice on warm skin. Like the numbing chill of a fading hope. Like winter’s first snowfall when autumn had promised you it would forever stay. 
Phone in your hand and tears threatening to drip down your cheeks, you wish you would have waited a bit more before opening his text. Perhaps that way you could have spent the rest of your morning basking in the spring sun, drinking Jimin’s inevitably bad coffee, having hope that Jeon Jungkook would grow to care for you. Perhaps if you hadn’t opened it so soon, your soulmate would still seem in reach. 
Jimin’s mug nearly drops out of his hand when the door of your bedroom is slammed open. He flings it to the side when he notices your red-rimmed eyes and the shaking hands that clutch onto a cellphone. You scream and sob at the universe, at anyone, asking why it was you that had to experience the chaos of longing. Jimin was there to hold you, as he always is, and helplessly listen to the sound of your heart breaking once again by the hands of Jungkook.
Room 62B of the art building is a place you hope to never have to visit again. Though it’s walls contain memories of you and Jungkook, and the evenings navigating his gallery portfolio along with your convoluted relationship, the wallpaper bleeds with a longing ache. A yearning pain. And if those walls could talk, you don’t think you would want them to say anything at all. They would only murmur what you are slowly accepting to be true.
Jungkook, your soulmate, wants nothing to do with you. 
When you hesitantly rap on the door with a fisted hand, the sound of him rustling from inside makes you want to run the opposite direction. It opens before you get the chance to change your mind and the sight of him nearly takes your breath away. He is beautiful as he always is, hair ruffled and mussed from undoubtedly running his hands through it compulsively. His lips are pink from biting on them and the dark circles under his eyes tells you of the dreams he has deprived himself of. 
Jungkook is painfully gorgeous and painfully not yours. 
“Y/N...I sent you a text earlier.” His voice is saccharine but the words taste so bitter. 
“I know. I read it”, you murmur, shrinking in on yourself. 
“I....Can we talk, Jungkook?” 
His eyes dart around nervously at your question, chewing on his bottom lip and tapping the toe of his shoe as if he was impatient and you were bothering him. And you have known that simply being around Jungkook hurts but the light at the end of the tunnel only continues dwindling. 
You understand why he is acting so restless when your gaze drifts past him and into the room. There is a girl perched on a stool, across from a canvas and easel that you know awfully well. You don’t recognize her but it’s only in your nature to begin comparing every aspect of yourself to this stranger. She sits on her hands and swings her legs back and forth, head in the clouds and eyes trailing the ceiling. She isn’t aware of the weight of her presence in the studio, nor the turmoil she has brought to you, who is standing just outside the door. 
The oxygen in the hallway thins and the breath you’ve been waiting to release since knocking catches in your throat. Coming here, you prepared yourself for a long and inevitably heart-wrenching talk with your soulmate. But you hadn’t prepared for the possibility that he had replaced you overnight. 
The only thought that blares through your mind is that this is your fault. For letting yourself think you were worth more to Jeon Jungkook than any other stranger. You can no longer find it in yourself to be angry at him. Just yourself. 
“You…”, you gulp down a whimper, “you replaced me.” 
Jungkook follows your vacant stare past him and sighs, realizing you had most likely deducted what this scene looked like. You would be right. Between the weeks of trying to understand what you were to him and the impending due date of the portfolio, Jungkook was sure the best way to move past this confusion was to just speed full steam ahead. That meant finding another muse. You were no longer an option.
You only stare down at the floor, but Jungkook begins speaking anyway. 
“Y/N, I…I’m sorry.” You scoff at his words, feigning anger when inside, you truly didn’t know if you could piece yourself back together this time. 
“Look, Y/N. It’s not you. It’s just that…”, he breathes deep, not knowing why it was so hard to say. “I’ve stopped believing soulmates were truly a thing a long time ago. I’m sorry.” 
It’s not the first time you’ve heard these words but it doesn’t mean they hurt any less.
“I didn’t want to initiate anything, Y/N, but you did and I let you and that was my fault to let anything start. I shouldn’t have when I knew nothing would come of it.”
It was a fault to him. It never should have happened. 
“So you just thought you would kiss me and decide that I meant nothing to you afterwards?”
“It was a mistake.” It was painful to think it but when you hear Jungkook say it, you experience a new kind of ache. A humorless chuckle bubbles past your throat.
 “I really thought you would grow to love me. Now I know it’s not your fault that I’m a complete fool. To fall head over heels for my soulmate who wishes he had never even met me. Much less share a mark.” 
You can see Jungkook’s eyes widen at your confession, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It was the truth. He deserved to hear it. 
“You shouldn’t. You can’t.” He reaches up to pull at his hair frustratedly.
“Can’t what, Jungkook? Love you? You think I want to be in love with someone who wishes I didn’t exist?” You hate your voice for breaking, but its impossibly painful when he does nothing to deny your statement. 
“What do you want me to say, Y/N? What can I say to make this better?”
Try: I love you too.
“I don’t need you to say anything you don’t mean, Jungkook.” 
“Then shouldn’t you leave?”
Jeon Jungkook is cruel even when he doesn’t mean to be. There is oblivion in his gaze, and his question is one of genuine curiosity. But it still stabs you exactly where your heart is most tender. Yes, I should have left. 
“I guess I thought you were worth the pain, Jungkook. When you pushed me away and wanted nothing to do with me, I thought you were worth hurting for just to try a little more. Worth the uncertainty of being around you but never getting to actually be with you”, you numbly mutter, uncaring about the rivulets of tears down your face. Not like it wasn’t something he’s never seen before. There is more to come on the tip of your tongue, and Jungkook stays quiet to let you speak. There is conflict in his vision, but you don’t want to give yourself the false hope that he cares for you. 
Look where that has gotten you before. 
“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”
Saying the words are revelation for you as much as it is for him. All this time, you’ve been running away from the truth in the pursuit of your soulmate. You hadn’t realized that the chase led you astray. 
“And I know that loving me is not easy. I’m…”, you force the words out so he can at least hear your turmoil by his hands. “I’m never really good enough for anyone. Why did I expect that I would be good enough for you?” 
Jungkook’s expression crumples into a frown. “Y/N, no, that’s not what I mean-”
“You don’t have to tell me what you mean, Jungkook. I meet you and the first thing you say is that you don’t believe in such a thing. I try to get close to you and all you know to do is push me away. And I try so hard to be enough but how can I when Yoojung still has your heart? So you don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” You’ve stopped crying but the ache relents, and you can only look desperately at the boy who’s slipping from your grasp with every passing second. 
“I’m sorry.” The message is redundant.
“I can’t…” Rip off the bandaid. 
“I just can’t love you.”
The words make their way past his lips before he can stop them, and they shoot through your core ruthlessly. A sharpened dagger to soft flesh. It manifests itself in a physical pain that reverberates across your chest, and when the last strength left in you is used to stare at Jungkook through a pained and teary gaze, you are deaf to everything but those four words.
I can’t love you.
I can’t love you. 
I can’t love you. 
You’re not sure what he is sorry for at this point. If Jungkook is apologizing for not loving you, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry for entertaining the possibility, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry that you are the one with a crescent moon on your wrist, well...you don’t blame him either. All your life you cherished it like some kind of gift from the universe. Now, nursing your crumbling soul in front of Jungkook, you wish it had never appeared in the first place. 
You shake your head, tucking your lip in between your teeth to stop the sob in your chest from escaping. Through the crack of the door Jungkook hadn’t shut fully, the girl was still there, patiently sitting where you were supposed to and making herself scarce after inevitably hearing you bare your heart to a boy who had no interest in it. 
Humiliation goes hand in hand with heartbreak, and the embarrassment that comes with confessing your love and insecurity urges your feet to run home. But even you cannot deprive yourself of looking at him one more time. 
His wavy head of hair. The scar on his cheekbone that makes him look even more beautiful, if that were possible. The gloss in his dark brown eyes, and the way he looks at you through stone cold walls. You commit it to memory, however painful, before you walk out of his life. 
“Be happy, Jungkook.” 
You truly mean it. 
 The sound of your footsteps getting farther away from him is a sound Jungkook thinks he’ll remember for a long time. It almost prompts him to run after you, cradle you to his chest, and profess how sorry he is again and again until you can truly feel the sincerity. But he doesn’t. Only remains behind the self-procured walls and watches when your figure disappears down the hallway. 
Cold. Unbothered. Indifferent. That’s what he had always told himself when it came to you. But the hallway feels so lonely and the ghost of your presence feels even lonelier, and Jungkook wonders if he had been wrong. 
He walks back into the studio, permanent frown on his face and shoulders hunched over in stress. The paintbrush feels like a stranger rather than an extension of his arm, as it always does, but Jungkook begins painting anyway. Looking at the girl in front of him, he is reminded of the look on your face when you realized he had replaced you completely in the span of three weeks, without even giving you a notice. Her presence in his art studio suddenly feels entirely suffocating. 
“Mina, Get out.” 
“What?”
“Get out of my studio. I don’t need you as a model, anymore. Thanks.” His voice cut through the tension of the room, like a hot knife to butter. He recognizes it as the voice he always forces himself to use around you, and grows even more aggravated. 
The girl scoffs annoyedly, snatching her handbag from the floor and rushing out of the room. Obviously she had thought something more was to come from Jungkook’s art arrangement. He made sure to let her know that was not the case. 
There is a gnawing in his chest. Deep and subtle, but it becomes more prominent as the window view from his studio turns from blue to black. He ponders about spending the night in here, instead of going home to his bedroom where he is forced to consult with the agony of solitude. On top of everything today, Jungkook doesn’t think he can handle that. 
Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the pain in your face when he tells you that he can’t love you and he hears the shaking in your voice when you tell him the things that weighed on your soul. He thought the word “wither” was only reserved for flowers. Jungkook didn’t realize a person could wither until he saw it right in front of him. 
In truth, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he could love you or not. And to Jungkook, that was already a feat in itself. He’s spent so many months convincing himself that his emotional fortress was impregnable. So many nights over whiskey bottles telling himself that love was only for fools and pretenders. To be uncertain about love, now, well...that’s something he is not yet ready to admit to himself. Much less admit to you. But letting you any closer was a fatal game. 
Being uncertain about love means being uncertain about getting hurt. Jungkook has a feeling he wouldn’t make it out in one piece if his heart fell into wrong hands. 
He does end up returning to his apartment that night. But the walk feels far too long and the air feels far too frigid, or perhaps is it because he can’t hear the tread of your footsteps beside him? 
Whatever the reason, tonight feels more lonely.
The stars tell him it’s because he does not like the person he’s alone with. 
Back in room 62B, there is an abandoned painting on a rickety easel. He hadn’t even had the will to wash out his paintbrush, and he’s sure he’ll pay for it the next day. Looking at the piece now, his professor would tell him that there’s too many colors. Too much contrast and nearly not enough depth in his strokes. But what was he to do when he had kicked out his new model and couldn’t get the image of your visible heartbreak out of his brain? 
A familiar wrist with a quaint crescent moon sits on the canvas, and he sure as hell didn’t use Mina as the inspiration. Jungkook reminds himself to throw out the painting tomorrow morning. 
The grease on Jimin’s skillet pan is always so hard to clean. The dish soap never truly cuts through the oil, and no matter how much you rinse it over with scalding water, it still feels soiled. On a normal day, it wouldn’t frustrate you so much. Today, a month-and-a-half after your soulmate made it clear to you that you had no place in his life, you want to throw the pan out the window and cry on the kitchen floor until it collapses with the weight of your tears. 
You settle for throwing down the sponge and making Jimin wash his own dishes.
The phone-that you usually now tend to ignore-buzzes on the counter, and you groan at your complete lack of desire to answer it. But the screen lights up with your roommate’s name and you hit the green button. 
“Y/N! How are you feeling, lovebug?” Jimin’s cheerful tone on speakerphone makes you want to cry. You can only imagine how terrible it is for him to be your roommate when all you know how to do now is mope and cry about a boy who probably hasn’t thought about you since. But he’s been holding you through all your breakdowns, and even sets up the air mattress on the floor of your bedroom when some nights are a little bit harder than most. 
“I’ve had better days”, you glare at the pan in the sink. “What’s up?’
“So I have a friend…”
“Jimin, no.” 
He sighs over the phone understandingly, but still not satisfied. “I know it’s only been a month Y/N, but it doesn’t have to be anything. He’s not looking for anything serious either. But maybe it would be good for you to take your mind off things.” 
It’s been a month. Four weeks. Roughly 31 days, and you still remember every word he said to you in the hallway of the art building. Every pause and quiver of his breath, and the way he looked so completely indifferent to your pain. Was one month enough for you to let go even after finding out Jungkook never planned to hold on in the first place?
“Look, you don’t have to decide now. I’m sorry for pushing you if you’re not ready.” His mumbling is apologetic and it makes you realize that Jimin genuinely means well. Maybe you weren’t ready to move on from Jungkook yet. Maybe you never will be. He was your damn soulmate, after all. But maybe a distraction couldn’t hurt.
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’ll do it.” 
You can practically feel him smiling like an idiot over the phone. “Really?!” You sigh into the speaker and Jimin knows better to continue talking before you change your mind.
“His name is Namjoon, he works with me at the office. Super cute. Super hot. Super smart. Checks all your boxes!”, he rambles on about the nitty gritty details and though a part you is proud that you’re making the decision to move on with life, you can’t help but to realize that no one will ever be able to “check all your boxes”.
Not if they’re not Jungkook. 
“He sounds great, Jimin.” Anyone can tell your happiness is disingenuous, even through the phone. Jimin tells you that he had already planned a date (without your knowledge), and sends you on your way with a quick goodbye when his taxi arrives. The silence of the apartment after the conversation leaves you feeling even more weighted, but hopeful for the possibility of a distraction. You had a feeling you won’t be able to forget the likes of Jeon Jungkook if you tried. But, if only for a night, you were to forget the pain of loving him, you’ll take that chance. 
“What do you mean they all ‘feel the same’?” Jungkook is exasperated. He had drafted a complete version of his portfolio, working through the nights by the sweat of his brow. Now his professor was telling him that all his pieces felt the same and Jungkook thinks he might commit arson to the art studio.
Professor Sejin sighs contemplatively, taking off his glasses and throwing them on the table, all too familiar with Jungkook’s periodic art tantrums. 
“I mean that your pieces lack any variegation. The portfolio is well done and coherent, but the completed package is one-noted. It’s consistent. But too much so.”
Professor Sejin’s words make him fall back into the chair dejectedly, shoulders slumped and disappointment in his eyes at the critique of his art. Though it is hard to hear, Jungkook always welcomes productive criticism. The older man sympathizes with his downcast eyes and the visible stress on his back. 
“Look, Jungkook”, he affirms sincerely, “you just need to find some dynamic. Something to make people know that you can do more than one tone of art.” It’s obvious that the professor has a soft spot for the boy in front of him, who looks like his entire world is collapsing. The portfolio folder is handed back to him and Jungkook has the urge to burn it and not hear the word “gallery” again in the next decade. 
“I have faith in you. You’ll figure out what it is that you’re missing.” The smile on the man’s face is congenial. Genuine. And even though he has an ambitious amount of work to do, Jungkook finds the will to nod, haul himself off the office chair, and begin the trek back to his studio. 
The pinnacle of spring is approaching and the sun shines brighter with each morning. Not that he would know or care. He’s spent the last month locking himself inside, dedicating every fluid ounce of energy towards completing his project. It’s been surprisingly easier, and Jungkook finds himself finishing paintings, sketches, and sculptures with ease. Like untapped inspiration had revealed itself to him suddenly. Yet it still wasn’t enough...at least not according to Professor Sejin. 
Headphones drown out the cacophony of hustlers and bustlers with the laughter of children as accompaniment. He doesn’t allow himself to enjoy the music of the city. Not anymore. It gives him too much space to think, and Jungkook has a feeling that’s not good for anyone and definitely not good for him. 
The sight of a familiar bakery with particularly delicious apple strudels is enough to stop him in his rush, feet winding down until he is standing outside, staring at the door and wondering if he could go in without being reminded of you. Well, it might be too late for that anyhow, but further signs of protest are halted when he hears his growling stomach. 
Jungkook had morbidly underestimated your presence in the memory of his favorite cafe. You are everywhere. He sees your smiling face when he looks up at the chalkboard menu, soul vying for you to be next to him and excitedly choosing a new fru-fru drink that would undoubtedly have excessive sugar. He hears your giggles ruminating through the cafe while the other patrons only hear the music over loudspeaker. He practically feels you near, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s better this way. No one gets hurt this way. 
Jungkook plops himself at a corner table and buries his face in his hands, fingertips soothing over his pulsing eyebags and wrinkles he’s gotten from sleep deprivation. He desperately needs an espresso shot. Or five. 
“Hey…”, a voice makes him snap his head up. Jungkook recognizes the stranger as the owner’s son, who always stands guard at the cash register. The tag on his lapel reads Kim Seokjin, and Jungkook has a distant memory of you gushing over how nice Seokjin’s hair was. He had acted unbothered back then, but Jungkook would die before telling a soul that he was annoyed and jealous when you thought the cashier was cute. 
“Jungkook, right?”. He has a kind smile and a natural air of invitation. Jungkook nods. 
“I’ve seen you around a lot. Where’s that girl you always come here with?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business”, he nearly hisses, antsy at the mere mention of you. He instantly regrets it though. Seokjin looks like he’s been cornered with a blunt weapon, and it makes Jungkook sigh at his own asshole-ishness. 
“I’m sorry”, he mumbles, “just not a good day. At all.” 
There is a pause and hesitation before the boy speaks. “Do you...wanna talk about it?” Seokjin’s question is met with silence. 
There is a predictability about Jeon Jungkook. He doesn’t open himself up to anyone. He pretends that he doesn’t have problems so well, people start to become convinced. He avoids new connections like it’s the plague. But there is something so idiosyncratic about Kim Seokjin that makes him want to talk. Makes him want to trust a complete stranger. 
So Jungkook nods, depositing his black backpack besides him and lets himself breathe deep. 
“Her name is Y/N….”
In the lukewarm air of the café, Jungkook tells Seokjin about you. About the tiny crescent moon on your wrist that identically matches his - even unwraps his cloth to show it - and how he pushed you away hard enough to put an ocean’s worth of distance between the two of you. He tells Seokjin about Yoojung and the stars on her skin that have been plaguing him since the day she left. He tells him about that damn portfolio that refuses to be finished; one that he apparently has to start over because Professor goddamn Sejin says it's too boring. He allows himself to unload, and wow is it easier to breathe when you talk about your feelings. Jungkook reminds himself to do that more often. 
The “conversation” seems to stretch for hours (if a conversation can be considered one person unleashing all their hidden baggage on the other while they sit in silence). Jin listens intently through the entire ordeal, offering occasional nods and encouragement for him to continue. When Jungkook finally finishes with a deep breath, falling back on the chair looking completely worn out, Jin fixes him with a hot tea before speaking.
“The portfolio is important to you, Jungkook. If it’s important to you, you’ll find a way. Something tells me that you’re not one to give up so easily”, he quips with a playful lilt in his voice. Jin’s genuine faith in him makes Jungkook believe in himself.
“And as for Yoojung, well, I can’t speak on your pain. You are the only one that narrates your experiences but as much as she seems like a villain in your story, perhaps she has opened a door.” Jungkook thinks his voice sounds far too wise to be coming from a guy in his 20’s.
“Would you have known how to nurse a broken heart had it not been for her? I’m sorry she did that to you, Jungkook, but..Yoojung is your past. And I see so much in your future.” 
Jungkook only stares into the abyss of his tea cup. The reflection that stares back is someone he desperately wants to learn to love. When he looks up again, there is a sad glimmer in Seokjin’s gaze. Something so despondent that he feels second-hand pain. 
Jin pulls up the sleeve of his knit sweater. On his wrist sits a faded marigold, so blanched it almost blends in with his skin and makes him wonder if it will just disappear one day. Jungkook feels his blood run cold.
“It’s been two years since she died”, he stares solemnly at his skin, “I don’t think a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her.” 
Jungkook’s thought about his soulmate mark disappearing before. Even hoped and prayed for it the days after Yoojung left. But now, when he sees it up close on Seokjin’s wrist, Jungkook doesn’t want to wish that loneliness upon anyone. 
“She was so damn...persistent”, Jin laughs, fondness dripping in every word. “Like your Y/N in that way, I suppose. She had a goal and was hell-bent on achieving it. She was so kind and strong and much more of a badass than I could ever be. I loved that about her.” There is sorrow in his voice when he uses the past tense, and Jungkook feels even worse for pouring his heart out about his very alive soulmate. 
“She was studying to be a doctor, you know? Ironic that even the best doctors couldn’t have saved her in the end.” His sentence trails off and he loses focus gazing out the window, fidgeting with the ring on his left hand with a faraway look in his eyes. 
“I don’t mean to ramble about my dead soulmate for no reason, Jungkook. And I’m in no position to tell you what you should or should not do regarding Y/N. But if I could restart this life with my soulmate, there wouldn’t be one second I would waste not at her side.” Jin’s tone is not accusatory or convicting. Just honest.
“It’s normal to be scared and apprehensive. Hell, I would be more concerned if you weren’t going into it with a shit ton of skepticism. I was terrified. Yet out of the billions of people that could’ve had my mark on their wrist, just knowing that she was that one was enough for me to love her.”
The cup of tea has long gone cold. Jungkook only manages to stare at the mahogany table, thoughts too heavy to voice aloud, so Jin continues. 
“I think I would give anything to know that such a person still exists for me. Someone out there that was chosen by an unknown, cosmic force for an unexplainable reason just for me. To see a mark that matches my own. Well…”, Jin breathes deeply, tears welling in his eyes but not falling, “I think that must be the most wonderful thing in the entire world.”
Seokjin’s words stick with him long after he has departed from the café. Long after the tea has settled in his stomach along with the weight of what a soulmate means to this stranger whose life story he has learned in the course of an evening. 
Even so, Jungkook’s not sure what he should feel. The fear of vulnerability still feels like a designated thundercloud above his head, and the thought of letting you past his walls makes Jungkook want to run the other way.
At the same time, the trepidation doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. It’s still there, and he can’t pinpoint exactly what happened but when he sees your smiling face behind his eyelids, Jungkook doesn’t feel scared. When he focuses on what you look like under sunlight, or your eyes staring at him through a camera lens, there is no fear of the broken heart you could leave him with. Just something warm. Something that feels an awful lot like...love?
 But what does Jungkook know about such things? 
He shrugs it off his shoulders, and readies himself for a night of inevitably restless sleep. He blames it on the impending due date of his beloved portfolio, but really, it is you. You and your insistence on trying every single coffee shop in the city. You and your convoluted idea of a date; letting your partner choose the location with their eyes closed. You and…
Just everything about you. 
He falls asleep well into 4am. The thin strap of cloth sits on his bedside table. Even if it is only for the night sky to see, Jungkook lets his soulmate mark breathe. 
It’s been so long since you’ve dressed up or cleaned up to go out anywhere, the reflection that stares back feels like a stranger. You’ve opted for a bold red lip, meticulously applying your makeup so that even the wing of your eyeliner was sharp enough to kill. Jimin forced you to curl your hair too, of course. The girl in the mirror looks beautiful. You know that she is beautiful.
So why is it that you can only see the face that is not enough for Jeon Jungkook? A person that he is unable to love. No, not even foundation can cover the face of longing.
“Y/N”, Jimin sing-songs, “hurry! You don’t wanna be late do you?” No, you don’t want to be late. You want to not go. Maybe retreat to your bedroom and cry the night away again. But you won’t tell him that when he is so clearly ecstatic that you’re spending a night out for the first time in months. 
The restaurant looks like it is entirely out of your budget. Well, you reckon any restaurant is out of your budget with all the debt that looms overhead and your painfully apparent unemployment. Waiting for Namjoon is less than exhilarating, and you spend the time fiddling with your bracelet that conveniently covers the crescent moon. These days, you can’t bear to look at it anymore. Your eyes are glued to the little mark, before a voice sounds from across the table.
“Sorry I’m late, traffic was insane. You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” You weren’t sure what you expected Kim Namjoon to look like but were pleasantly surprised. Namjoon looks like he takes care of himself, neat and clean and sporting a very shiny watch that looks like 4 months’ worth of rent. 
“And you must be Namjoon. Likewise.” 
When he pulls out the chair to sit down, you can’t help but to notice the cloud on his wrist. It was smaller than yours but you had no doubt it felt just as heavy. If Namjoon felt your gaze on his skin, he did nothing to show it. 
“Hey, I know I just got here but…”, he sighs and takes a look around the room, “do you wanna get out of here? Find the cheapest and greasiest food we can?” His request makes you smile, and you grab the purse that rested on the table. 
“Namjoon, I think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet.” 
You and Namjoon manage to find a diner that wasn’t far from the fancy restaurant, and you thank the skies that you didn’t have to pay $50 for a salad tonight. Just some pocket change for quite possibly the best and oiliest hamburger you’ve ever had. 
By conversation that happens through mouthfuls of food and faces smeared with milkshake residue, you come to learn that Namjoon is an unsurprisingly nice guy. He studies poetry, but is working as a secretary at an office, hence his connection to Jimin. He loves to garden and talks about his bonsai plants to you like they’re his kids, even pulling up pictures on his phone and gazing down at them fondly. It makes you smile. He plays the piano, and likes to take long bike rides when the weather permits. 
It’s nice to have someone reciprocate your effort. It’s something you haven’t experienced in a long time, all credit to one Jeon Jungkook. Namjoon is warm in all the corners where Jungkook is cold. 
In a word, he is pretty damn perfect. And if he had a crescent moon on his wrist, you probably wouldn’t bat an eye or have a lick of doubt in the universe. He encompasses everything you want, so alike you in so many aspects it makes you wary. If Namjoon had your matching soulmate mark, you would already be in love with him. 
But he doesn’t. And that thought alone keeps you from feeling anything but platonicity. He is not Jungkook. You don’t think anyone can make you feel the way Jungkook does. You want to curse the stars for making this so. 
It’s well into the night, and you both remain planted in the diner booth, chatting and chuckling over a plate of french fries. It’s when you drift off while he’s talking about his latest attempt at focaccia that Namjoon sighs and sits back in the seat. 
“What?”, you confusedly ask after he suddenly stops speaking.
He smiles. Stays silent for a couple seconds. Then speaks. 
“So what did your soulmate do to you?”
His question catches you off guard and you can only stare at him, frown on your face and words lost on your tongue. 
“You’ve been staring into space every 5 minutes this whole night, and fidgeting with your bracelet so much I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off”, he explains, tenderness and sympathy in his tone. 
“Every time I speak, you have this sad look in your eyes and I have a feeling you’re imagining someone else’s face, Y/N. I’ve enjoyed talking to you...a lot. But I can tell you want to be somewhere else so”, Namjoon places his elbows on the table and gazes at you endearingly, “tell me about your soulmate.” 
You stare at Namjoon through shocked eyes, glistening with the onset of tears that you manage to keep from escaping. Gosh, you were pathetic. Already wanting to cry at the mere mention of him. Or maybe the fact that someone could see through your facade. You take a deep breath. 
“His name is Jeon Jungkook.” Your voice quivers, and Namjoon continues listening intently. You are reluctant to continue because you know that once this conversation begins, there is a chance you might have to confront yourself again with the pain of loving someone who doesn’t want love. You internally apologize to Namjoon in advance, for you might cry on this first date. 
“I…I’m completely head over heels in love with him  but after everything, I’m not sure I have the slightest clue what love is. Because what sane person can fall in love with a person who has made it clear that that love wouldn’t be reciprocated from the get go?”
You fiddle with the plastic straw in your milkshake, searching for the courage to go on and tell him about every thought that you have denied yourself the satisfaction of verbalizing. 
“He loves apple strudels, you know. Eats them every time like they’re the last apple strudels he’ll ever have and he doesn’t give a damn who’s watching”, you chuckle, gaze drifting off to space. There is a fondness in your eyes as you speak, and Namjoon does not miss it. 
“He’s as punctual as the day is long. One time I was late to a photoshoot and he almost made me cry lecturing me about the importance of being on time. But now I’m never late.” 
The memory makes you, as well as Namjoon, smile. 
“He paints like his life depends on it, and he’ll get oil paint on his face without noticing and sometimes I just want to reach out and wipe it off. But I think he’d murder me on the spot.”
“How come?”, Namjoon offers his first words in the midst of your monologue. You’re not sure what to say next. 
“Well...I think Jeon Jungkook might be the coldest person I’ve ever met”, you dejectedly sigh. Reality tastes bitter even with remnants of whipped cream on your lips. 
“Every time I was around him, it felt like I was willingly breaking my own heart just for the chance to know that he was next to me. That in this entire world of billions of people, the one with the same moon on their wrist was next to me. And...I guess I didn’t really need him to love me yet”, your gaze locks onto Namjoon and you find he is already staring at you with utmost curiosity and subtle pity. 
“Jungkook alone was enough. I just wish he could have felt the same about me.” 
Perhaps the reason why the truth is so painful to speak is because people have a tendency to run from it. Then when it catches up to you, it’s a harsh trip and fall to the rocky ground. There is no cushion when you land. 
Namjoon doesn’t offer advice. Doesn’t dish his own experiences to relate to your own or even make any comments from his perspective. He just sits and listens in silence, but it doesn’t feel like he is disregarding you. No, his eyes tell you that he soaks in every word. You hope you’ll get the chance to do the same for him...if he ever decides to share his story with you. 
The two of you leave the diner with a prospective to be friends, and no plans of a future second date. You had a strong feeling that spending the entire evening talking about your unrequited soulmate love had something to do with that. Nevertheless, though Namjoon didn’t work out as a distraction, you were glad to have met him. It made you realize something.
Even if Jimin thought you were ready to move on. Even if you thought you were ready to forget. It might be a lifetime before you finally let go of that boy.
The morning reeks of rain and dew, humidity nearly clawing its way through his window and turning his apartment into a swamp. When he wakes up, it is not to his blaring alarm clock, but the uncomfortable sensation of a sweaty shirt sticking to his back. Jungkook groans, already tired of this day. It seems hopeless from the beginning. 
As much as he wanted to stay home and crank up the air conditioner so much that his landlord would come running, Professor Sejin’s voice reverberates through his eardrums.
You art is too one-noted, Jungkook.
Be better, Jungkook.
You’re talentless and will never succeed, Jungkook. 
Of course, these are not Professor Sejin’s verbatim, more so Jungkook’s own mind that twists his teacher’s constructive criticism into something else. He is a master at feeding his insecurity.
Jungkook chugs down a lukewarm cup of black coffee, and his stomach growls for something with a little more sugar and maybe a dash of rainbow colored sprinkles. He guesses he has you to thank for that. The art studio is always a daily destination, and this day is no different. Jungkook has a plan to dedicate himself to fixing his portfolio and maybe finish that clay piece he never got around to. 
The studio is too cold for his liking; Jungkook can’t remember how many times he has begged the superintendent to lower the AC. The cold he can deal with. The loneliness, however, is a different story. Jungkook is always alone. Alone when he’s in his apartment. Alone when he’s in class. Alone when he’s in the art room. These days, aloneness feels more haunting when he knows he had the option to escape it, but chose to stay. A part of him is ready to admit that it’s because of you. 
Jungkook hums a random melody that had been stuck in his head since the morning, fingers gliding over the slick sculpting clay. The days are easier now. He doesn’t think about you so much when the sun is out and there is the bustling of the busy city to distract him. The nights, however, are just as difficult as they have been. Jungkook’s last drifting thought is of you, and your face torturously carries over to each dream. Like his entire being misses you but he refuses to accept it. 
He takes a deep sigh in relief once the sculpture feels finished. Professor Sejin wanted something more dynamic, so there: his very own realist clay piece drawing inspiration from Praxiteles’ sculpture of Aphrodite. He sits back in pride, admiring his own handiwork and giving himself a mental pat on the back. It looks great. Perfect even. It looks….
It looks like you. 
Jungkook pales at the realization as the clay face stares back at him. No, this was supposed to be Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love, inspired by the ancient Greek artist that sculpted her. Then why does she have your nose? Those eyes are definitely your’s and even those cheeks are identical. Jungkook hadn’t even realized that in the rhythm of his art, he got lost and accidentally sculpted your face instead. 
He walks away from the clay table and hurriedly yanks off the soiled apron around his waist, confusion swimming in every cell of his body. How had he just...made a sculpture of you? With no knowledge that he was doing it?
Jungkook leans with his back against the sink, staring down at the floor with furrowed brows and a thundering heart. With a sudden epiphany, Jungkook leaps from his position and pulls out all the canvases, printed photographs, graphite drawings, and clay pieces he’s made for the past few months. Everything he can grab in the small studio space. 
It is then that he comes to the daunting realization:
Holy shit.
Professor Sejin was right.
 Everything feels the same. His whole portfolio has one note and no dynamic or diversity because...well, because all of his pieces are of you. Not you, necessarily, but your breath has come alive on his art in some way, shape, or form. 
The multimedia painting he made two weeks ago using polystyrene sheets was supposed to mimic sunlight through a stained glass window, but Jungkook hadn’t even noticed he'd drawn the window of the café you dragged him to on its opening day. And the colors of the glass is just the twinkle of your eyes when they stare back into his. 
The photoset he spent hours taking around the city, after taking a 15 minute train ride, were just repeats of all the places you two went to that one day. The book store. The park. The streetlight where Yoojung stopped him. He hadn’t even realized he only saved the photos associated with a subconscious memory of you. 
Jungkook can’t explain it, but he feels you in every single picture. Every piece of art that his hands have manifested since you walked into his life, stupid smile on your face and that little moon on your wrist. He feels it...and call it artist’s intuition or something but perhaps that’s why Professor Sejin could feel it too. 
Even though he stopped making you his muse months ago, you are still the root of inspiration for whatever he’s produced since. And if that’s not enough to finally tell him what he needs to hear. Finally make him realize that he’s fallen in love with you without even knowing it, the universe doesn’t know what will. 
The minutes it has been since he realized your place in his life melts like slow dripping honey, feeling like an eternity when it is mere moments. Jungkook regains his focus in the haze. He knows what you mean to him now, but there was something he had to fo first. 
He swipes all his paintbrushes and palette knives to the side, sweat on his brow as he furiously rearranges his portfolio. He takes out the pictures of Mina - no one would miss them anyway - and trashes all the photos he took before he met you. He only uses the art he’s created post-Y/N and tucks them in the manila folder so rapidly, there’s paper cuts on his fingers. But he doesn’t feel them. Jungkook has only one objective. 
He snaps a picture of the new clay sculpture he’s just finished. The photo goes into the portfolio with the name ‘Aphrodite’, but Jungkook knows better about whose face that truly belongs to. Not that anyone would bat an eye. He thinks you are as beautiful as the goddess herself. 
The trip to Professor Sejin’s office is short, unsurprising though, since Jungkook sprints the whole way there. When he arrives, and the professor can only stare as he’s bent over and huffing violently trying to catch his breath, Jungkook reminds himself to spend less time at the studio and more time on the cardio. 
He throws the portfolio onto the man’s desk unceremoniously, nearly collapsing on the chair across from him and not ready to speak yet. Professor Sejin confusedly rifles through the folder quickly, too quickly, and sighs, ready to offer Jungkook yet the same critique again. 
He opens his mouth, but Jungkook cuts him off. 
“Before you say anything…”, he gulps, finally ready to admit the truth to himself. 
“I want you to know that I’ve met my soulmate, a-and there’s a reason why you feel that my portfolio is all the same. There’s a reason why you feel it’s all one-noted or that there’s no progression.” Jungkook takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and you are there behind his lids. 
“It’s because she sowed the seeds for all of them. Everything. Those paintings and photos and sculptures are just symptoms of what I’ve been feeling this whole time after meeting her. She’s practically the artist, not me.” Professor Sejin stays silent at his monologue, gaze unreadable but eyes sharp and trained solely on Jungkook. 
“Maybe...Maybe art doesn’t need to be super variegated all the time. Maybe it’s supposed to be a cohesive unit and the pieces should string to each other. Maybe paintings should have a relationship to photos and them, to sculptures. Maybe you’re just...wrong.” 
He is exasperated and passion flows out of him through every pore. Jungkook looks expectantly at his professor, who has the open folder in his hand and still in the process of taking in his words. When the adrenaline starts to fade, he realizes that he just dissed his venerable teacher. 
“With all due respect…”, he coughs, “sir.” 
Professor Sejin lets Jungkook spend the next couple minutes in complete torturous silence so that he can finish reviewing his portfolio. The tension is cut with the sound of the man’s hands slapping together as he closes the folder. Jungkook prepares himself for a stern lecture.
However, when he looks up, there is a smile on the man’s face. There’s no malice there, or even disdain. He pulls off his glasses, sets them on the table, and sits back in the office chair, arms folded over his chest. Jungkook can feel his heart threatening to pound past his rib cage. 
“Jungkook…”, Professor Sejin declares, “I think you’ve got a contender for the gallery spot.” 
If someone had asked you what Jeon Jungkook meant to you, you would look them in the eye and tell them that he meant nothing. Because it’s easier to pretend that someone does not mean anything to you after they pretend that you do not exist. That the universe had not given you both matching marks and deemed that your souls were meant for each other. Jeon Jungkook is a stranger to you. One that you wanted so badly to love. But you’ve come to learn that no matter how hard you try; you can’t love someone who doesn’t want to love at all.
So the days trickle by as they usually do. Painstakingly slow and viscous with memories of a boy named Jeon Jungkook and the way he has hurt you enough to last a little bit over forever. 
“I understand why you don’t want to go, Y/N. But aren’t you the least bit curious? Especially after that fancy invitation in the mail?” Jimin’s query is innocent. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make your blood boil. 
“I don’t know...the thought of going to my soulmate’s grand art gallery when the last time we spoke, he told me he can’t love me, just doesn’t seem appealing Jimin”, you snark, burying your face into the bowl of cereal you are now spooning far too aggressively. 
“But...it’s been months. And he wouldn’t have sent you an invitation if he didn’t want you to come.” 
This conversation has happened too frequently since that red envelope arrived at your apartment. You cried your eyes out when you opened it, both out of pride for Jungkook and the fact that no matter what you did, the universe found a way to keep you from moving on. 
A sigh heaves through your chest, and the cereal is abandoned by your loss of appetite. “I’m not going to show up there and have him tell me again all of the reasons he can’t be with me. I barely survived it last time.” 
“But what if, Y/N?”
There is a glimmer in Jimin’s eye and he radiates so much hopefulness for you, you can’t help but to feel it too. 
“Isn’t the what if already enough? You used to tell me that Jungkook was worth anything. Isn’t he worth the risk this time too?”
You don’t have anything else to say after that because as much as you hate to admit, perhaps Jimin is right. Jungkook is worth going through anything for, even if he wants to stay as far away as possible. Call it a fluke in the postal system that the invitation to his gallery landed on your doorstep, but can you allow yourself to read between the lines and dare say that he sent it himself? Can you put yourself through such a perilous thing like optimism?
Jungkook has left you battered and broken for the past months. But you would give your heart to him to break all over again if he asked. 
To say that you did not fit in with those dawdling around the art gallery was a gross understatement. You didn’t just not fit in. Your entire presence and aura defied every expectation, and suddenly, watching the upper echelon of the city mingle with champagne and gaze critically at Jungkook’s art, makes every breath feel like an insecurity. 
The boy in question was nowhere in sight, and you now regret not dragging Jimin with you. The invitation had specifically prohibited plus one’s, and though Jimin whined to no end about his hurt feelings and emptily promised never to talk to Jungkook again, you managed to keep him home. Now, you wish you were back at the apartment with him.
The pieces were, in short, completely breathtaking (to no surprise, of course, this was Jungkook you were talking about). Though you knew he always held doubt in himself, in the short time he allowed you to be in his life, you had never once thought he was anything less than spectacular. Yet you could not allow yourself to completely enjoy them. Each brushstroke and paint color you remember from his palettes, or the filters on the photos that you helped him with, was agonizing to look at. 
You are standing in front of a canvas titled “Windowlight” when a man comes up beside you. He nurses a flute of bubbly champagne and makes no move to gain eye contact. Unknown to you, Professor Sejin knows exactly who you are. He’s seen your face in his student’s portfolio one too many times. 
“Artful use of mixed media, isn’t it?”, he mutters.
“I suppose so.” 
“He’s quite the prodigy. Have you met him yet? I’m sure he’s lurking around somewhere.” The man takes a sip from his glass, smirk on his lips hidden from your eyes that still blankly stare ahead.
“Yes. He’s a...friend.” We share a soulmate mark. He hates my guts. 
He hums a sound of affirmation and you ignore the weird feeling it leaves in your stomach; one that tells you this stranger sees right through you. 
“Ah, how rude of me. Professor Sejin. Arts director and senior advisor.” He spares you a brief glance, but you make no move to shake his hand or pretend to be courteous. You don’t have the energy for it tonight. Just being in this building, surrounded by everything Jungkook has touched, makes you want to collapse into yourself. 
“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He speaks nonchalantly, and you almost miss the fact that you never told him your name. Your brows crease in confusion and you are ready to turn and interrogate the stranger, but he is already walking away, gliding smoothly across the gallery. Before he gets too far, though, Sejin cranes his neck and makes eye contact. 
“Oh, and be sure to visit the one called ‘Moon’. It’s upstairs, next to the Aphrodite sculpture on the second level exhibit”, he entreats, a suspicious lilt in his voice.
“Something tells me you’ll appreciate its…sincerity.”
Honestly, you’re not sure what you expected when you came to Jungkook’s art gallery tonight. But to be approached by a stranger who already knows your name, who dubiously instructs you to seek out a mystery art piece, was not on the list of expectations. Still...Professor Sejin’s words made you curious. 
Through the night, your eyes subconsciously seek out that familiar head of fluffy brown hair and a tall gait that always seems to stick out, even in a large crowd. It was as if Jungkook versed himself in complete camouflage, so much so that you began to doubt that he was even in the building.  
The traipse through the gallery is done in silence and solitude, and you tune out the sounds of popping champagne and raucous laughter coming from the second floor, as the patrons undoubtedly banter over which piece to auction off. You hope he keeps them. You’ve never seen someone appreciate art the way that Jungkook does. 
You catch sight of a few pieces that you recognize, ones that you remember him showing you when he had finished. You always excitedly told him every single one was a masterpiece, and Jungkook only rolled his eyes and made minimal effort at hiding the blush on his cheeks. Your steps falter when you come across a set of photographs in black and white, set in consecutive frames next to each other and it feels so warm despite the lack of color. Jungkook just had that special talent when it came to photography. 
It’s the bookstore. In the city during the impromptu train ride you had coerced him to take. Your heart catches in your throat as you recognize all the other ones immediately because well...you’ve been to all those spots. A familiar pressure builds in the back of your eyes, and you swallow down a whimper of pain. 
The urge to leave becomes too strong. But not strong enough to quell the slow burn of curiosity from Professor Sejin. There is a chance that you might not run into Jungkook at all tonight with the vast space and people bumbling through the corridors. It hurts to think that you might never see him again at all, but you’ll allow yourself another indulgence. Something is calling you. 
Moon. He titled it Moon? You grip onto your wrist reflexively and run your thumb over the mark, like you did when you were younger and still had hope for soulmates. The pulsepoint there beats under your finger and lets you know how alive you are. Compels you to give into your curiosity, even if it might decimate your already crumbling heart. The stairs that lead up to the second floor are short, but the trek feels like it knocks the wind out of you, or perhaps that was just the anticipation of what was waiting for you on the other side.
You were right to be scared. Because right in the smack dab center of the circular room is where you see it, and your gasp is one that can be heard from each wall and corner. 
A painting of you. A portrait from the waist up, with oil paint and so much detail, Jungkook has even managed to line the shallow wrinkles by your eyes when you smile. You have never considered yourself beautiful in any sense but the way he has captured you on canvas starts to make you believe that you truly are. You feel Jungkook in each streak of the brushstroke where he hadn’t spread the color evenly. It is as if the painting is alive, and though you are staring at yourself, it doesn’t feel like the way it does in the mirror. Doesn’t feel like a reflection. 
No, this feels like looking through Jungkook’s eyes. It is what he sees in you, rather than what you see in yourself. And what he sees is beautiful. Through the haze of shock and confusion as to why he chose this as the centerpiece, you don’t notice the warm presence that lurks behind you. The one that has watched your every move since you walked into this building. 
“Yeah, that’s my favorite one too.” 
You whip your head around so quick it nearly gives you whiplash, but the sight of him is the nail in the coffin. Jungkook is cleaned up in a black suit, and an unfamiliar smile on his lips he rarely lets you see. A genuine one that he’s tried to hide so many times but now that it’s clear and up close, you resent him for keeping it from you. 
Jungkook is just as gorgeous as the day you lost him. 
But looking at him hurts. You don’t know why you’re even here, and why he sent the invitation, or why he was standing in front of you now and there is not a sliver of antipathy in his eyes. You don’t know why your face is plastered in the center of the gallery. Most of all, you don’t know why you are still weak in the knees for Jeon Jungkook. 
“Although, I have to say, it was a close race between this one and the pictures I made you take at the lake, when you nearly dunked me in the river because it was so cold”, he breathily laughs but you aren’t able to get through the shock just yet. If Jungkook notices your starstruck state, he doesn’t let it affect him. 
“And I definitely have to give some credit to the one I painted after you told me about your dream”, Jungkook prattles on, “where you were a mermaid who planted peaches under the sea, remember? That’s an honorable mention.” 
These memories make you want to smile but in this moment, the best you can do is try to hold yourself together when your eyes begin to warm with tears. Jungkook stays silent when you do. He notices you haven’t said a word and your gaze refuses to meet his. 
“Why are you doing this, Jungkook?”, you curse yourself when your voice cracks. “Why are you telling me these things? Haven’t you hurt me enough?” Jungkook’s smile drops off his face, and for once, you can see your own pain reflected in his eyes. 
He takes a deep breath, hands hanging limply at his side that itch to wrap themselves around yours. To feel your skin. Feel your mark. 
“I…”, he hesitates in his words, “I remember that day every night when I go to sleep, Y/N. Every time I shut my eyes, I just see your face when I told you I can’t love you, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt such aching before. Not even when she left me.” Jungkook’s voice is tinted with desperation but it just makes your walls rise higher. 
He’s lying to you. Your tongue wants to protest, but he continues. 
“I see you in everything”, Jungkook breathes out, like he is also admitting it to himself. 
“The paintbrushes I can never put down to the black coffee I force myself to drink nowadays because the ones I actually like, the ones with too much whipped cream and vanilla syrup, just reminds me of you.” His brows are knitted, and his feet vie to step closer to your quivering form. But you look like a caged animal about to bolt at any moment. 
“And when I’m reminded of you, I am reminded of…”, he gulps down the fear, “I’m reminded of how I am utterly in love with someone who deserves so much more than what I have put them through.”
The blood that runs through your veins drops to subzero temperatures, and you swear in the split millisecond that you have absorbed what he’s just said, your heart ceases its beating. The world stops turning, and the waves still for a brief moment. You can’t find any words just yet, but Jungkook can see straight through you and your stupefied expression. 
“Y-you’re lying to me, Jungkook. Stop lying.” 
“I’m not lying, please…” Jungkook knows he’s losing you by the second, but he’s promised you he would persist. He just wants you to listen. Wants you to feel how sorry he is, and how his soul screams to be next to your’s. 
“I can’t explain how it happened. Like it was an epiphany. Like someone has been screaming at me and I had been ignoring them, and that someone was my own heart.” Jungkook doesn’t stumble over his words once. He does not stutter because it is the plain white truth. 
“Stop, Jungkook.”
“It’s been knocking on the door of my chest and when I finally let it in, it just yells and shouts ‘oh my god, you’re in love’ and then I realized oh my god, i’m in love. In between painting you and convincing myself that soulmates meant nothing to me, I’ve completely and unquestionably fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 
Jungkook can’t decipher the look on your face. Something between the lines of disbelief and heartbreak, and it makes him want to split at the seams at the pain he’s put you through. How he’s convinced you you’re impossible to love. He vows to make it right again.
“Jungkook-”
“And you’re wrong, you know. You’re not hard to love. Hell, I was dead set on never loving again and you managed to make me so smitten, I can’t paint or draw a damn thing without including some aspect of you in it.” Jungkook steps back and gestures to all the canvases and photos that hang on the wall. 
“Take a look around, Y/N. It’s all you. Every piece.” Once he says it, you finally notice Every piece of art in this room can be traced to you, or a memory you two share. It’s so clear, you don’t know how you missed it before. You feel yourself in the art Jungkook has poured his soul into. Instead of making you feel elated, these words that you’ve been waiting your entire life to hear just ignites the sting. 
“Just stop. Please.” It is only a weak whisper through your lips, and he ignores it. 
“If you can’t forgive me, I get it Y/N. I can’t forgive myself either. But can you just know that you are enough. You are more than what I deserve. And I know you told me to be happy, but there is no way I can possibly do that without you.” 
When your gaze falls to the floor, you notice that his wrist is clean of any bracelets or watches. Come to think of it, this is one of the first times you are seeing it clear and in the flesh. Jungkook doesn’t tell you, but nowadays, he doesn’t allow anything to impede on the sight of the crescent moon.
When your guard is down and you are distracted, he finds the perfect time to finally reach forward and take your hand in his. His touch is gentle when it wraps around your wrist, tugging off the ribbon that circled it, and revealing the matching mark. Your pulse jumps under his fingers, and skips a beat when he runs a thumb over the moon. You are already melting with such simple contact, and you almost allow yourself to succumb. Almost.
It’s as if suddenly his skin was scalding, and you snatch your wrist from his grasp at lightning speed. The tears that have strayed down your face are wiped away as quickly as they came. The surprise on his face is missed by your eyes because before he can comprehend what is happening, you are bolting down the staircase and out the glass doors of the gallery. No, you cannot forgive him yet. What would you do if he hurt you again? You don’t think you would survive. 
You ignore the pain of seeing his art pieces as you run, now that you know you are the muse behind them all. The only noise is the sound of blood rushing in your ears, and you are oblivious to the racket of Jungkook’s shoes clapping against marble flooring as he chases after you, expertly dodging the other patrons and butlers holding trays of champagne. 
And Jungkook? Well, he is oblivious to the complete turmoil that runs through your every nerve. He only sees your back, and not the way you bite your lip painfully to keep the sobs from escaping. Not the way your pain is exhibited clear as day in the crease of your eyebrow and the wrinkle of your nose. 
The air outside is so cold it bites at your nostrils, but makes it easier to breathe. The wind calms the thundering heart in your chest.
He must be lying. There was no way he had a change of heart now, not when he was so rooted in his belief before. There is no virtual possibility, on any plane of existence, on any dimension where Jeon Jungkook has fallen in love with you. 
Right?
The hand that circles around your wrist tightly to keep you from getting any farther tells you that you are wrong. He did come after you. Jungkook’s strength forces you to stop running, but you can’t find the courage to turn around and face him just yet. But you don’t make an effort to pull away, and he takes it as progress.
“You can run if you want, Y/N. You can walk away from me and from us, but don’t doubt that I’ll always be chasing after you. For as long as it takes.” He is panting and speaking through heavy breaths, but you hear him. Loud and clear. 
“I won’t let you leave again. Not like last time.”
There is no malice. No coldness, and for the first time since you’ve met him, his words feel like warm honey instead of monotone ice. He is utterly distraught when you turn around slowly, hesitant like you’re afraid he will break your heart right then and there. 
His heart shatters at the wetness at your waterline, and the way you look up at him; completely vulnerable and scared. 
“Do you promise?” 
There is a lot of weight in your three-word question. It’s not as innocent as meets the eye, and Jungkook knows it. He feels it. When you ask him if he promises, it is an invitation back to you. You are offering him your heart, which he has already broken and bruised, and trusting him to be careful with it this time around. Jungkook already knows he loves you. And if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure this promise remains unbroken. 
“I promise.” 
It’s a commitment. One he used to be terrified of making, but it seems so easy when it’s for you. 
And when you fly forward to wrap your arms around him, Jungkook feels like home. Like the stars twinkle a little brighter and the earth stops spinning for a mere second, just for the two of you. You feel him squeeze you closer, just as tightly, and Jungkook wants to kick himself for depriving you both of a simple thing called love. 
You are here, souls and now bodies intertwined, and Jungkook lets the pain of past hurt fall away. Pain is so miniscule when you are by his side. When you pull back, Jungkook frowns at your red-rimmed eyes, and the tears that still persist. He wipes it away oh so softly, as if you were delicate clay and he, a sculptor. 
“Please don’t cry anymore, princess, it breaks my heart. I’m so sorry.” It is the softest, most sugary tone you’ve ever heard out of him. But hearing affection from his lips makes you feel that perhaps all of this sorrow, this longing, has been worth it. He has been worth it. He always has. 
“I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook’s words are almost as beautiful as he is. 
His lips are familiar when you lean forward and kiss him. Yet they are different. This time, the hands on your waist hold you a bit more carefully, even closer if that were possible. You can feel his thudding heart as it beats against your own, learning to match rhythms with each other, and Jungkook cradles your face in his hand like you are the only artwork he has truly been proud of. 
And it’s true. All the canvases and paints and camera film seem wasted now. Nothing he ever makes will be quite as alluring as the art he holds in his arms in this moment. 
“I love you too, you goddamn idiot.”
You meant it all those months ago, and you mean it now. If Jeon Jungkook was the sun, you would gladly change your name to Icarus. If Jeon Jungkook was the moon, then you are the tides that he pushes and pulls. If Jeon Jungkook belonged to you, well...you don’t have to imagine that anymore. He is your’s, as you are his. 
Old habits die hard, but they are not immortal. They wax and wane, and remind you that in the cosmic vastness of things, you are only human. Humans whose hearts beat in tandem and souls made to complete the other. Humans with identical crescent moons, lost but now found.
Old habits die hard. But you have learned to fix those of a broken heart. 
5K notes · View notes
jinned · 9 months ago
Text
handsy | taehyung | m
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snippet: Then, looking into your eyes, he speaks firmly, “Before we begin, let’s establish some ground rules.”
pairing: kim taehyung x female reader
genre: smut, pwp
au: roommates, f2l
rating: explicit/18+
word count: 3.7k
warnings: there’s a deep conversation about feelings, love confessions. yuck (UNEDITED)
sexual warnings: masturbation (female receiving), mutual pining, begging, rule making, dirty talk, non penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), body worship, light foot worship, the entire thing is based off getting reader off, taehyung doesn’t get off  :(, taehyung is bossy, praise kink, taehyung calls reader babygirl, overstimulation, .001% of aftercare, moaning, hair pulling, marking, punishment kink?, dom/sub dynamics, orgasm...guilt?, daddy/baby kink (i’m so sorry)
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The frustration builds quicker than you wanted, the groans coming from your mouth grow louder each time you feel your body give up on itself. You’re too god damn horny, but your body is too tired to properly masturbate.
This is probably the fifth time now that you've attempted to get yourself off only to abandon ship seconds after. Your muscles ache and sleep calls to you. Despite this, every time you try to just sleep it off, the aching throb from your clit keeps you awake.
It takes everything in you to keep yourself from throwing a tantrum like a toddler.
The clock now reads just after three in the morning, you let out one last angered breath. It comes out louder than you intended, the grunt raising in pitch before you can even stop yourself.
Moments later, your sleep-drunk roommate opens your door, rubbing his eyes with one fist as he holds himself up with the other hand gripping the doorway.
“Are you okay or whatever?” Taehyung sighs, slight annoyance laced in his tone.
Your eyes are wide with embarrassment as Taehyung’s sleepy eyes jolt awake with alertness as he finally sees you.
You’re laying on top of your comforter completely naked with one hand still draped across your womanhood.
Taehyung shifts his body against the door frame, the moonlight now flickering down his face. The shadows of your air-guided drapes chase that light, new depths illuminating across his nose and cheekbones. You’re not sure why your brain is trying so hard to think of metaphors and similes, anything to compare Taehyung to. It would be too easy to blame it on the lack of sleep. Then again, you’ve never truly looked at him this way before and it’s killing you that you can’t read the expression on his face.
In this moment, you realize you have neither fight nor flight instincts as you lay frozen in your bed, nothing willing you to cover yourself up.
Taehyung’s tongue pokes out of his mouth, moving slowly against his bottom lip as his eyes flick frantically from your body to the wall across the room. Raising a hand to cover his mouth, he clears his throat and brushes his thumb against his bottom lip to wipe away the remnants from his tongue.
Clearing his throat once more, his shoulder relaxes against the doorframe, his eyes continue to debate where to look. “Wha-whatcha doing there?” He immediately turns away from you after speaking, facing the wall as he aggressively rubs at the nape of his neck.
“Oh...you know...just trying to sleep.”
There’s a brief silence- minus the light flapping of your curtains. That and the mental beating you’re giving yourself for trying to joke about the situation at hand. There is no hiding it. You’ve been caught red-handed.
“Y/n,” Taehyung warns.
Shutting your eyes tightly, your brain moves at hyper-speed trying to figure out what to do or say next. A million scenarios flood in and all you want is to pick the option that lets you keep your roommate and not have to live with exploding embarrassment for the rest of your life.
You’re about to open your mouth and just say the first thing that comes to mind, perhaps brutal honesty will help you out in the end when Taehyung beats you to the punch.
“Do you...do you need help?”
It takes you a moment to register what he’s said. You’re finally able to move your hand away from your cunt and you slowly sit up and lay your back against your headboard, grabbing one of your pillows and hugging it tightly to your chest.
“I guess talking about it might help. Have you ever just been so horny and tired at the same time but you’re unable to do either of those things? I’ve been struggling for hours now trying to sleep but I can’t sleep because...you know, and then when I try to do that I’m just too tired to actually do it right and-”
“No, I mean-” Taehyung cuts himself off with a sigh, quickly followed by a slow intake of air, puffing his cheeks out as he releases it and walks towards your bed. Determination and bravery are written all over his face, despite the fact that he’s still trying to respectively not look at you.
“I can help you.”
A few more moments pass before you finally understand what he’s trying to say.
“Oh...OH!” You can’t help but gasp as it finally clicks in your head exactly what he’s offering to you.
“Wouldn’t that,” you gulp, your face feeling painfully warm, “wouldn’t that make things weird? Between us?”
Taehyung’s jaw is tight, his muscles jutting forward as he looks towards your bedroom door. “It doesn’t have to be weird...if you don’t want them to be. I mean, I can honestly say I haven’t ever...you know, not thought of you in this way before.” He lets out another long puff of air, hand grasping at the back of his neck as he tries to massage the tension away.
You feel embarrassed and flattered all at once. Your roommate of three years, best friend of over ten years, has admitted to thinking of you in a sexual way.
Taehyung lets you think for a moment. But it only allows you more time to realize that you can’t feign innocence here either. There was that major crush you had on him in high school or the time you walked in on him in the shower. There’s definitely been a handful of times where he’s crept into your thoughts while you were with someone else or even times when you were alone.
There are a million things that could go wrong if you accept his offer.
Or, a million things that could go right.
“Okay,” you say bravely, “please help me.”
Turning his head slowly, Taehyung finally looks at you, his eyes roaming every inch of your body slowly. He inhales, his jaw clenching once more as his gaze falls upon your uncovered chest.
Then, looking into your eyes, he speaks firmly, “Before we begin, let’s establish some ground rules.”
Gulping slowly, you nod your head, trying not to think about the lack of friction going on below.
"Rule number one," Taehyung starts with a smile, "you will not touch me." 
"What?-"
"Nuh, uh." He interrupts you, finally taking a seat at the end of your bed. Without looking, he picks up your bare feet and places them in his lap, his hands roaming over your calves and down to your toes. The touch of his skin on yours alone is sending the signals in your body into overdrive. That mixed with the tiredness you're feeling, it's making it nearly impossible to think straight.
"I've been thinking about a night like this for a while. Respectfully, of course," he adds quickly. "I never wanted to do anything to ruin what we have. But damn, I really can't deny it. I've thought about making you cum over and over and over again so many times it was like a movie in my mind." Taehyung continues to stroke your feet and legs sensually as he speaks. It takes everything in your power not to pounce on him.
Instead, you bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, letting the deep grumble of Taehyung's voice soothe your body along with all the places he's trailing his fingers on.
“Anyways,” he says with a quirk of his eyebrow, “back to our rules.”
His domineering tone sends chills throughout your body and you try your best to ignore the white noise ringing in your ears. 
“Rule number two: you will not call me by my name.”
The urge to question him again is strong, but his stare makes you shut your mouth tightly.
He knows the question is hanging off the tip of your tongue, you know that he knows. Instead of throwing you a bone, he sits there smirking at you, sitting on his high horse while also looking like he knows the punchline to the joke you’ve been waiting to get.
Finally, he beckons you closer, his pointer finger slowly enticing you in. As soon as you’re close enough to see the dark flecks in his eyes, he leans in himself until his lips are hovering just over your ear.
“Baby gets to call me Daddy, and Daddy only.”
Admittedly, your first instinct is to laugh, the sheer shock of his words not fully settling in. But then, after a moment, you can tell just how much his words affected your body; your legs feel shakier, the core of your womanhood pulsates quicker, and you start to feel the dripping of your arousal moving down your thighs.
It only makes sense that your childhood friend, the love of your life, would also turn out to be the kinkiest person you’ve ever met.
It only makes sense.
“Okay...Daddy.”
The smugness on Taehyung’s face only increases.
“Good girl.”
“Are there any other rules...Daddy?” The word still feels odd coming out of your mouth. But it’s all worth it when you notice the growing tent in Taehyung’s sweatpants
Taehyung gets off the bed and walks closer to you, his hands behind his back. He appears so nonchalant and unbothered, almost like he’s ignoring the fact that he’s sporting the hardest erection he’s ever had in his life. 
It makes you nervous in the best of ways.
Removing one hand from behind his back, he places it on one of your knees, caressing your flesh gently before opening your legs, spreading them wide to expose your dripping cunt. He nods his head with approval, biting his bottom lip hard as his eyes sweep over your entire naked body.
It feels like the room’s temperature went up another ten degrees.
Taehyung dips his hand lower, hovering over your cunt. Each time it looks like he’s about to touch you, your vagina pulses with anticipation, only for Taehyung to deceivingly pull away at the last second.
“Please, Daddy! Please touch me! I just want to cum, I’ll do anything!”
With a slight chuckle, Taehyung humors you and dips one of his fingers down, lightly petting the tops of your folds.
The small touch makes you shiver, the small amount of juices he accumulates on his fingers captures the now cold air in the room. 
“Only because you asked so nicely.” And with that said, Taehyung's fingers glide over your folds, soaking in your slick juices. Your head falls back against your pillow and you wish you could sink in deeper; into the bed, the pillow, into him. He's murmuring something in your ears, but your mind is too focused on what's happening to your body, there's not enough mental capacity in there to comprehend words at the moment. The urge to reach out to him and feel his skin against the palm of your hand spurs deep in your chest, but not strong enough to act upon. Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut, sighing blissfully as he continues to massage and soothe your bud.
Taehyung continues a slow, sensual pace, one that you could arguably fall asleep to. It feels like every stress cell in your body slowly floats away with every stroke of his fingers.
"Just like that? Hmm?" You hear him say.
"Huh?" You manage out, your voice sounding weak and far away.
"I just didn't think you would react to me that quickly."
You open your eyes and look at him. Taehyung is propped up on one elbow, his hand cradling his jawline. His other hand continues to make brushstroke movements in between your folds. He looks at your vagina with wonder, and like he has something more to say.
But you're too tired and enjoying him too much to ask.
Moments later, Taehyung is picking up speed, beckoning your uncoming.
You don't feel ready to give up the warmth you feel with his touch, not ready to reach the top and climb back down.
Grasping onto Taehyung's shoulder, your fingernails dig into him as you bite down on your bottom lip, fighting desperately at the orgasm crashing down on you.
"There you go, baby. That's it. Come undone on my fingers." Taehyung's sweet demeanor is long gone as he watches you with sinful eyes.
A small moan leaves your lips as you let go; your legs shake vigorously underneath Taehyung's grasp and you feel the painful twist of a muscle spasm deep in your hamstrings.
Short gasps are all you can manage in response, your mind feeling more awake than before.
And in that brief pause between ministrations, your mind increases its speed tenfold.
This is your best friend you're laying in front of. The same guy you used to collect bugs with when you were younger, the same guy you were embarrassed in front of when he found out you started wearing a training bra.
And you just came in front of him.
"I'm so sorry, Taehyung!" you cry out, sitting up quickly and burying your face in your hands as you fight back hot tears from falling down your cheeks. "We can forget this ever happened!"
Taehyung is quiet behind you as you imagine yourself shrinking into a spec of nothing.
Then, tenderly, his hand is on top of yours, coaxing it away from your face. And you let him do it.
Taehyung holds your hands in his, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles before whispering, "Did I do something wrong?"
Immediately you want to scream no, but your words catch in your throat. His bottom lip is jutting out slightly and he's avoiding your eyes. And then you remember that you know him, you know him more than anyone, hell, sometimes you know him more than you know yourself. And right now, this Taehyung in front of you is just as embarrassed and emotional as you are.
"No," you say bravely, "I don't regret it at all. I'm sorry, I just-" you sigh and lean back, struggling to find the right words to say while fighting against your own embarrassment, "-I just never thought we would get to this point. And to hear you say all those things you were saying? I just don't understand. Why didn't you ever tell me? Why me to begin with?" That's when you realize where all of this insecurity is coming from. Taehyung has been with gorgeous people in the past, gorgeous, successful people. And the thought of him liking you? It must feel like a step down for him.
"It's always been you, Y/n. Ever since we first met. How could I ever for a second not want to be with you? You're my best friend, the person I go to for comfort. And because of that, I was always afraid to tell you about my feelings. Because just being in your life as your friend and your roommate, that was more than enough for me. And this doesn't have to go anywhere if you don't want it to be. I want it to go somewhere. Hell, Y/n I want to be with you. But if you don't want to be with me like that? I'll be okay."
His words swirl around your body, not quite processing into complacent thoughts. There are about a million different emotions coursing through your veins, and each one is battling to come to surface. 
It feels selfish, the position he’s put you in. Because now, it’s all on you. Your choice will determine how your relationship with Taehyung changes forever. And, let’s be real, no matter what happens after this moment, things will never be the same. The weight of that realization is pushing you down into the mattress you sit on.
On the other hand, there’s excitement, joy, happiness, relief all bundled into one giant heart floating around you. Your best friend, the person you’ve been in love with for over a century now, feels the same way you do.
Taehyung waits in front of you patiently while you figure out exactly what to say.
You’re too tired for words, too tired for thoughts, too tired for almost everything it seems. 
Well, everything, except…
You lean forward slowly, placing your weight on your hands as you close the space between you and Taehyung and place a tender kiss on his lips.
Taehyung sighs and closes his eyes, completely melting into your touch.
How could you not do the same?
All of the tiredness, all of the frustrations from before Taehyung entered your bedroom, it was all worth it to get to this moment. And you’d go through it every night for the rest of your life if it meant you got to kiss him just like this.
The kiss deepens quickly, your mouths moving with an intensity you’ve never experienced before. Without thinking, you let your body take full control, not second-guessing any natural movement. So you let your hand find its way to the nape of Taehyung’s hair, delicately pulling at the ends until his neck is forced back and a moan ripples through his throat. It was so unexpected and out of character, but you liked having this control.
It doesn’t last long. Taehyung quickly comes to his senses and knocks you onto your back, pushing you with one hand on your chest. He chuckles low and menacingly, his eyes staring deep into yours.
“What did we say about touching?” His voice is so low you swear you can feel it rumbling in your chest.
Taehyung doesn’t allow you enough time to answer. Before you can even open your mouth, his tongue is attached to your lips.
But not the lips on your face.
Your eyes immediately roll back as his tongue writes beautiful nothingness against your cunt and you desperately want to reach out and grip his hair again. By some sheer force of will, you’re able to restrain yourself and settle for gripping the sheets instead.
The tongue movements start slow, but it seems you’re not the only impatient one here. Taehyung picks up speed as he laps up your juices, his hand snaking up to insert a few digits inside you. His other hand is gripping one of your hips, his entire forearm pressing against your pelvic bone, holding you into place. His grip on you only seems to make your body want to shake more.
“You that close already, baby?” Taehyung lifts his head up for a moment, your juices glistening on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. It seems like a sight you would only have in your dreams. It’s hard to believe this is happening in real life.
“Answer me,” he commands, but there’s a tinge of softness behind his words.
“I can’t help it.” You pant out, “Been building up all these years now. I could have came just by you touching my shoulder.”
Taehyung chuckles at this, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.
“You can cum whenever you want, baby. Daddy’s not going to stop you,” he says casually.
Almost...too casually.
But you don’t think twice, you’re too tired to think twice. Quiet moans slip past your lips and Taehyung takes that as his cue. His fingers move faster, scissoring inside your body as his thumb swipes against your clit.
It’s almost too easy to come undone.
White hot heat spreads throughout your body as everything around you starts to shake. Taehyung is watching you with careful eyes as you orgasm the fastest you’ve ever orgasmed in your life.
Your breathing only gets heavier as you come back from your high. But then, a blissful pain makes your thigh muscles jolt, a new wave of uncontainable cries escape you.
“Daddy said he wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to cum,” Taehyung devilishly proclaims, his fingers moving faster than ever, “but that didn’t mean Daddy was going to stop.”
Your eyes shut tight as you pull at the sheets gripped tightly in your hands, too afraid to speak because of the moans you’re currently swallowing back. Small whimpers make it out as you desperately try to focus on anything other than the torture you’re going through.
“Aw, don’t be like that, baby,” Taehyung coes, focusing almost all of his attention on your clit now. “Let it all out. Daddy wants to hear your pretty voice.”
There are no logical thoughts left in your brain. All you know is that you’re desperately exhausted and it’s taking too much of your energy to fight against the natural cries your body wants to release as this overstimulation continues.
So, you let go.
“Fuck! Daddy that feels so good! I’m gonna come again- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”
A small scream is all you can manage as the pressure in your core finally releases. You thought your previous orgasm was intense? Nothing will ever be able to top this one.
“Damn that was fucking sexy.” Taehyung stands and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Your legs are still trembling and it feels like every muscle in your body is frozen in place. Warm liquid coats your inner thighs and drips down onto your sheets.
“Did I just…?” You ask with shock. Taehyung laughs and nods his head, walking towards your door.
“Hell yeah you did. Have you ever squirted before?”
“Only once. But it never felt as good as that did,” you whisper, but Taehyung is already out of the room. Your eyes flutter shut, sleep threatening to take over.
Taehyung returns with a towel, throwing it so it lands right beside you.
“Goodnight, babygirl,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your forehead.
“Wait!” You call out just as he reaches the doorway. “What about you?” You point at his very obvious erection.
Taehyung waves you off casually, “We’ll have plenty more nights in the future. But for now, sleep. Don’t worry about me.” He winks. “I can take care of myself just fine. Get some sleep. Goodnight, Y/n.”
Before Taehyung even closes the door, your eyes are shut, sleep finally welcoming you into its arms.
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let me know what you think! :)
𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
© all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinned 03/082/21
678 notes · View notes
btsarmy9593 · 9 months ago
Photo
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fwb
(photos from here and here)
pairing: jungkook x reader 
genre: grad school au(barely), fwb, f2l, fluff, smut
rating: M 
word count: 3.5k
warnings: protected sex, language, handjob, a misplaced hand, jungkook in sweats with long hair (you’re welcome), lots of laughing, alcohol but everyone is of age, bridal shower frustration, 
a/n: thank you to my lovely cheerleaders @sasseone and @xjoonchildx for waving those metaphorical pom poms. 
masterlist
-----------
You plop on the sofa, head bumping against the back of it. “I hate bridal showers.”
Jungkook shuts the door and tosses his keys on the table in the hallway before walking into the living area. “I’ve never heard of getting drunk at bridal showers before.”
You glare at him. “I’m not drunk. I’m mildly buzzed. Which is why I called you. However, if you would be so kind as to provide me with more alcohol, I’d love to be drunk.”
He grins at you. “Your wish is my command.”
“Why I love you, Jeon. Why I love you.”
A bottle of moscato and several beers later.
“I need to go change the sheets on my bed,” he says, attempting to get up off the sofa.  He doesn’t get far. You poke him with your socked feet. 
“Dude, no need to stand on ceremony. The couch is fine. BFFs, right?”
He glances at you, for more than a few seconds. You’re sure you look a mess, smeared eye makeup, hair frizzy from falling back on the sofa laughing as you both watch Princess Bride for the umpteeth time. You’ve changed into one of his massive t-shirts and pair of workout shorts, looking probably even more like the dysfunctional adult you are. He looks better, in grey sweatpants, sneakers, and stretched out black t-shirt. You’d probably interrupted him in the middle of editing his most recent project for grad school. He lives in those sweatpants. 
“BFFs,” he replies quietly, eyes going back to the television. 
“Are you mad?” You sit up, worried.
“Mad?”
“At me? You were working tonight and I totally command---uh, command---took over.”
“Commandeered?” he supplies with a grin.
“That word.” You point at him, pleased. “I commandeered your evening.”
“You’re just now worried about that?” He leaned back, his grin morphing into a smirk, reaching out to take your empty bottle of beer. You pout, but try to continue. 
“You should have said something. Or dropped me off at my place.” 
He sets the bottle on his makeshift coffee table, a hammered out car door shell over stacks of undergrad textbooks. As he leans back, he takes your hand and tugs you so you fall against his side. 
“Maybe I wanted to hear how shitty the bridal shower was.”
You grumble. “Number five.”
“Hmm?” he asks, eyes already back on the television and the fire swamp. 
“Number five bridal shower. This year.”
He pats your shoulder, clearly not really listening. You stare at his pretty face and then at his hair. He’s been so involved in post-grad work that he hasn’t had a haircut in months. It’s currently up in a ponytail, a stubby little thing that makes you smile.
When you pull out his hair tie, his hand that has been rubbing your arm stops moving.
“What are you doing?” His gaze is back on you. 
“Seeing your hair. It’s prettier than mine.” You pout again.
“That is true.” 
You punch his chest and he huffs as though you could actually hurt him. “That is not the response you’re supposed to give.”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you just finish the conversation if you know better?” 
“You’re supposed to tell me that’s not true. My hair is pretty. In fact, I’m very pretty. Prettier than the stupid perfect girls at the shower.”
He sighs. “If you know that, you shouldn’t need me to say so.”
You hide your face in his shoulder. “I’m a stupid girl. Please feed my neediness.”
You can feel him laugh at your words, his hand resting on the back of your head. He does that. Cradles your head like you're somehow precious and delicate. You’re not, but you like the way it makes you feel. 
“You’re not stupid, Miss “I teach three classes even though I’m still not finished with my hours yet.”
“That’s way too long a title,” you mutter before turning your head, eyes facing the TV, but you aren’t watching anymore. “I’m sorry, Kook. I am being silly.”
He clicks his tongue. “Your hair is pretty. You’re very pretty. Prettier than all the stupid not perfect girls at that shower.”
You look up at him. “You’re the best.”
“I know.” 
You yawn, covering your mouth. He grabs the remote near his hand and turns off the movie and then the TV.
“I’m sorry.”
“Bedtime.”
You look up at him again, reaching out to finger the curly strands falling into his eyes. “Pretty.” You try to push up, so you aren’t plastered against him, but your hand slips.  
You both freeze.
“I…” he swallows, glancing down at your hand that had landed in one place and not moved. 
You look down as well. 
“That a personal invitation or just general?”
“What?” his voice cracks. “You really gotta move your…”
You squeeze your fingers just slightly and his reaction is instantaneous. 
He says your name so you look up to see his eyes boring into yours, pupils dilated. 
You pull your hand away like you’ve touched a hot stove. 
“Sorry,” you stutter. “I must be drunker than I thought.” You can’t help but look back at where your hand just was.
He says your name again. This time, it sounds really strained. 
“You keep looking.”
“Sorry.” But you don’t look away. “I mean, I knew you weren’t--” You cover your mouth before you discuss size and measurements. “I’ll just call an Uber.” You lean forward to grab your phone, but his hand is there first. 
Great, now you were thinking about his hands. Bigger than yours, masculine, but not rough. Soft. 
Masculine, but soft.
Exactly like Jungkook. 
“I need my phone, Kook.”
He takes it and as he stands, slips it into his pocket. You stare up at him, confused and maybe a little turned on.
Maybe more than a little.
“You’re drunk. Stay here.” He is still standing, and you’re still staring up at him. Of course, he’s attractive from this angle too.
Your eyes drop down. He’s still affected. 
“I could just….” you offer, holding your hand out like it’s a gift. “Help you out.”
He grabs you by the wrist before you get too close. “You’re not serious.”
“What’s a handjob between friends?” You meet his eyes again. He’s considering it. You’re past considering it, wanting to feed that curiosity of what your best friend might look like under his clothes. If he’s still as beautiful (most likely), if your crush will finally stop (most unlikely). 
He sits back down on the couch, his fingers still around your wrist. 
“Really?” The eagerness in his voice betrays how much of a guy he is. Jungkook may be one of the higher evolved of the male gender, but he is still male. “I’ve been so busy and--”
“Yeah, you haven’t thrilled me with any sexcapade retellings of late.” You don’t love the retellings, but at the same time, it does give you insight into what Kook prefers, which you may or may not file away for later use. You move closer. “Yes?”
His tongue peeks out to wet his lips, his fingers tightening around your wrist. “You sure? No weirdness because we’re, well, us? And you have been drinking...”
You roll your eyes before settling to straddle his thighs while on your knees. “Lucky for you that my motor skills are still good. I’m not that drunk, Jeon. Besides, I got you this way. Only fair to get you off.” His thighs tense under you and you make sure you don’t actually moan at how good that feels.
So, it’s also been awhile for you, too.
“If you’re sure…” he begins and ends with a caught breath when your hand slips underneath the waistband of his sweats (of course he’s without underwear) to touch him. “Fuck,” he breathes when you trace the topography of his dick. 
“I mean, damn. I knew you were gifted…” you mutter, grinning at him as you continue your exploration. When your thumb rubs the tip, his head falls back and you’re given a stunning view of his neck. You want to nibble, but you don’t think that falls under the heading of ‘hand job among friends.’ You pull him out, you hand more teasing than stroking at this point. 
“Why does your hand feel so good?”
You’re pretty sure that’s rhetorical. 
You continue with your light touches, but his hand comes down around yours, fingers lining up together and he squeezes, letting out an ungodly sound. You hope he doesn’t feel how your legs tighten around his. You hope he doesn’t realize how much watching him affects you. 
His hand stays around yours, stroking up and down and when he seems to think you’ve gotten it, he lets go and leans back. 
“I really hope Jimin isn’t going to walk in on this,” you say, hoping your tone covers the breathiness. Jimin is Jungkook’s roommate, though he’s more often at the dance studio or his girlfriend’s place than here. 
He lets out a strangled laugh before lifting his head to meet your gaze. His smile is amused, fond which is majorly in contrast of the strained neck muscles and blown wide pupils. You shrug with a grin before looking down at your ministrations. You’ve been resting your other hand on his thigh and when he moans again, your fingers dig into his muscle. 
“Please don’t think this is normal for me, but I’m not gonna last,” he says this between gritted teeth and you laugh helplessly. 
“Do you want me to get a towel or something?”
He swallows hard, sweat glistening that beautiful skin of his. “No time. And if you stop...that might end our friendship.” 
“Sure, sure,” you aren’t threatened but you look around for something then shrug again, one hand still taking care of him and now your other pulling off his shirt that you wear. You see his eyes bug out as you do, but he can’t say anything because the moment you’ve got the shirt only around your one hand, he comes into it with a long groan. 
Jeez, he would still be beautiful all wrecked like this.
He shudders when he’s done and you clean him up like this is a normal thing between the two of you. You figure if you act like it’s weird, then it’s weird. And you love him too much to make it weird.
But it’s a little weird. 
“I’ll uh...put this in the...yeah.” You get up, your legs shaky and hurry to take the shirt to his bedroom, and into the plastic laundry basket that holds 90% black clothing. You bought him a pink sweatshirt last year for his birthday and he wears it on occasion. It looks really good on him.
You’re moving to his dresser to grab another shirt for you, but you stop when you sense him at the doorway. You look up to see him, but he’s backlit so his expression is a mystery to you, therefore his feelings.
Oh god, has drunk you just ruined everything? You don’t even think you’re that drunk anymore. 
“I thought I’d grab another shirt.” You are just standing there in his shorts and your bra, which luckily is a nice bra, because it was a nice bridal shower. “That okay?” Should you ask permission to steal more clothes or is that ridiculous now that you’ve made him come?
“Nope.”
You weren’t expecting that response.
“What?”
He walks into his own bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He switches on the desk lamp, revealing all his film editing paraphernalia, and yet, you still can’t really see his face clearly. You can see the edges of him; that sharp jawline, that neck you’d been ogling earlier, the long messy hair, the broad shoulders, the tiny waist...those thighs.
“Don’t steal another shirt,” he clarifies as he walks toward you. You’re nervous now. You weren’t before, but your buzz has definitely worn off and there’s something in his voice that seems familiar, but you know it’s new.
New to you, though you’ve heard it before. Usually in the company of other women. 
He’s about two feet away from where you’re frozen in place. He takes off his shirt (the whole pulling from the back of the neck thing that is so damn hot, you swear you are literally weak in the knees right now) and offers it to you.
You’ve gone swimming with Jungkook before. You’ve totally seen him shirtless before. But it’s different in his bedroom, with that soft lighting, with the fact that he’s still flushed from what you did.
Holy shit, you gave your best friend a hand job and now all you want to do is fuck him. 
You reach out to take the shirt, but he doesn’t let go.
“Kook?” When did your voice sound like that?
“You don’t have to put it on,” he says, voice low. You have goosebumps on your arms. It’s not from the cold because it isn’t cold. It’s warm, it’s hot. 
Is he offering what you think he’s offering? 
You’re both still holding his shirt. He tugs on it to bring you closer. You can see his eyes now. 
He’s never looked at you this way. Like you’re something to eat. For the big sweetheart that he is, he is also sex on legs. All your friends say so. You always verbally disagree, but to yourself you fully concur with them. 
“Is fucking okay between friends?” you ask, taking the risk and putting it out there.
His hand cups the side of your face. Your eyes flutter shut like some love interest in a romantic drama, but you can’t help it. He smells and feels so good. 
“I want more.”
You open your eyes to find him close. “More?”
“Kissing, fucking, touching, any and all of it.” His lips hover near yours. “Cuddling.”
“We already cuddle,” you answer petulantly. 
He grins, mouth temptingly close. “Yeah, but I gotta watch my hands. I’d like not to.”
“I’d like you not to, too.” 
His hands (now with permission) move to your ass and under, lifting you. Your legs wrap around that teeny waist of his (you’ve admitted before on another night, far drunker than this one, that you were jealous of his girlish figure) as your arms encircle his shoulders. He moves back until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, you in his lap, still staring at you.
You haven’t kissed. Neither of you is making the first move. It’s a very strange game of chicken. His hands travel up your naked back and you shiver.
“The bra is very pretty, but maybe we should take it off,” he says as though this is a normal conversation between you two. 
“Go ahead,” all of a sudden everything is sounding like a dare. His eyes never moving from yours (you could fall into them, they’re so big and dark) and his hand slides up to deftly undo the clasp. “You’re a little too good at that.”
“Maybe I’ve fantasized about it a few times.” 
“Of me?”
“Of you,” he answers, nose brushing yours as he carefully draws the bra straps down your arms. You’ve seen him open gift-wrapped presents before. He’s never this meticulous. Your eyes close at the touch of his nose. “You think just because we’re friends I don’t think of you in my bed, naked and under me?”
He smirks when your thighs tighten around his legs. 
“Nothing to say?” Your bra is on the floor now and he’s staring. 
“My brain has completely stopped all normal functioning.”
He laughs, moving in to take your mouth as though laughing and kissing are the same. He tastes like beer, but better. He’s less meticulous now, lips greedy, tongue desperate, hands stroking your back like you might escape. 
Why would you escape when he feels like the way creme brulee tastes? Decadent, and too much is not good for you. 
His hands slide down your back and under the shorts you’ve borrowed from him to squeeze and press you closer. You moan, long and throaty because the friction feels so damn good. 
Your hands card through his hair, slowing down to grip, rub, and pull. He breaks from the kiss to stare at you, hands still groping your ass, with another insistent push against you. 
“Fuck, Kook,” you breathe, voice hoarse and reedy. “I didn’t know you were into foreplay.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Are you in a hurry?”
“You keep doing that…” You’re not sure how you can talk, because it really has been awhile. The cord inside you is drawn so tight, it won’t take much for it to snap. 
He starts to push down the shorts and underwear, signaling you to ease off his lap and let gravity rid you of the last of your clothes. 
You’re standing in front of your BFF, naked.
You’re not necessarily insecure about your body. That’s a lie. You’re insecure, who isn’t? But normally, you know enough about guys that in a lot of cases the body doesn’t matter...just as long as their favorite parts are available. 
He stands up as well, sheds his sweats so you’re both completely bare. He grins at you.
“I didn’t know you had a freckle there.”
You make a face. “Why would you?”
It’s definitely awkward.
“Still wanna do this?” you ask.
“I feel like I should be asking you that,” he says, reaching for you, bowing his head so his lips touch yours. “I want you.”
It’s said so simply, but your heart does a flip anyway. 
“It's not the alcohol?” you ask, even as your body seeks his. 
“I had two beers. What about you?”
“I’ve always wanted you,” it comes out (probably because of the remaining alcohol in your system) without warning. 
You feel him tense at the admission. “Really?” His mouth moves to your cheek, his hands cupping your neck and sliding along your shoulders and arms. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Hell no.”
He laughs before gripping your arms and manhandling you onto his bed. You bounce once before he’s over you, legs in between yours. He kisses you again and you pull him closer.
“Hold on,” he grumbles, letting all of his weight keep you pressed to the mattress.
“Wow, you are heavy.”
He snorts as he leans over to grab something from under his bed. “See, if I said that about you…”
You smack his arm. “Rude.”
He comes back up holding a condom packet. You take it and rip it open as he sits back on his heels. You start to roll it on him and you hear an intake of breath. You look up at him.
“You really like my hands on you.”
He tries to glare at you. “Don’t get cocky.”
You squeeze him once you’re done and he yanks away your hand, grabbing your other and pins them above your head. 
“You would like to be in control.”
He rolls his eyes as he lines himself up. “Next time, you can be on top.”
Your breath catches at both his words and his sliding in. “Next time?”
He pauses, letting you both get used to the stretch. You stare at the glistening sweat on his forehead. 
“I mean...if you want to.”
It’s soft, his voice. If you hadn’t been inches apart, you may not have heard him. But you are inches apart. He’s right here, looking at you with a hint of worry. 
Looking like the boy you met years ago, when he’d been a first year grad student, like you. He’d seemed so lost and alone that you’d walked up to him, introduced yourself, and said point blank:
“We should be friends.”
You really hadn’t given him any other option.
You trace your hand along the side of his face. “Jeon...you know you’re stuck with me.”
He smiles a shy smile before pulling back and thrusting into you. The sound you make is so high-pitched that he giggles and you smack his arm again. 
“So mean,” he says, with a particularly brutal thrust and you want to retort something, but he’s hitting you right there, and you’re pretty sure anything you say will be incoherent. “But so gorgeous.”
You open your eyes to see him looking at you, eyes delighted in contrast to the bulging veins in his neck, straining as he continues to fill you. You lift up to kiss him softly, knowing that you’re about to unravel. You’d be embarrassed that you’re so close so quickly, but you’re not.
Not when the cord snaps and you’re flying somewhere, half aware that he’s still going. He follows soon after (apparently neither of you has any lasting power this evening) and lets himself collapse on your body; sticky, sweaty, and warm. 
You like it.
You wrap your arms around him as his shudders fade, kissing his hair and temple. He doesn’t move for several minutes, just his fingers climbing up and down your sides and hips. 
“So…” he speaks first, lifting his head. 
You stare into his dark brown eyes. “So…”
“Are you going to any more bridal showers? Like soon?”
He’s laughing when you smack him for the millionth time. But you’re laughing too.
----
© 2020-21 btsarmy9593: BTS belongs to BigHit and they are just inspiration. I am fully aware that my stories are not them, in any way. They are far better than any thing I could write.
crossposted to ao3 (link in my masterlist)
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jungkxook · 10 months ago
Text
—pour up. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader x taehyung
⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / fuckboy!taehyung + smut  
⟶ words: 14,048 (idk how it’s literally just smut)
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: sleeping with both notorious frat boys kim taehyung and jeon jungkook doesn’t sound so bad ━ especially when you’re drunk and faded.
⟶ warnings: mentions of drug/alcohol use, essentially pwp lol, threesome, double penetration, voyeurism, messy rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dry humping, manhandling, doggy style, riding (sort of?), fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), face riding, face fucking, deepthroating, breast play, slight begging (mostly oc making jungkook beg hehe), brief name calling, dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie
⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog! also shout out to miss jlin @bratkook​ for being the sweetest and for liking this trashy fic of mine, and a happy early birthday present to @onherwings​ miss juno, the resident taekook lover!! 💛
also the accompanying song to this fic is pour up by dean!
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There were times when you were sober where you were persistent about never being in a five foot radius of a frat boy, much less strip yourself of your dignity long enough to sleep with one.
Your appalling disgust and immense irritation of the male species that were frat boys kept you well in tune to your rule ━ until you’re far past the point of drunk and faded. Only then, when your bloodstream is laced with alcohol and your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud of smoke, you shrink into a shameless hypocrite and favour the appeal of a simple hook up. But you have needs too; it isn’t entirely your fault. Kim Taehyung offers you exactly that, with the promise to then act as if nothing happens the very next day so that the two of you can revert to despising one another out in public.
You act as if no one knows about your flings with ultimate frat boy Taehyung almost every weekend, as if they’re just as oblivious as you, but damn near the whole school knows and most certainly the rest of the boys in Beta Tau Sigma, or as Taehyung puts it, his brothers. It’s a useless cycle of bicker, avoid, drink, sex, and repeat, ever since you joined the school as a freshman and the sophomore boy took an interest in you. He’s charming in all the right ways and good looking but his smooth appeal was almost too good to be true and, past his “kind” smiles, you could make him out to be arrogant, vain, and cocky. Maybe you would have given him an actual chance had it not been for his snarkiness but all your brain could truly handle was his dick for a few hours a week.
Unsurprisingly, you always end up crashing at Beta Tau Sigma after one of their raging parties that results in your hook ups with Taehyung; surprisingly, Taehyung is miraculously into pillow talk post-sex and so he doesn’t entirely mind if you stay the night. But, by morning, when the alcohol has all but turned into a terrible hangover, he can hardly care less if you stay or not.
Usually, you wake up on your own, courtesy of past sober you setting an alarm on your phone to make sure you wake up earlier than all the other walkers of shame and anyone else in Beta Tau Sigma. Ideally, it was to help guarantee that no one would ever see you or judge you for stooping low enough to sleep with a fuckboy but you don’t know how well that’s working out for you anymore, if you’re being honest.
That’s why, early one fateful Sunday morning after a night of fun with Taehyung, you awaken with a start to the shrill Marimba tone that rips through the silence of the room and causes you to literally jump out of bed and crash onto the floor. You groan at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine and accompanies your groggy mind as your eyes flicker open only to be greeted with a blinding light that is the sun as it filters through the shut curtains. Littered on the ground are clothes, your clothes, beer bottles, red solo cups, discarded bed sheets, a singular condom wrapper (you thank your past selves for at least being sober enough to remember to use one), and your cell phone.
“Turn that shit off, for fuck sakes,” he grovels.
His hangover, and the early morning, makes his already deep voice even rougher, huskier, and you blame your disoriented mind for thinking he sounds even remotely sexy. He doesn’t bother to lift his head from his pillow or to find where you are in the room, the messy longer-than-usual curls of his hair flopping into his lashes as he flips onto his back. Other bodily remnants remain from the night before, from the mellowing ache between your legs left in the wake of his dick sufficiently railing you to the bite marks on his neck that you had so graciously bestowed him.
Now, you roll your eyes at him instead but dive for your phone nearby and tap the snooze button before it wakes the entire house and rouses the army of fuckboys from the dead.
“Good morning to you too,” You remark. “Is that better, princess?”
“Much.”
You push yourself to your feet and stretch, the stiff joints in your body popping and cracking, before searching for your clothes. You’re certain Taehyung has fallen back asleep as you dig around through the clutter to find your belongings but what else is new? It’s a routine the two of you have come to know well, and one that neither of you mind. You spot some sort of lacy material hidden underneath a few of Taehyung’s dirty laundry laying on the floor and reach for it thinking it’s yours. You’re only mildly disturbed to find that it isn’t yours at all ━ though you’re more concerned about the hygienic purposes of touching some other girl’s thong than you are about the blatant fact Taehyung sleeps with more girls than just you (a fact you swear you could care less for).
“Jesus Christ, your room is a disaster,” You scoff now.
“You could clean it,” Taehyung suggests sluggishly. Now, he’s awake, pretty and hooded eyes fluttering open to find you nearby. He props his hand behind his head to lift his gaze a little higher.
You snort, tossing the underwear away. “You never cease to━”
“Amaze you?”
“Repel me more than when I see the collection of thongs you have hidden in your room,” You correct. Fortunately, you spot your own underwear nearby and scoop it up, quickly slipping into them.
“Aw, baby, is that a bit of jealousy I hear?” Taehyung asks. He runs a hand through his dishevelled dark locks and shoots you a drowsy smirk. “You know you’re my one and only. I can always count on you when I want good head.”
“Please, flatter me some more, Tae,” You quip dryly.
As you hastily slide into your stiff shirt and jeans next and turn to face him, combing your fingers through your hair, Taehyung seems to take your words to heart and tries again. “You look like shit.”
You feign a voluntarily loud and overly dramatic moan. “Ugh, you really do know how to treat a girl━” Your cut off by a shameless snort from Taehyung before you continue on, “You know, you don’t exactly look the hottest right now either.”
“I beg to differ,” he replies nonchalantly. Technically, he isn’t lying, but you refuse to feed his ego any more.
“As if.”
“Funny,” he hums. “Could’ve sworn last night you were calling me hot when you were begging for my dick.”
You don’t bother to reply. Instead, you shake your head as you rub your tired face, uttering, “I need a coffee.”
“You could stay,” he offers. “I can make you one.”
“You don’t even know how to boil water,” You retort. “But thanks for the gesture. Try not to throw up on yourself today, okay?”
Taehyung mumbles something in response but then he’s already flipping over onto his side to fall back asleep again. You grab your bag from the floor and slip into your shoes before tiptoeing out of the room.
The Beta house is just as much a disaster as Taehyung’s room is and you find yourself stepping over more bottles, cups, empty pizza boxes, and hungover passed out people with phallic images doodled on their faces. The sun filters into the ever grand mansion and only illuminates the chaos the frat boys put it through. Everyone is thankfully still asleep as you head downstairs but, as you sneak past the kitchen, you notice two figures rummaging about, boisterous unabashed laughter filling the house that somehow hasn’t woken the others yet.
Jeon Jungkook stands before you with Park Jimin, both fellow Beta brothers, though Jungkook is in the same year as you. They, like most other Beta boys (and especially Taehyung), are well known on campus but Jungkook is perhaps even worse than Taehyung. Now, he’s adorned in only low hanging gray sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and the happy trail that threatens for your eyes to follow it. He holds a bowl of cereal close to him with the same arm decorated on every inch with tattoos, a snapback pushing his messy hair up and away from his forehead. The best part (and you mean that not at all) ━ or the worst ━ is the fact that he stands on a hoverboard, as if walking is too much for him to handle at nine in the morning. Jimin isn’t far off wearing the same attire, only his look is paired with the fuckboy-essential-starter-pack of socks and Adidas slides, and he’s at least actually using his legs to walk.
“Morning,” Jungkook smirks. “Time for the walk of shame?”
You have to retain a sigh. “I’m surprised you’re up, Jeon. I was sure you were gone past the point of saving last night.”
“A couple of shots do nothing for me,” Jungkook replies, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I was pretty much sober.”
At this, you sit back on your heels and look him once over skeptically. “You kept trying to hook up with me, called your dick Jungcock, threw up in one of the vases, and then passed out in the bathtub. I wouldn’t have exactly called you sober.”
The smirk remains on Jungkook’s face. If anything, he seems more so amused and it pisses you off. Jimin bursts into a fit of laughter and shakes his head.
“Always a pleasure seeing you, Y/N,” he greets. “Hey, are you coming to the party going down at Lambdas house after exams? It’s pretty exclusive but you and your friends are all invited by courtesy of us.”
“Ugh, I can’t even think about going to another party right now. How do you Beta whores do it?” You grovel. “Besides, why would we come if we know you’re going to be there?”
“‘Cause Tae’s going and you’re probably gonna wanna suck his dick,” Jungkook suggests snidely.
“I was gonna say the free booze,” Jimin offers instead. “Man, you know the Lambdas. They’re all rich pretentious sons of country club owners. They hardly throw parties but, when they do, you know it’s going to be wild. I wouldn’t miss it if I were you.”
“Well,” You say, “thanks for the invitation but we’ll see. Maybe if we have a pre-game where I can get drunk enough to handle your faces and the Lambda boys together.”
“I’ve always said you’re more fun when you’re drunk,” Jungkook hums pensively. Your eyes narrow into a glare and you’re fortunate Jimin is there to block your path from tackling Jungkook.
“Okay, whatever,” You grumble. “I’m out of here. I think if I stay here any longer, I’ll lose all my brain cells.”
Jimin chuckles but hardly seems bothered by your comment. He waves you off as he slips out of the kitchen to retreat into another room, leaving you alone with Jungkook.
“Can I get you anything before you go?” he asks. There’s a cheeky tone laced in his words that makes you blatantly aware he’s trying to suggest something more, like his dick.
“Absolutely not,” You wave him off. “See you around, Jungidiot.”
He grins and shoves another spoonful into his mouth. “Hey, maybe next Saturday you can think about blowing me instead of Tae, yeah?”
He’s met with you jamming your middle finger in his face and it only seems to entertain him further. As you march out of their home, slamming the door behind you, you have one discernable thought amongst your hangover and that is that you’ll definitely need to have that pre-game before you have the audacity to even see Jungkook, or any of the Beta boys for that matter, at the Lambdas.
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That Saturday, you find yourself at the Lambdas house party.
So maybe you had sort of been lying when you said you weren’t so sure of going to it, but the thought was tempting enough and you aren’t one to pass up on a good party, especially when it’s after weeks of headaches and stressing over studying and exams.
Mid-terms come and go and when you finally finish writing your last paper, all you want to do is let loose and party and get dicked down by Taehyung. The Lambdas, despite their pretentious behaviour, looks to be very promising ━ but only after you down a few shots beforehand and have a beer while you’re getting ready. You’re not exactly as drunk or as tipsy as you would have prefered but it still gives you a nice enough buzz that makes you warm and lets the adrenaline pump in your veins and excites you even more for the party. The house you rent is off campus but it’s close to Beta’s and Taehyung offers to give you guys a lift to the Lambdas who are a fifteen minute walk away (but you know Taehyung will do anything to not walk anywhere his penny board can’t take him ━ and it’s not even Taehyung who is driving but his friend, Jin).
You can hear the party at Lambdas before you’re even there. The thump of bass coming from the house isn’t hard to miss, especially not with the way it seems to rattle the ground the closer you get. The house is crammed full to capacity and people have already begun to spill onto the lawn by the time you have arrived. A potent waft of alcohol and weed fill your senses and it is all you could really make out in the rambunctious party. You can hardly hear yourself think, let alone what others are saying to you. Yet, you still found a way to have fun almost instantly, drifting away from the guys to party with your friends.
Most of the night is a blur and a haze of confusion but you can remember drinking and drinking some more until you’re sufficiently smashed. You can’t quite recall where you had lost your friends, though you suspect it was after the intense game of beer pong you were suckered into in which you were certain there were no winners or losers as it was just an excuse to drink even more. It’s nearing 1 a.m. when you finally bump into a familiar face, pulling you back from the unruly party and the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins.
You’ve just slipped outside for some fresh air, perched on the front porch, when you notice Jimin is passed out on the lawn below. The other stragglers gathered outside barely take note of him but maybe that’s because he had chosen to faceplant in the shadows under the porch, tucked safely away from the rest of the party. Just before you can even think to walk over to him and make sure he’s still alive, the front door of the house swings wide open and a frenzied Taehyung bursts outside, shortly followed by an equally dumbfounded Jungkook.
“Where the fuck is he?” Taehyung hisses.
“I don’t know,” Jungkook sighs, disgruntled, “but leave it to him to run off and disappear.”
“Looking for someone?”
The two boys startle at your voice. They whirl around to find you taking a sip of the drink in your hand, as if only just noticing your presence. You hadn’t seen them since you parted ways a handful of hours ago in the party, though you’re fairly certain they’re just as smashed as you.
“Ah, babe!” Taehyung beams wolfishly. “What a pleasure seeing you out here. Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen where Jimin went, would you?”
You nod in the direction of the sleeping boy down below. “He’s there. He’s passed out cold, though. What the hell did you do to him?”
“Nothing,” Jungkook says. He grimaces as he hastily follows Taehyung down onto the lawn to stand near Jimin, and you in tow. “Jimin just likes to get out of hand. What should we do, Tae? We can’t just leave him here and Luna’s going to be pissed if she sees him like this.”
Taehyung stares down at Jimin miserably, thinking momentarily. “Well, Luna’s looking for him so we might as well drop him off at her dorm. He can deal with her when he’s sober.”
There’s a brief moment where you spot Jungkook seriously considering this though, as if leaving Jimin on the lawn of a frat house is a safer option than returning him to his girlfriend. Ultimately, he caves and you watch as Taehyung nudges Jimin awake (and by nudge, you mean he slaps the boy across the face) before pulling a very disoriented Jimin to his feet and slinging one of his arms over Taehyung’s neck.
“Fuck, he’s heavy,” Taehyung huffs. “Give me a hand, Jungkook.”
Jungkook nods, stepping forward to take Jimin’s other arm and hook it around his own neck. The two boys seem to be struggling carrying most of Jimin’s body weight, though they’re carrying mostly dead weight as Jimin continues to drift in and out of consciousness.
Before they can leave you offer to help though you don’t know what you can really do so you suspect your inebriated mind just wanted to go with them for the hell of it. Luna’s place isn’t far. It’s a ten minute walk from Lambda’s, but in that ten minutes, none of you talk about anything of real importance except for chuckle and laugh about things that happened at the party.
Eventually you make it to Luna’s, who answers the door angrily after you knock on it as if you’ve disrupted her slumber and frowns when she sees Jimin’s current state. At least she has the decency to thank the three of you. When she shuts the door behind her, the three of you turn to look at one another, almost clueless.
“So, what now?” Taehyung asks. “Head back to the party?”
The thought of making the ten minute walk back to the party in your drunken mind seems like an eternity. That, mixed with the way your feet scream in agony from the heels you’re wearing, you begin to pout and shake your head.
“I can’t walk anymore,” You whine, words drunkenly slurring together. “I’d be fine just sitting here.”
Jungkook’s nose scrunches as he looks at you once over. “How drunk are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, how about we just go back to our place?” Taehyung asks. His arm slides around your waist then, tugging you close to his side. If one thing is for certain, the boy tends to get more handsy the more drunk he is, and you never seem to mind. “I’ve got a fresh bowl we can hit and we can drink there and just chill?”
You and Jungkook consider Taehyung’s offer fleetingly and, to you, it seems much more appealing.
“Sign me up,” You say. “The Lambdas were a bit too over the top for my liking. There’s only so much I can handle.”
Jungkook shrugs and nods in agreement. “Then I guess I’m going with you guys.”
The five minute walk to Beta is short and soon you’re inside the eerily empty house and climbing the steps to Taehyung’s room but not before the three of you raid their cabinets for any type of liquor. Eventually, you’re all lounging in Taehyung’s room, some type of music playing in the background as the three of you pass around a bottle of whisky and the bong Taehyung had promised he had, giggling at each other.
By 2 a.m., you are smashed and faded but blissfully so.
Taehyung and Jungkook are not too far off. It’s Taehyung who comes up with the idea to play strip poker, though with a twist. His version of the game includes: taking a shot anytime one of you loses a round along with either stripping an article of clothing or being allowed to pass it and get dared to do something else, though each person only has three passes.
Jungkook loses the first round, shedding only his jacket. Taehyung and you lose the second round; you decide to strip out of your own cardigan while Taehyung flicks off his hat. Jungkook and Taehyung lose the third round and both kick off their shoes. The game progresses slowly, with the three of you coming up with “clever” loopholes out of the rules, like stripping one sock one round and then another sock the next and all of you are too drunk to really protest. Eventually, the game winds up with Taehyung and Jungkook both in their pants and you still wearing both your shirt and jeans. Both the boys have used one of their passes and are still losing which, you will admit, boosts your confidence ever so slightly especially when you have such a nice view in front of you.
Both boys are toned, with certified gym rat Jungkook’s abs a bit more chiseled, and you know that sober you would cringe at how hard you seem to be drooling over them. Jungkook must notice because he shoots you a wink that has you squirming in your seat.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
“N-No,” You say shortly. “Shut up and go. It’s your turn.”
You end up losing that round, unfortunately, but you have no qualms with stripping out of your jeans and kicking them to the side. The next round, you lose again, except you decide to use one of your passes which has both boys groaning in defeat.
“Remember,” You coo, “play nice boys.”
The two exchange a look and you wait patiently, taking your shot of whisky in the meantime as Taehyung chides you on encouragingly with a cheeky, “Pour up, baby girl.”
You down the shot in one gulp, wincing as it burns down your throat, then chase it quickly with the drink you had stolen from their kitchen. A drowsy smirk tugs at Taehyung’s lips as he takes another rip from the bong, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he hums insouciantly, “I’ve got your dare.”
There’s a split moment where he makes eye contact with you and pushes his hair out of his eyes.
“Come here and kiss me.”
Had you been sober, you might have rolled your eyes at his simple yet assertive dare but, instead, you can’t help but snicker as you lean across to him from your seat on the floor and pull him down for a not so graceful kiss. His whisky coated tongue instantly collides with yours in an open mouthed frenzy that’s full of teeth clashing and wet sounds but it’s hot, too hot, even as Taehyung pulls you closer to him with his hand grasping at your chin. You instinctively react, teeth nipping at his lower lip as you suck hard, momentarily forgetting about Jungkook sitting in the room.
A moan emits from you as your fingers thread through his hair. Jungkook is left to watch but his eyes stay locked on your figure and the way you cave so easily to Taehyung, the way your mouth moves against his. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your position on your hands and knees, or the way you arch your back in an attempt to get closer to Taehyung, and he certainly can’t seem to look away from the tempting curve of your ass jutting in his direction. All Jungkook suddenly wants is for you to be kissing him the same way you’re kissing Taehyung.
You’re only interrupted when he finds the nerve to clear his throat after a few moments. “Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just sit here. Do you guys want me to leave?”
He’s being sarcastic, of course, and when you and Taehyung part to look at the boy, he’s scowling. The two of you chuckle lightly but don’t respond, though you remember the game you’re still playing. Taehyung kisses you one last time before you settle back onto the floor, a sheepish giggle bubbling in your chest. Taehyung loses the next round and he decides to strip down into his underwear though he hasn’t lost yet (the goal is nudity and neither of your drunk selves have enough dignity left to give up before then).
The round after that, you lose again. You decide, once more, to use another one of your passes and the two boys pause, thinking of a dare for you as you take a shot (which, you have realized, only get harder to take as time passes).
“I have one,” Taehyung says at long last.
“Bro,” Jungkook groans, “if you just wanna fuck, let me know. I’ll leave. I don’t think I can sit here and watch you dare her to suck your face again.”
Taehyung laughs and shakes his head. “Easy there. I was just gonna suggest that you━” he points at you before nodding toward Jungkook, “give him a lap dance.”
“A what?” Jungkook’s jaw drops open, his eyes widening. “M-Me?”
You glance up at Taehyung, quirking an eyebrow. “Him?”
Taehyung erupts into another fit of laughter but he’s the only one who finds the situation hilarious because you and Jungkook continue to sit there, dumbfounded. When Taehyung calms himself down, he wipes his eyes and shakes his head.
“Are you seriously telling me you haven’t been noticing?” he asks.
“Noticing what?”
“The way Jungkook keeps eye-fucking you,” Taehyung says simply.
Jungkook gaps. “The fuck? I haven’t.”
“Jungkook, you’re not exactly sly,” Taehyung says. “He’s been doing it the whole night, babe. It’s not the first time he’s done it, too. I just figured we could do him a little favour.”
Your turn to look up at Jungkook and purse your lips. He’s seated in Taehyung’s desk chair and has a frown painted on his face. It’s not like it comes as a surprise to you because he’s constantly trying to flirt with you even when you’re sober but his sudden flustered appearance puzzles you slightly. You’ll admit the idea is ludicrous, but Jungkook is undeniably hot, and grinding on his dick sounds more than wonderful to you in your current state. Either way, you stand to your feet.
“I’ll do it,” You say. “Why not?”
“Wh-What?” Jungkook yelps. “You will?”
“Yeah,” You flash him a pearly smirk. “What? Is confident Jungkookie finally shy?”
At the mention of the taunting nickname, he straightens up in his seat and scowls. “No. I’m just surprised you gave in so easily. You must really like me, huh?”
“Keep dreaming, Jeon,” You retort.
The music is still playing in the background as you slink towards Jungkook’s seated figure. Meanwhile, Taehyung is watching with an amused look on his face and sits back, clearly enjoying the view as he tells you that you have three minutes. As you approach Jungkook, he leans back in his seat and watches you with dark eyes. Jungkook’s eyes sweep over your figure, from the way you muse your hands through your messy hair, your tight tank top with one strap falling down your shoulder, your lacy and scantily clad underwear, and your smooth legs. He gulps at the sight and shifts in his seat.
As soon as you’re standing in front of him, you whirl around so that your back is to him and jutt your butt out just enough to catch his attention as you sway your hips to the music. Your hands ghost up your sides just faintly enough so that chills run down your spine and you lock eyes with Taehyung for a split second to see him grinning. You sit back on Jungkook’s lap and his breath hitches in his throat suddenly. He hates to admit how easily you’re driving him crazy and as soon as you are but he takes the time to enjoy the dance anyway, eyes staying trained on your ass as you grind against him in agonizingly slow circles and right against his dick nestled against his thigh. He can’t help it when a moan emits from him.
“Fucking hell,” he grunts, raking his hands through his hair. You snicker at his reaction, craning your neck to look behind at him.
“Enjoying yourself, Kookie?”
“N-No,” he rasps. This is a lie, of course. “Turn around.”
His command only humours you but you don’t disobey. You get up for a second to spin around and face him before climbing back onto his lap, swinging one leg over his. Before you drop your hips completely on him, you’re rocking them back and forth against the thin air, your hands snaking around his neck. His hands suddenly find purchase on your waist and he yanks you down onto him with a sudden neediness that surprises you, though you don’t complain. You continue to grind against his lap and you can’t help your greedy self when your hands reach out to run up and down his toned chest. He shivers at your slightest touch, his jaw clenched, but he keeps his gaze focused on your eyes, as if challenging you for more. Behind you, Taehyung is taking another hit from the bong and laughs lightly at Jungkook’s reactions.
“Let him touch you,” Taehyung says.
You expect Jungkook to listen to Taehyung and reach out to grab onto you but he hesitates, his hands remaining at your hips. So, instead, you take his hands in yours and begin pulling them up, sliding them along your midriff and up to your chest. You don’t even flinch as you let him cup your boobs over your clothes and you watch him slyly as he gulps.
“Is this the first time you’ve actually touched a girl, Jungkook?” You quip. “You’re gawking at my boobs like it is. Not gonna wet yourself, hm?”
“Fuck off,” he growls, though there’s no malice in his voice.
Instead, he focuses his attention on your breasts and the weight of them in his palm. They’re soft and supple and he squeezes them firmly, jiggles the flesh as he fondles at you blatantly. He hates to admit it but he feels as if he’s going to combust at any second, repressing the sudden urge to tear off your shirt and burrow his head in your chest, your boobs in his mouth. He doesn’t know whether the soft moan that slips from your parted pink lips is intentional to mess with him or because you had been getting carried away yourself. Either way, Jungkook’s certain it’s the hottest thing he’s heard in a while, the hottest thing he’s seen in a while, and he hates how his sudden erection forms, how embarrassing it must be. When you feel his hardened length start to poke at your thigh, you look down at him past your lashes and smirk.
“Are you hard already, Kookie?” You giggle.
Taehyung roars with laughter abruptly and the outburst only makes Jungkook redden.
“I━I━” he stammers helplessly.
You shake your head at him and then purposely press your hips a little more firmly against his, gripping at his shoulders now. You’re challenging him now too, and he doesn’t know what you have in mind but you’re wickedly set on making him cum in his pants before Taehyung stops you.
“Time’s up,” he says.
Jungkook almost groans out loud in frustration when you pull away and step off of his lap. He’s embarrassingly hard now but his drunk self doesn’t try very hard to hide it. Taehyung’s stare is settled on Jungkook as you walk back to your seat but, before you can even sit down, Taehyung is beckoning you over.
“Come here, babe,” he hums. You look at him curiously but move in his direction. “What do you say we help Jungkook with his problem, huh?”
“Help? How?” You question.
“Come sit,” Taehyung gestures to his thigh.
Jungkook watches with silent seething jealousy as you take a seat on Taehyung’s thigh and then he’s kissing you, pressing his lips against your neck. You react almost instantly, your head craning to allow him more access and your eyes clamp shut, your mouth hanging open in delight.
“Tae━” You mewl, tugging at his hair, as if to prompt him wordlessly about Jungkook’s presence. But when does it become too much? Every action seems to keep building and building, that you know where the night surely must be heading; that you crave it.
Taehyung’s tongue swirls at your neck, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin, before he peeks one eye open to look at Jungkook.
“Look at him,” Taehyung hums against you. “Look at how jealous he is right now. Look at how bad he wants to be me right now.”
You take a moment to register his words, your head spinning. You struggle to find Jungkook as Taehyung continues to ravish your neck. Jungkook’s stare is hard, his jaw clenched; his hands are balled into tight fists that let you see the bulging veins in his arms. Is he jealous? Angry?
Taehyung suddenly bites down onto your neck and you gasp in surprise, leaning against his chest. His nimble fingers find the hem of your shirt which he lifts and discards on the floor with ease. Next to come off is your bra. You don’t realize your torso is bare until a slight breeze hits your breasts and perks your nipples and Taehyung reaches up to cup the soft tissue in his large hands and Jungkook can’t look away because, fuck, touching you is all he really wants to do.
“Do you see him staring now?” Taehyung asks. “Do you see how desperate he is for you? Look at how bad he wants to touch you right now, baby girl. Will you let him?”
You’re still staring at Jungkook as Taehyung speaks and note how fast Jungkook’s demeanour has changed. He looks helpless, his erection more prominent in his straining jeans which he shamelessly palms at to feel some sort of relief.
“Better yet,” Taehyung hums, averting your attention back to him. He’s sliding one of his hands down your front and in between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His digits come in contact with your clothed pussy and the sudden touch, light and feathery, makes you jump and gasp. You hadn’t been aware of how wet you had been until he touched you just then and the coil in your stomach only tightens with each passing second. “Will you let him play with you?”
It takes you a second to respond, though that isn’t because you’re struggling to decide. The thought entices you far more than you ever believed it could. Taehyung is suddenly rubbing his fingers against your clothed clit in so very slow circles that it suddenly has you tripping over your own thoughts. You’re biting hard onto your lower lip as you force yourself to nod hastily.
“Do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.
“Fuck, yes,” You whine. “Mmm, Tae━”
Taehyung shifts you in his lap so that your back is pressed against his chest, leaning all your weight against him. It’s hard to focus as one of his hands fondles one of your breasts while his other presses figure eights onto your clit. You’re on full display for Jungkook now, though his eyes fall to the wet spot that forms on your pretty little underwear as your arousal leaks from you.
“How badly do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.
“So badly,” You whimper.
This catches Jungkook’s attention and he leans forward in his seat. Taehyung smirks against you and then he’s moving, withdrawing his hand from between your thighs to hook around the waistband of your underwear. He gives it a quick tug and you fumble to lift your hips so he can pull the useless fabric down your legs. Once it pools at your feet, you kick it off to the side and then Taehyung’s hand returns between your thighs.
“Spread your legs,” he says.
You do as you’re told, pushing your thighs apart but then instinctively squeezing them shut when Taehyung continues to press his fingers against your clit. The sudden stimulation is too much for you and your face begins to heat up so Taehyung uses the chance to push your legs apart for you. He hitches one of your thighs over his own as if to anchor you in place and it works.
“Can you stay like that for me, baby?” Taehyung drawls. “Look at Jungkook for me.”
You nod, your throat dry as you lift your gaze to lock eyes once more with Jungkook. You find the boy gawking at your sex and you moan suddenly. His head snaps up to stare at you with a sudden blazing determination and lust in his eyes before they fall once more to your pussy, admiring the way it pulsates each time Taehyung swipes at your clit or tweaks at your nipples. But the best part? The best part is just how wet you are, your clear juices coating Taehyung’s fingers, spilling onto yours and Taehyung’s thighs with the passing seconds, and suddenly Jungkook is hungry for you. But what he doesn’t know is how you suddenly imagine Jungkook in Taehyung’s place, sat beneath you poised daintily on his lap, his fingers pressing against you.
You twist on top of Taehyung, your own hand reaching up to grasp at your other breast, pinching at the nipple tightly. A delighted moan fumbles from your lips. “Jungkook━ Fuck━”
“It’s nice, yeah?” Taehyung asks aloud to the other boy. “She’s pretty, hm?”
Jungkook nods eagerly and then groans. “She’s dripping. Fuck, it’s so hot.”
Your face burns at his words but you don’t have enough wits to think of a snarky retort like usual.
Taehyung chuckles. “Why don’t you come here then and touch her? Taste her? Is that okay, baby?”
When you realize Taehyung is asking you, you nod eagerly. “Shit, please━ Jungkook, wanna feel you━”
At your request, Jungkook practically tumbles out of his seat. As soon as he’s standing on his feet, the realization seems to hit him and he takes his time, walking to you slowly. His gaze sweeps over your exposed body and he licks his lips, his eyes suddenly darkening. Taehyung doesn’t stop touching you or marking your neck his even as Jungkook walks closer and it hits you in that moment what exactly you’re doing and who you’re with ━ and you fucking love it. Jungkook kneels down in front of you and Taehyung nods in encouragement.
“She’s impatient and feisty,” Taehyung informs. “But that makes her fun to tease.”
“I know how to pleasure a girl,” Jungkook quips.
“But you don’t know how to pleasure Y/N,” Taehyung replies. “You’re too cocky, Jungkookie, and she doesn’t like that. You need to take your time with her and you don’t do that often with girls, do you?”
Jungkook doesn’t respond but, judging by his face, you assume Taehyung is right.
“What do you want me to do?” Jungkook asks. He’s staring at your face now and only your face. His intense stare makes you squirm on Taehyung’s lap, and makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth.
“Touch me,” You rasp. “Touch me, please, Jungkook.”
God, how he loves hearing you moan his name. But the anticipation is killing you. You’ve felt Taehyung’s fingers plenty of time; you’ve never felt Jungkook’s, and the abrupt need seems to grow more intense with each passing second.
“You heard her, Jungkookie,” Taehyung says. He draws his hand away from your heat and kisses your neck softly. “Go on. Touch her. Be gentle, go slow.”
Jungkook is shaking with excitement ━ or maybe it’s just the weed and alcohol in his bloodstream ━ but he eyes you carefully, gnawing down on his lower lip. He reaches out at a tedious pace and hesitates, his fingers hovering over your core. Taehyung is watching with eager eyes whilst planting open mouthed kisses along your shoulders, neck, and jawline. Jungkook finally presses his fingers against your pussy and your reaction is immediate. You toss your head back against Taehyung’s shoulder and jutt your hips forward.
“Nnngh, fuck, Kook━” You whimper. “M-More━ Wanna feel more━”
Jungkook takes that as a good sign and follows after Taehyung, rubbing circles into your clit slowly. He feels just how wet you are, his fingers coating with your cum as they move with ease past your folds, and it’s enough to let the wave of glee wash over him again.
“See? Look how much she loves it already,” Taehyung says. “Keep going.”
Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. As he rubs his fingers over your clit, his other hand comes up in a greedy fashion. He can’t stop himself from slipping a finger past your folds and it takes all you can not to moan out loud but you give up on the prospect of remaining quiet when it feels so good to have both boys on you.
“Let him know how you feel, baby,” Taehyung purs. “How he’s making you feel.”
You struggle to find your voice momentarily, too caught up with the lust and desire but then a cry of delight falls from your lips. “Fuck, ah, Jungkook! That feels s-so good━”
Jungkook’s head snaps up to look at you in pure disbelief.
“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” he huffs. “I never thought you’d moan my name and now you’re so wet and tight and for me━”
“And me,” Taehyung admonishes offhandedly.
Jungkook doesn’t reply but that’s mostly because he’s suddenly fixated on curling his finger inside of you and watching your every reaction. Your hips jut forward and you cry out, panting at the blissful feeling but it isn’t enough. You need more, and you need more now. As if Taehyung can read your mind, he chimes in again, disrupting yours and Jungkook’s reverie.
“Why don’t you have a taste of her?” he asks. “You won’t regret it.”
Jungkook’s eyes light up and he watches as you nod eagerly, desperate pleas coming from your mouth. Jungkook lowers himself down between your thighs and you wait with bated breath before he’s licking a clean stripe against your folds with his flattened tongue. The sudden slippery warmth has your body writhing in pleasure.
“Jungkook━” You cry out. “Oh my god━”
Jungkook grins. Then he’s licking at you again, tasting your sweet succulence, and groans into your hot core.
“Shit,” Jungkook huffs. “You taste amazing.”
He nibbles down slightly on your clit without warning and tugs. You instantly jerk into his mouth, a strangled moan ripping from your throat that sounds something like a scold of his name and a desperate plea for more. “Jungkook!”
Taehyung snickers against your neck and you can feel Jungkook’s lips curl into a taunting smirk between your thighs. Jungkook’s finger still curls deep within you as his tongue returns to lapping at your clit and you can feel his nose brushing against you the deeper he burrows into you. Meanwhile, Taehyung is continuing to ravish your neck, his hands tweaking at your nipples. The onslaught of senses is so much for you that you nearly scream when Jungkook’s tongue dips into your heat so suddenly to accompany his finger. He laps at you hungrily and you gasp, your breath stuttering as your hands come down to tug hard in his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth. It feels fantastic, too incredible for you to put into words, as you feel the wetness of his tongue lap at your walls and suddenly you’re aware of just how susceptible you are to both of the boys near you.
“Fuck, don’t stop, Jungkook,” You moan.
“Now who’s the needy one?” Jungkook coos against your cunt. “Gonna cum on my tongue?”
“P-Please━ Want it so badly, Kook━”
He smacks his lips against you, taking as much as he can of you into his mouth and sucking hard until all you hear are the lewd wet sounds of his tongue and finger working miracles against you. You’re clutching his hair so tight, pushing him closer into your heat but he doesn’t relent. One of his hands comes up to hold onto your waist, to push you firmly back onto Taehyung’s lap and closer into Jungkook’s mouth. You can feel Taehyung’s budding erection poking against your thigh and it’s enough to make you flustered once more.
In an attempt to help Taehyung, you find yourself grinding not only into Jungkook’s mouth but onto Taehyung’s lap, earning a growl into your neck. Taehyung’s free hand comes up to your chin which he grabs roughly. He forces you to look at him and then he’s smashing his lips onto yours in a heated fashion for an entirely ungraceful kiss. It’s needy and hot, completely open mouthed as your tongues mingle in the air and as Taehyung sucks on your lower lip. Yet you tear your gaze from Taehyung to look down at Jungkook as he buries himself further into your pussy, his nose nuzzling against your clit. You’re dripping by now and you can see your own juices smear onto his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you could ever imagine seeing. He doesn’t seem to care as it spills down his neck and suddenly the mere sight has you squirming again. You part from Taehyung’s mouth with a wet pop that rings in your ears and moan.
“Fuck━ nghn, I━I━ think I’m close,” You whimper.
“Fuuck, yes,” Jungkook growls against you.
“Let it go, baby,” Taehyung hums, nibbling at your ear. “Cum for him, for us.”
Jungkook’s pace quickens, pumping his finger faster in you and sucking at your clit until you have no more strength to hold off. Your hands fumble in his hair, trying desperately to pull him closer, and you hate how badly you want your sweet release already. It doesn’t help when Taehyung twists your body ever so slightly so that he can lean down to your breasts and catch one of your nipples between his teeth. His tongue swishes back and forth against the perked bud and you whimper again, the coil in your stomach tightening and loosening.
You’re so close now and Jungkook can hear it, can feel it, can taste it. You don’t have much longer after that before your orgasm is hitting you hard.
“I’m gonna━” You reach out to grasp at Jungkook’s hair, tugging at the roots. “Fuck, Jungkook━”
You cry out suddenly, the coil in your stomach springing apart. Jungkook moans into your pussy as you cum, pulsating around his tongue and finger and dripping into his mouth. You’re reduced to nothing but a whimpering, writhing mess against Taehyung as you buck back and forth into Jungkook’s mouth to ride out your high. Taehyung pulls apart from you to rub circles into your hips and the seemingly gentle move somehow soothes the intense wave of pleasure into something much sweeter. Fire burns at your core and flicks outward until your whole body is warm and numb and then you collapse against Taehyung’s chest, panting hard. Jungkook drinks up every last bit of you and you begin to cringe at the oversensitivity before you gain some of your wits again. You push his head away hastily and this time he relents.
“Did all your little happy wet dreams finally come true, Jeon?” You snicker languidly.
The boy sits back on his knees and looks up at you, locking gazes with yours. You can finally see his face, his tousled black hair, his swollen red lips, and chin, all of which are covered in your perfect sheen. He licks at his lips and wipes at his chin and neck where his tongue can’t reach and he does all of this without breaking eye contact with you. A small smirk forms on his face and suddenly you’re filled with an intense need for payback.
“Yeah, you act confident now but you seemed to enjoy it when you were riding my face,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, about to reply before he adds, “So, you’re welcome.”
“You’re impossible,” You huff, pushing yourself off of Taehyung’s lap.
“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Taehyung mewls behind you. “We still need you.”
“Oh, I know,” You quip. You reach down to grab onto Jungkook’s chin, forcing him to look up at you. “But it’s my turn, don’t you think, Tae?”
Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. Jungkook, however, hardly looks bothered, though he seems a little taken aback by your sudden assertiveness when you begin pulling him up to his feet before pushing him back onto the bed. Taehyung scoots over so that the three of you can fit comfortably on his bed and then you’re moving, crawling over to Jungkook on your hands and knees.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Jungkook asks. “Because this is sexier than it is scary.”
You’re hovering over his crotch when he speaks, your greedy hands reaching forward to brush against his hard dick straining in his jeans. He nearly jolts in his seat at the sudden touch and you and Taehyung giggle again.
“Mmm, baby, teach him a lesson,” Taehyung hums. “Suck him off nice and slow but don’t let him cum.”
“Not unless he begs for it,” You say wickedly.
Taehyung stifles a chuckle. “I told you she’s feisty, Jungkookie.”
The younger boy is eyeing you carefully as you busy yourself by undoing the belt buckle on his jeans. He acts unimpressed, unfazed, as you unbutton his jeans and began sliding them off his legs, but you can see the needy and impatient glint in his eyes. Your eyes fall immediately to the ever present straining bulge in his boxers and you gulp in response, licking your lips. You can’t help yourself when you reach out to brush your fingers faintly along his length. He jolts in his seat and grits his teeth, shooting you a hard glare.
“Are you seriously going to tease me?” Jungkook grumbles. “We can skip all of that, y’know━”
“It’s payback, Jeon,” You hum, running your fingers down his dick and then back up again. “Where’s the fun in it if I skip all of the teasing?”
“You know,” Taehyung murmurs from beside you. He’s reclining back, watching you with intense eyes and is completely shameless about his prominent erection contained by his boxers. “I’m surprised the idiot hasn’t referred to his dick yet as Jungcock.”
You giggle, an all too innocent and sweet sound for the way you’re palming at Jungkook’s dick. Jungkook, who is apparently having a rather difficult time keeping up with his surroundings while your fingers continue to work against him, scoffs. His eyebrows knit together as he throws a beady glare at the older boy.
“You’re ruining the mood,” he grunts.
Taehyung clicks his tongue against his teeth, a smirk tugging at his luscious lips. “Of course. I digress.”
You turn your attention back to Jungkook who’s staring down at your hand with parted lips and a crease in his brows. Without warning, you grasp him through his boxers and he groans suddenly, bucking forward. The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you peel back the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his dick which springs out from it’s confines. He’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it.
“You’re staring again,” Jungkook hums when he notices you pause, your eyes wide. “Sure you don’t like what you see?”
You shake yourself from your daze and frown. “Shut up.”
The boy starts to chuckle at your flustered expression but yelps when you clasp your fingers around the base of his cock. A beautiful moan falls from his lips and excites you even more. You start pumping him slowly, guiding your hands up and down his length in careful and measured motions, wiping your thumb across his tip each time you reach it. Jungkook shudders in your touch, his teeth coming down to gnaw hard on his lower lip. His eyes are glued to your hands working against him, his face scrunching up in pure euphoria.
“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts, his head lolling back. “Stop teasing me and go faster.”
You don’t listen. If anything, you slow your pace and it has him so frustrated that he lets an involuntary whimper escape him. He bucks into your clenched hand, practically begging for more but remains quiet, safe for his heavy panting.
“You heard her, Kook,” Taehyung says. “Beg for her.”
“There’s no way I’m begging,” Jungkook hisses through gritted teeth. “Never. I never have and never will.”
“Bullshit,” You scoff. You fondle at his balls with your other hand and he moans again. Your hand comes to a complete halt all of a sudden, interrupting Jungkook as he is about to speak. Before he can protest, you lean down and lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around him once to taste his saltiness. His hips rut forward into you but you pull back almost immediately and find Jungkook gaping. You meet his desperate eyes for a steady gaze. “Beg. Just once, Jungkookie.”
Jungkook’s stare wavers as you run your fingers along his tip, squeezing slightly. He tries to compose himself, to remain calm, but when you are relentless, he caves very easily. He only gives in when you kiss the base of his cock. And those eyes ━ fuck, the way your eyes turn so wide and already look so fucked out. How could he resist you?
“Fuck, fuck, okay,” he gasps. “I need more, baby, please. Ah, please━ You feel so fucking good.”
His needy pleas satisfy you and your lips curl into a devious grin. You lower yourself on him suddenly, licking a clean stripe up his length and he moans loudly. You enclose your mouth around his tip and suck, earning a small growl from him as he pushes his hips forward for more. In the next second, you sink your mouth down his length, taking as much of him as you can.
“Fuck!” he moans abruptly. “Ahh, shit, that feels amazing, baby.”
You hollow out your cheeks as you pull your head up and then back down, starting at an even pace that has him moaning and writhing beneath you. He feels much bigger in your mouth but you don’t mind even when he bucks himself into you unexpectedly and hits the back of your throat. The action makes you gag around him and, in return, he curses at the way it feels.
“K-Keep doing that,” he mumbles. “Please, fuck, just like that.”
His fingers thread in your hair and he pulls you down greedily on him but you don’t refuse.
“Can you do it, baby girl?” Taehyung questions. His hand finds his way on your back where he rubs gentle circles into your skin. “Can you take all of him in your mouth?”
You nod carefully around Jungkook’s hardened length.
“Good girl,” Taehyung smirks. “Go slow.”
You follow his orders, sinking gradually onto Jungkook until you feel the tip of him hitting the back of your throat. You gag once more but, instead of pulling back, you shut your eyes and take a few deep breaths in through your nose. In, out, in, out, and then you swallow. Jungkook’s reaction is sudden and intense. He bucks into your mouth unwillingly and moans even louder, his fingers clutching at your roots.
“That’s it, baby,” Taehyung hums and his sudden presence is comforting.
“A-Again,” Jungkook stammers. “Again, please━ holy shit, you feel amazing.”
You swallow again and then a third and each time you can feel yourself sinking lower onto him. Tears prickle at your eyes as your nose is suddenly pressed against his lower abdomen but his reactions are well worth it and so you continue.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung says, planting a chaste kiss against your shoulder. “You deserve some more attention, hm?”
His fingers slowly rub circles down your back, his lips following your arch and has you shivering beneath him, before stopping at the dip just above your ass. He’s kneeling behind you now, his fingers massaging into your thighs. You sigh against Jungkook when you feel Taehyung’s fingers continue their trek to your ass, rubbing you carefully. You, in response, push your hips back, waiting for more.
“You’re still so wet, baby,” Taehyung says. “I bet you’d come with one touch of my finger.”
With Jungkook buried hilt deep inside your mouth, you’re hardly prepared for when Taehyung slips his fingers underneath to your folds. It’s embarrassing to admit how right he is. You react instantly, moaning around Jungkook and jutting your hips back for more. The simple vibration has Jungkook groaning, his hips bucking forward. You hadn’t even been aware of just how wet you are before Taehyung pointed it out but then you can feel it, pulsing out of you and dripping down the top of your inner thighs.
“But you need more, don’t you?” Taehyung asks. “How about my cock? Will you let me fuck you, baby girl?”
You nod eagerly, the simple question exciting you even more. Taehyung chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to the arch of your back.
“But you’ll have to be good and keep pleasuring Jungkook too, okay?” Taehyung says.
You hum in response and swallow around Jungkook as if to tell both boys that you have no plans on stopping. Jungkook twitches inside you and scrunches his eyes shut.
“Fuck, Taehyung,” he grumbles. “Hurry up. Any time you touch her, she swallows. It feels so good.”
Taehyung snickers but he takes his time. He runs his fingers up and down your folds until you’re moaning needily against Jungkook. You look over your shoulder to see Taehyung’s fingers wrapped around his own hardened and pulsating erection, pumping himself a few times as he stares at you carefully. He positions himself behind you and takes the chance to run his tip and length along your folds. You whimper suddenly, hoping your desperate noises will spur him on.
“You want more, baby?” Taehyung asks.
You hum again, your voice muffled and hoarse.
“Okay,” he sighs. “Only because you’ve been so good.”
You have no time to brace yourself from the sudden impact of feelings. He doesn’t do much except for push himself into you, past your folds. It’s only just the tip and yet your heart jolts in your chest, the coil in your stomach tightens. It feels so good to finally have something of larger girth in you that you gap, simultaneously sinking down further onto Jungkook. The two boys grunt above you, both of them panting hard.
“You feel so good, baby,” Taehyung mumbles. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
He leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest on the dip of your lower back to guide you. He slowly, so very slowly, pushes himself into you, inch by inch, so you can feel the way he stretches you open, feel the way he buries into you. Your leaking arousal only proves to be of an advantage, letting him easily push into you without any trouble. Your fingers grip the bed sheets beneath you in an ironclad grip and you squeak when he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. You nearly gag around Jungkook again, who’s still panting and writhing above you, but the way Taehyung’s tongue marks patterns into your shoulder comforts you. You whine against Jungkook, pushing your hips back for more and the simplicity of your action has Taehyung’s breath hitching in his throat.
“So warm,” he grunts and then sighs against your back. “You always feel so amazing.”
He still hasn’t moved and you’re beginning to grow impatient, distraught over the feeling of him rock hard inside you but unmoving. You debate pulling apart from Jungkook to yell at Taehyung but you assume he can understand your haste judging by the way your body writhes beneath him, your fingers clench into fists. He pulls out in one languid movement, his breath stuttering, until only his tip is left before he pushes himself back in, equally as slow. He sets at a steady, easy pace that, at the very least, lets you grasp onto some sensible thoughts and pushes you to keep pleasing Jungkook. Jungkook can’t take it anymore; he starts rutting his hips up into your mouth with gritted teeth. It’s a hot, erotic mess of mingled moans and groans but you never want it to stop ━ in fact, you want more.
“You like that, baby?” Taehyung grunts.
You nod hurriedly, humming in response.
“Ah, fuck━” Taehyung groans. “Want it harder?”
You nod once more, this time eagerly. When Taehyung pulls back one more time, he slams himself back into you without any warning and you jerk forward, sinking down onto Jungkook. The younger boy moans, his head lolling back as his fingers twisting in your hair. You don’t expect Taehyung to do the same thing again, pull out slowly and then push himself back in with more force, but he does, and he repeats the action again and again until he abandons it for a whole new pace. Soon, he’s thrusting into you hard and fast but always making sure his hips reconnect with yours before pulling out so you can feel him practically in your throat.
“Like being fucked like this?” Taehyung asks. “You like being used like a little slut?”
His thrusts are relentless suddenly, jerking your body and back and forth until he’s fucking you in a way that has you sucking off Jungkook just right so that you hardly have to put in any effort. Although his hard thrusts feel amazing, each time you’re pushed forward, you sink further down onto Jungkook unwillingly and that, paired with the way Jungkook frantically fucks himself into your mouth, you nearly gag each time as he hits the back of your throat, drool pooling at your lips and dribbling down your chin. Tears prick at your eyes from the feeling and it’s too pleasing to quit, to pull away from Jungkook just yet. Jungkook’s staring down at you when he notices your scrunched up face. You’re surprised when his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing reassuringly into your cheekbone.
“You’re doing so━ ah, fuck━ so well, baby,” he rasps.
You can taste the saltiness of precum on the tip of your tongue and you wonder how close he is. You have no qualms in finishing him off then and there but soon the pleasure you’re receiving from Taehyung becomes too much. Soon, he’s hitting you at an angle that shakes something in you. You pull apart from Jungkook with a loud pop, saliva and cum coating his length and your lips, and a gasp wretches from your throat.
“Fuck!” You cry hoarsely. “Ah, T-Taehyung!”
You’re too weak to push yourself up and end up burying your head in Jungkook’s lower abdomen, feeling the heat consume you. You’re near numb, senseless, as you let Taehyung ravish your body, fuck you hard into the mattress and Jungkook. It’s a frantic build up, an intense wave of emotions that you seem to pass through, and you can hardly bring yourself to react. All you can hear is the sound of moaning and skin against skin and the heat seems to make its way up to your head, making you warm and fuzzy. Jungkook gently pulls at your face, lifting you up and bringing you to him so that he can smash his lips onto yours and all you can taste is bitter liquor, you, and him, but that doesn’t stop him from sucking on your lower lip even when you pull apart to moan and gasp.
“T-Tae,” You sob. “Fuck, Tae, I━I’m c━close━”
“Cum for me, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you.”
You shake your head frantically at the sensitive sting between your legs still raw from your orgasm from Jungkook, shutting your eyes. Taehyung’s hands find their way onto your hips and he pulls you down his length until you’re balls deep and pauses. He lifts your hips and you can feel him twitch inside you that it even makes your own thighs tremble and shake. You’re sure you’ll collapse on him if he doesn’t hold onto you and he must realize this too because he grips your hips tight to continue thrusting into you. Soon you’re tumbling towards your high. Taehyung’s pumps are frantic, growing sloppy with each passing second, as he pushes you to yours and his high. The coil snaps in your stomach again and you’re in a moment of freefall where you’re stunned by the wave of pleasure. Then, Taehyung is bringing you back down to reality with his hard thrusts, the way he moans, and the lewd wet sounds of him pumping himself into you.
“Ah, T-Tae━” You whimper. “So good, fuck━”
His name falls from your lips in a repeated mantra. You crumble beneath him, collapsing entirely against Jungkook, who’s brushing your hair away from your face. You’re shaking with each touch, your walls pulsing around Taehyung and clenching hard. He moans and curses behind you and you know he must be close to his high because he, too, is fumbling for it. His thrusts are even more hasty and soon he’s reaching his climax. His moans increase in volume and his thrusts become sloppier until he finally pulls his cock from your walls and nearly collapses against your back.
With his hand clenched tightly around his shaft, he jerks himself off until he’s releasing onto your back in white hot spurts. He’s panting hard, sweat coating his forehead, but he takes the time to press chaste kisses along your back and shoulders as the two of you attempt to calm your shrill hearts. It’s silent in the room for a moment despite your panting breaths. Taehyung takes a moment to grab his discarded shirt and wipe at the mess he’s made before he collapses next to you at long last with a huff of air. You moan wearily, rolling off of Jungkook to lay on your back between the two.
“God, you’re amazing,” Taehyung sighs.
You giggle up at the boy and lean towards him to kiss. His fingers rake in your hair and a few silent seconds pass before you’re nearly back to an even breathing pace. That’s when you notice Jungkook, his hand gripped tightly around his still painfully hard dick.
“Jungkook,” You pur his name, catching his attention. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he quips.
“It’s your turn,” Taehyung points out. Jungkook glances at Taehyung and then down at you, quirking an eyebrow.
“W-Well, I just thought━” Jungkook stammers. “I just thought you’ve had enough. It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
“I call bullshit again,” You scoff.
“Baby girl,” Taehyung hums, “do you want Jungkookie to fuck you?”
You nod eagerly but Jungkook doesn’t seem too convinced, or maybe he’s hesitant. Taehyung’s eyeing him closely, curiously, before he gaps. He bursts out into a fit of chuckles, earning both yours and Jungkook’s attention.
“Shit, of course,” Taehyung grins. “He’s probably gonna let go the minute he’s in you. You’re close, hm?”
“Only because she’s already been down on me,” Jungkook grumbles.
“You know that’s not it,” Taehyung replies. “You’ve been wanting this forever.”
Jungkook’s eyes suddenly darken as he glares at the older boy. “Taehyung.”
“Wait, what?” You ask, turning to gawk at both.
“Jungkook has a little crush on you,” Taehyung smirks. “This is all he’s ever wanted. I bet he’ll bust a nut the second he fucks you and he’s embarrassed.”
You gasp as you turn to face Jungkook who looks entirely disgruntled but you’re more shocked about the fact that Jungkook likes you than anything else. Jungkook, notoriously arrogant fuckboy, who’s seemingly made it his mission to give you a headache every waking moment by trying to flirt with you. And maybe you’ve always sort of known it; maybe you’ve always sort of felt the same.
“That’s not true!” Jungkook protests. “I━I━ Well, Tae hardly finishes when he’s with another girl. He’s jacked off to the thought of you before, too━”
Taehyung starts. “Fuck off━”
You’re stuck between the bickering boys, staring up at both of them with a dumbfounded expression. Before either boy can strangle the other, you’re speaking up and interrupting them.
“I don’t mind,” You say. “I’m just… surprised.”
Both boys are silent now, aggravated probably, and you giggle. You reach up to rake your fingers in Taehyung’s hair and then look up at Jungkook, using your other hand to grab onto his chin once more and force him to face you.
“Come here, you idiot,” You drawl. “I want you to fuck me. Wanna feel your dick.”
Jungkook seems taken aback but then his eyes are sweeping down your body and he writhes in his seat. Before he can protest, you’re pulling him down onto you to kiss. It’s passionate and rough but hot altogether as your lips smack against one anothers. Jungkook’s desperate situation seems to hit him again, especially when you snake one of your hands down to his length and wrap your fingers around him to jerk him off. He pulls apart from you, gulping.
“Fuck, okay, okay,” he gasps. “I need to be in you right now, please.”
You and Taehyung smirk as Jungkook shifts around on the bed to kneel between your legs. He pauses, glancing up at you once more and noting the way you bite your lower lip seductively, before finally pushing himself in. He goes slow, but not as gradual as Taehyung. You can still feel him stretching you open and he groans. He seems to slide the rest of the way in with a lewd squelch sound because of just how wet you are and then he’s buried balls deep, fitting so snug within you.
“Holy shit,” he whines. “You weren’t kidding, Tae. She feels amazing.”
Taehyung hums in agreement. “What does she feel like? Let her know, Kookie.”
Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut momentarily to focus. “Wet,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Warm, tight ━ fuck, so tight.”
He marvels at the feeling, wonders how you can still clench so tightly around him despite being stretched wide by Taehyung. He bows his head to rest in the crook of your neck and moans. His words are enough to spur on your own reaction and you whimper against him.
“Oh, fuck, Jungkook━”
The sensitivity you feel in your core met with his hard cock makes you cringe but simultaneously pleases you and you’re bucking your hips for more. He groans at the feeling, his hands flying down to grip your hips. He’s big, stretching you wide, but you feel anything but pain except for the sharp burning sensation as the intensity of your past orgasms start to hit you. He rolls his hips back and then thrusts into you so hard that you yelp and jerk back on the bed.
“Go easy on her, Jungkook,” Taehyung admonishes. “She’s not a doll.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sighs, nipping at your throat. “You just feel so good, Y/N.”
“I’m okay,” You reassure. You feel his length twitch within you and your head lolls back. “Fuck, I feel more than okay.”
“Can we try something?” Taehyung asks.
He receives two weak nods in response. Jungkook pauses, shifts the two of you until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips, his dick never once slipping from your core. The older boy grabs onto you and yanks you onto his hips.
“What do you say we give Y/N the pleasure she deserves?” he asks. He pushes his length past your folds and is rewarded by the sound of your moans as your jaw unhinges. “Think you can handle both of us, baby?”
“Fuck, yes,” You gasp.
Jungkook seems just as enticed by this. He’s careful as he pushes his cock into you and your reaction is explosive. With Taehyung already stretching you wide, you wonder how Jungkook will fit but it’s snug and perfect. You can feel him stretching you further, inch by glorious inch, and he hasn’t even begun moving when your walls clench around the two of them. Taehyung hisses in your ear and Jungkook pauses at once, sputtering for air, giving you time to adjust. When Jungkook pushes himself further into your cunt, rubbing against Taehyung’s cock and your own walls, you can’t help the delicious moan that falls from your lips.
“Oh my god,” You whimper. “Fuck, fuck, that feels so fucking good━”
It’s such a sticky, hot mess, and all you can hear is the sound of guttural moans and grunts. You jut your hips forward, a silent plea for something more. Jungkook’s hand grasps at your ass and then he’s pulling out. He growls suddenly, thrusting his hips forward and the sensation suddenly overwhelms you. As he picks up a pace that leaves you breathless, Taehyung slowly thrusts into you and the pleasure becomes too much. Your hands reach out to grab at anything, fingers digging eagerly into Jungkook’s chest, Taehyung’s sides.
“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook grunts. His face is scrunched in pleasure and concentration, his mouth hanging open.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung growls. “You like being stretched wide like this, huh? Such a good girl too. Fuck━”
He’s sweating, but so are you, and all you can hear is the sound of yours and the boys’ moans, the vulgar wet slap with each thrust Jungkook makes. It’s only amplified with each small leisurely thrust Taehyung makes into your throbbing pussy, his dick rubbing against Jungkook’s with each thrust. Your walls tighten around Jungkook and Taehyung as the seconds pass and you know you’re already close to your third orgasm of the night but you try to hold off despite the room spinning. All you can do is lay there for Jungkook to ravish and control, for Taehyung to enjoy, too caught up in the moment. Your breasts bounce wildly with each thrust Jungkook makes and his gaze seems fixated on your chest before flickering down to watch himself disappear inside you each time. Taehyung is raking his fingers through your hair, soothing you through your next climax and it’s close.
“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, panting hard. “I’m not gonna last.”
You push your hips forward as if to probe him on and he growls.
“No, shit, let me enjoy this, baby,” he whines. “Ah, so tight━”
He’s grumbling to himself, cursing under his breath and you smirk tiredly. Jungkook leans his head down to kiss at your chest, catching one of your nipples in his warm mouth. His tongue swishes back and forth over the perked bud and your chest arches into his face. Your fingers are clutching tight at his hair even as he obeys and adds more force with each thrust, slowly picking up his pace. His mouth widens and he sinks lower on your breast, humming against you in pleasure. Taehyung’s own pace quickens. It’s not as relentless as Jungkook’s but he makes sure to help aid you to your high, ramming his hips into yours until both their cocks slip into a seamless pattern. All you can focus on is the crude wetness, the way their dicks threaten to slip from your hold at how sloppy and wrecked your cunt becomes.
“Ah, yes,” You hiss. “Fuck, yes, yes━ So good, oh my god━ Right there━”
Your voice is cut off by a loud moan. You feel the familiar wave hit you once more and this time you hardly have any strength to fight it off or welcome it.
“I can’t━” You wail suddenly. “Fuck, I can’t━ I’m gonna cum━”
You’re fumbling for words to warn him that you’re close before you’re cuming around them. Their names wrench from your throat in no discernible pattern, accompanied by vulgar curses. Your body writhes between the two boys, your chest arching into his mouth, your legs tightening around Jungkook’s waist.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” Jungkook coos. “Come on, wanna feel you cream all over us━”
Stars form behind your eyelids and explode into galaxies as they swirl down your spine and to the tip of your toes, making them and your fingers curl in delight. Your vision grows blurry and tears stream down your face at the build up of pressure finally being released for the third time and you can’t help it when your mantra turns into delighted sobs and whimpers. You’re clenched so tight that Jungkook feels as if he hardly has any space to move and the confinement of his length has him gasping. He pulls apart from your breast to watch your scrunched up face with hooded eyes. He moans again, and desperately leans down to suck at your jawline.
You’re too spent to keep up with him or Taehyung as he helps you further to your high but you know Jungkook is close when his thrusts become messy, quick spurts. You gasp each time he thrusts up into you until he’s finally cuming.
“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna cum━ Gonna let us fill you up, baby?”
“Please, please, wanna feel it,” You mewl.
He slams his hips into yours and stills for a moment as he releases into you in one hot wave and emits a beautiful moan of your name. You’re panting hard even as he rides out both your highs with a few more incredibly sloppy pumps before he finally collapses against your chest. The two of you are struggling to catch your breaths, your heart beating in your ears.
The room is silent, blissful, and it takes you a few moments of basking in it before you’ve regained your breath. Your fingers rake in Jungkook’s soft and sweaty hair and you hum in content. His mouth presses a few open mouthed and hot kisses along your neck and jawline before connecting with your own mouth. This time, the kiss is chaste and you smile against his lips before he’s pulling out of you. You moan at the missing feeling of his warmth and the way his own cum leaks from your core, down Taehyung’s cock, and your own thighs.
But Taehyung isn’t done. He thrusts up into you to ride out his own high, pushing Jungkook’s release back into you. His pace is steady, deep, and all you can both do is moan and gasp for air.
“Fuck, Tae,” You rasp tiredly. “Cum for me, baby.”
The boy gasps for air, nearly fumbling behind you to reach his high. “Gonna make this pussy mine. Fuuck━”
When Taehyung finally reaches his own high, it’s in another sticky stream of hot cum, each fluid mingling with the other in a pitiful mess. He pulls his slackened length from you and you whimper at sudden the loss, core and legs aching. As you slide onto the bed between the two tired and breathless boys, Jungkook wipes at your glistening core with a shirt and you sigh in content.
“Why haven’t we done that before?” You gasp, earning a chuckle from both. Jungkook lets out a boisterous laugh and you flick his arm. “If you say anything dumb, we’re never having a round two.”
“Round two?” he asks, wriggling his brows. “You want this to happen again?”
You nod, though you can already start to feel yourself succumb to sleep as it creeps upon you. “What do you think, Tae?”
“I think,” The older boy hums, “that’s your best idea yet.”
Jungkook seems surprised, excited even, and you smile sleepily. Taehyung throws his arm over your waist and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping you in his arms as he slips off to sleep. 
Before you fall asleep that night, you snake your arm up Jungkook’s chest and let your hand rest against his beating heart which you can still feel beating shrilly even long after your messy night together.
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You awake to the familiar sound of your alarm.
It’s loud, annoying, and jolts you awake only to toss you into a haze of muddled confusion and an incredibly terrible hangover. Your head throbs and your body aches. Sunlight splashes in from the closed blinds and illuminates your face, making you squint.
“Turn that off, Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Taehyung snaps, his voice muffled and aggravated.
Your mind is too groggy to realize he’s sleeping next to you, too groggy to suddenly remember what happened the night before. Until, of course, you feel your limbs tangled with not only Taehyung’s but another’s. When you crane your neck to look, you see Jeon Jungkook splayed out beside you sleeping peacefully and you gasp.
The events of the night before suddenly flood your mind and everything is hazy up until your wild time with the two boys. Your muddled sober mind alerts your heart and suddenly it’s beating hard and fast in your chest as you register the situation. You’re used to waking up with a naked Taehyung by your side but never were you used to waking up next to a naked Taehyung and Jungkook.
Jungkook stirs in his sleep then and you curse silently, diving for your phone on the floor before realizing your drastic mistake. Your core is still tender and your legs feel so delicate, nearly caving in beneath you as you wobble precariously. Somehow, you manage to grab your phone and tap the snooze button hastily. Taehyung’s still half asleep on his side but Jungkook lays on his back and you’re surprised to see him looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow and a tiny smirk.
“Don’t you dare say anything,” You hiss. “Holy shit, that wasn’t a dream?”
You gnaw on your lower lip and reach down blindly to grab the nearest article of clothing on the floor (one of Taehyung’s shirts) to toss over your bare body. To soothe your aching muscles, you resort to kneeling on the edge of the bed.
“It wasn’t,” Taehyung murmurs.
“Nice to know you think our dicks are dream worthy though,” Jungkook snorts. “So when’s our round two?”
Your promise from the night before dawns on you all too suddenly and, though you feign your usual annoyance for both boys, the potential prospect of another night with the two of them thrills you to no end.  
“I━ I━” You stammer.
“Come back here, baby,” Taehyung muses. “It’s too early to be up right now. You can sleep a bit longer before you pretend you hate the both of us.”
Your eyes flicker down to your phone to check the time: 6 a.m. You can barely walk, let alone function this early in the morning, even without the added stress of your hangover, and sleep seems far too appealing to ignore. Maybe you can stay for a few more hours…
“Fine,” You grumble. You crawl back between them and wiggle around until you’re laying back on the bed. “But you’re making me that cup of coffee when I wake up, Taehyung.”
“Anything else, princess?” Taehyung grins.
“Maybe run me a bath too,” You wince as you settle back against the bed. “Everything hurts.”
“Will do,” Jungkook says. “Gotta do the most to make sure we get that second round. Now, come here━”
The boys snicker and, soon, the three of you have slipped back into a peaceful slumber.
You know that when you wake you’ll profusely deny that the night before and the morning after had ever happened; that you’ll never again find yourself in either Jungkook’s or Taehyung’s bed, much less with the both of them at the same time ━ but you find that you never really listen much to rules anyway.
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jtrbluv · 9 months ago
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drivers license | jjk
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summary: one day, a boy had promised forever to you in his car. a year later, you find yourself crying in a car you can call your own, driving alone past his street.
pairing: jungkook x reader (with a side of emotional support boy best friend!hoseok)
genre: angst, fluff
warnings: PG-13, profanity, age gap (2 years; oc is a junior and jungkook is a college freshman), broken promises (infidelity but it sure feels like it), based off the irl rumored love triangle in which the song was possibly based off of (yes, i follow disney love triangles), open ending >:) 
word count: 10.4k
A/N: and it’s finally here!!! this fic has given me brain rot for the past month and a half but i am glad i finished it! this is the longest oneshot i’ve ever written i think, and i’m sorry it’s literally angst but you all know i’m not primarily an angst writer anyway :O ! this fic was very challenging for me to write, but i’m not mad at the end result. thank you sososo much for @dreamystuffers , @nurseryy , @bangtans-peaceful-piegon , and @koushiningg for all reading it and hyping it up,,, i really do NOT deserve yall!!!
playlist <3 ; sour ver.
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February 12, 2020
“Y/N! I’m so proud of you!” The boy beamed, eyes glistening and crinkling up at the crevices—running towards you with open arms. 
You leaped into his embrace, bodies colliding, emulating a scene out of every single shitty romcom ever. One hand is enveloped in his hair while your other hand is clutching tightly to your driving test with a big, bold check mark on the checkbox signifying that you passed. 
“Did I do it? D-did I actually pass?” You stuttered, a little out of breath from the wave of ease that washed over you—the hard part was finally over. You can finally breathe again above the surface. Except, the only thing that was suffocating you was the worn down metal box that used to be your mom’s car, your test anxiety ricocheting off the suede seats and flying around your driving examiner—only to be released once they handed you back your paper with a smile as they left the car. 
He chuckled, and you feel his body shake against your more petite frame as he does, “According to the paper, I think so,” he said, voice slightly muffled from his head being buried deep into your hair. 
You pulled back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but the radiant smile painted across your face displaying that you were much happier than any other emotion that was present. Chuckling, you gazed intently into his eyes, “You know I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”
Releasing your grip on him, your arms left his small waist, your fingers tightened around the edges of the paper—still in disbelief at the fact that you’ve just tackled such a pivotal checkpoint in your life. The boy still has his arms wrapped around you, chin resting on your shoulder. You’re completely incognizant of how he looks at you with so much adoration in his eyes while your own eyes bore into the paper—nearly about to tear the thing in half from gripping onto it so hard. “You would’ve been just fine with or without me Y/N.”
His words tear your vision away from the paper in your hands. Always so humble, you thought to yourself. Shaking your head at his dismissal, you turn around while still in his embrace, “I love you. Thank you, really.”
His eyes softened at the sight of your own, a smile gracing his lips, 
“I love you more.”
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July 28, 2020
The fabric underneath your fingertips felt weightless, the layers of chiffon and intricately embroidered accents never something you ever thought would ever get to see with your own two eyes, let alone trying to shimmy your way into the fabric without busting through the seams. 
After minutes of intense and meticulous, yet careful tugging, all while trying to zip up the back of the dress—you let out a long awaited exhale in victory once the fabric rested on your shoulders, your back slumping and arms falling to your sides against the fabric.
Staring down at your feet that were obscured by the deep maroon hues of the skirt, you gaped at the dress in awe. Unable to wait any longer and almost being able to visualize the curious, doe eyes of the boy sitting right outside this very curtain, you tugged it open with a shaky hand,hiking up your dress with the other while taking a small step outside the dressing room. 
Your sudden presence knocked him out of his trance— his phone subsequently dropping to his lap. Hesitantly, his eyes trailed up and down your figure as you warily inched towards him.
He tried so hard to soak up every inch of this moment, from the hem of your dress, to the wrinkles of the fabric, the embroidering on your torso—to the way your hands are curled up into tiny fists at your sides, your hair cascading down the sides of your shoulders and glistening under the lighting of the shop, the small smile that decorated your lips, and your eyes that were much too shy to meet his own. 
Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so beautiful in his life. 
Shooting up from his seat, phone tumbling to the floor in which you gasp at slightly, he made his way towards you. He had this look in his eyes, and he carefully and unhurriedly stepped towards you like you were made of gold, a precious artifact in a museum that he felt like he shouldn’t even have the luxury of laying eyes on. 
You smiled, a small chuckle tumbling out of your lips, exacerbating the fondness he had for you even more, if that was even possible. “Jungkook?”
This was something you’ve always dreamed of—picking out a prom dress in the quaint shop downtown that everyone in your school would pay a visit to when the time of year came. Jungkook by your side, of course. Except in your case, it was the middle of July, the summer before your junior year and Jungkook was about to take off for college in a few months. 
You truly couldn’t have asked for anything more. 
He took both of your hands into his, your fingers resting on the base of his palms, “Y/N, you look absolutely stunning, love.”
“I mean, I don’t kn—”
He shushed you, the sparkles in his eyes dancing around in his hazy irises. The iffyness in your voice made him pout slightly, but the cinch between his brows vanishes just as fast as it appeared, “Just when I thought you couldn’t be any more gorgeous, and here you are, standing right in front of me.”
Your smile can’t help but stretch even wider, your head instinctively looking down at the floor to mask the bashful nature that only comes out when you’re around him. But your happiness is short-lived when the numbers on the price tag knock you out of your stupor, “I do love the dress... but it’s way out of my budget.”
He nodded, observing the way the corners of your lips sank and your fingers started to slide out of his palms. He clasped onto your hands before they could fall out of his bigger ones, brows shooting up at the sudden idea that sprouts into his mind. He doesn’t even think twice before suggesting. “I’ll help you pay for it.”
Startled at both his actions, as well as the words that befall from his lips, you immediately shook your head in declination, “No, I can’t let you do that. Especially when you’ve been saving up for a car.”
“Fuck the car, there’s plenty of time for that,” he intruded on your doubts once more, not letting your skepticism see the light of day, “now, it would be an absolute crime for me to take you to prom in a dress that isn’t this one.”
The words entangled your current thoughts into a tangled, endless vine—twisting and ensnaring its way around the depths of your mind and heart. You’re barely able to voice your concerns, because you know he would just shut you down. “Even then Jungko–”
He squeezed your hands once more, his eyes crinkling up slightly, sparkling much, much brighter than the sparkles that you were covered head to toe in, “This dress was made for you, Y/N. Let me help you this one time.”
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December 2, 2020
Your eyes are firmly shut, yet you have the same reel of images rolling through the blank canvas of your mind—like being forced to watch the same cringe-inducing scene in your least favorite movie over and over again. 
Your phone has been laying facedown on your bedside table for hours now. You didn’t need to spare another glance at what was waiting for you on that screen.
It only took one look for the contents to be grossly embedded into your mind. 
jk.jeon just shared a post: ecstasy, is what i feel when i’m with her
Who is she?
The way his hands are snaked around her waist like his own personal handbag, his body pressed up against hers as if they were conjoined at the hip. The dress she’s wearing conforms to her body like a second layer of skin, accentuating all the curves and perfections that you lacked in comparison—the bleached locks of her hair splayed messily atop of his shoulders from their close proximity, or rather, the lack of space between the two figures.
The way their foreheads are pressed together, lips messily meshed in the heat of a moment— the quick snap of a candid picture, the candid glimpse of a love and infatuation that runs deeper than what’s portrayed on a screen. 
He’s smiling into the kiss, looking as rapturous and lovestruck as ever. The streaks of light casting on their bodies and the evident number of people that surround them lead you to assume that they’re at some sort of college party, obviously engaging in college activities. And he’s already found himself a college girl to replace you. 
You didn’t need to sneak another glance at your phone to know what his intentions were with her. You didn’t even need to see her entire face and body to see that she has everything you don’t, and most likely, is able to give Jungkook everything else that you weren’t able to. 
You just wish you had been given a warning. 
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August 19, 2019
Your eyes are trained on the road in front of you—hands gripping onto the steering wheel like your life depends on it. Well, actually, that isn’t entirely wrong in this case. You were driving for the first time. And your boyfriend was struggling to teach you the basics albeit the calmness he exuded through his actions. Needless to say, you weren’t exactly catching on quite as easily as you thought you were going to. A little scrutiny wouldn’t hurt, you thought to yourself. 
“I fucking suck at this, how the hell am I supposed to get my license?!” You shrieked, your shitty driving causing laughter to simmer within you—your head falling against the steering wheel with a loud honk!
“You’re doing just fine!” He reassured you with a smile, his hands wrapping around yours on the steering wheel. “Okay, now just ease your foot on the brake pedal, very slowly.” He told you as you two reached a four-way stop. 
“Like this?” You asked, your foot steadily applying more pressure to the pedal as the car inched closer to the white line. 
“Yes! Just like that! I think you’re almost there, you can step on it all the way now.” He advised, peering over the dash before looking back down at your foot on the brake pedal. 
You took a long, almost sonorous breath, fingers tightening even more (if humanly possible) around the steering wheel, “Alright.”
“Carefully—!” He yelled out as the car jerks to a halt, the sudden stop causing the two of you to lurch forward in your seats. He held you back by the shoulders, before you could face plant into the steering wheel. our eyes are glued shut, knuckles a ghastly shade of white as they remain clenched around the wheel in a vice-like grip. 
Retracting back to his seat with labored breaths, he patted your head with a restrained smile,  “Okay, that’s enough for today, love.“
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December 6, 2019
You two are springing towards the photo booth, clinging onto each other's waists and whizzing past the shoulders of others without a single care in the world.  Right now, the arcade was at a standstill and it was as if the only people that existed were you and him. 
Tugging you through the curtain, you sat beside him, Your head sank into his shoulder as you two attempted to regain your breath. He fished a dollar out of his pocket, and you snaked your arms around him while he began to insert it into the slot. 
The dollar feeds through the machine, and he slumps back in his seat, looking down as you continued to cling onto him, “Do you like how our first date is going so far?”
Your arms wrapped tighter around him on their own accord, you look up at him, “Maybee,” you drag out. 
He scoffs, placing a kiss on your temple, “You are a terrible liar.”
“It’s starting!”
Positioning yourselves into the frame, you two sat side by side—cheeks practically smushed together as you two cheesily grin to the lens, bringing up a hand to form a peace sign next to your faces. 
Flash. 
Staring back at each other through the screen, you two silently concur on doing silly faces next. You literally do the exact same pose—choosing to stick your tongue out in addition, hardly qualifying as silly but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself that much, at least not yet. 
Jungkook’s face contorted into a look that you can’t even begin to try to imitate—a glance at his face had you entirely folding over in laughter.  
Flash. 
Done with your whole tirade of keeping up your image, remembering that you’ve known the boy beside you nearly your whole goddamn life, he’s seen good and he’s seen bad—you snaked an arm around his neck. You bring your other hand up to his hair, tousling it up while your other arm is mock-choking him. You sneered into the camera with a devilish grin while the boy tucked underneath your arm made an exaggerated expression of terror. He looked exactly like that one painting titled ‘The Scream’. 
Flash. 
Letting go of him, he lets out a throaty laugh— seemingly impressed by your choice of pose. You two are simply stared into the screen, frozen and unaware of what to do next. The hopeless romantic side of you was begging to be released into the booth, and it ended up propelling you into doing what you were about to do next. 
Flash.
You kissed him on the cheek. Immediately cowering away, wholly embarrassed at what you had just done, the large hands of the boy sitting next to you stopped you from shying further—cradling the sides of your head and bringing your focus back up to him, except now, you were staring straight into each others’ eyes, faces millimeters apart.
He whispered to you, his breath fanning your nose, eyes flickering down towards your lips, “Can I?”
“Yes,” you said just above a breath.
And that’s how he stole your first kiss.
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June 19, 2020
“But what if—“
He placed his hand on yours, “What if what, Y/N?” He interjects, voice gentle and laced with concern. 
You sighed profoundly, staring at his hands and how they were entwined with yours, his soft skin providing you with a semblance of assurance, just enough to keep you somewhat grounded. But your sanity was clinging on by a loose thread. “We can’t be together once you start college, you know that.”
“And why not?” He asks indifferently, feigning ignorance while his fingers drummed along the skin of your knee, avoiding your piercing stare.  
“You’re moving, you’re going to turn legal,” your voice cracks, a single tear falling down your cheek. You bit your bottom lip, blinking furiously to stop the dam of tears that threatened to burst. “Things are going to change, Jungkook. Whether we both like it or not.”
“They don’t have to.”
Your brows furrow, “What do you me—“
“I’ll wait for you.” He declared impassively, like the answer was just so simple, so easy. His eyes stared so intensely into yours that you inhaled so sharply through your nose that it nearly hurt, your breath ceasing as he continued to stare.  
You look up at him, daunted, his capricious words causing a few tears to escape, but you croak out, “W-what? No, I couldn’t possibly make you wait that long. That’d be selfish of me.”
He brought a hand up to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing to wipe away the tears that were spilling out of your eyes. 
“But what if I wanna wait for you, love?” He called out tenderly, brushing a finger alongside your jaw, the action making you reflexively sink into his touch. 
You can tell that he’s in pain too, the smile that makes its way across his lips isn’t anywhere in comparison to his usual smile—the one where his eyes crinkle, his nose scrunches up, and his mouth is stretched to showcase all the bright pearls of his teeth. 
This smile is a way of trying to battle the torment he feels inside—his lip quirked up, but quivering the longer he looks into your eyes, a dry chuckle is let out into the tense air in a way to help relieve your nerves. But he knows it’s not working. His brown pupils are shimmering more than ever— vision blurred with tears that start to fall from his eyes as well, the streaks evident on his cheeks. 
“I’ll wait for you, Y/N. I’m not letting go of you that easily.”
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November 27, 2020
The mall was bustling with shoppers—families, friends, couples, all people who were looking for annual sales during one of the busiest times of the year. 
Black Friday. 
The lack of ventilation and the excessive presence of body heat to replace it, the ruthless mothers who were willing to push and shove through every single crowd standing in their way just to get that Pyrex glass bowl set that was fifty percent off. Or the same puffer jacket in five different colors to gift for the extended family because all the toys were already sold out. 
Pulling into the mall parking lot, your eyes scanned the lot for parking spaces. Newsflash: there weren’t any. 
“Everyone and their mama is here, literally.” You said exasperatedly, slamming a palm against the steering wheel. 
“Did you forget it’s Black Friday, and oh! Over there! Next to that black civic!” Hoseok yells while gesturing frantically to an empty space that you could barely make out over your dash. They really need to start making cars that accommodated vertically challenged people. 
You swiftly pulled into the space what seems like hours of circling around the packed parking lot. You two considered abandoning this mall for another one, but soon realizing it would just be the exact same at any other mall. It was pointless. 
You two passed through the doors to be greeted by a swarm of frantic shoppers. It was as if you were watching a school of fish traveling together to the same reef. Yet the closest thing here to a coral reef was the fish tank at that one sushi restaurant that Jungkook always loved going to. 
After allowing Hoseok to follow the lead (because that bastard convinced you to take him in the first place), you both entered the large department store that was most likely at its maximum capacity of people at the moment. 
Hoseok had a hideous pair of sneakers on that make his feet look like they got shot with a toy paintball gun.
“You aren’t getting those right…?” you asked, face contorted into a look of revulsion. 
He pauses to pivot on his heel, holding the shoebox in his arms defensively as he glared at you with furrowed brows. “For your information, I’m asking for another size. You cannot tell me that I can’t pull these off.”
It’s Hoseok, of course he can pull anything off. “If I say you do, will you stop asking me how they look with your outfit. Those shoes will clash with every single outfit ever.”
He giggles, rolling his eyes and leaving before you lost him in the crowd.  
A bunch of ‘sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s fell from his lips as he attempted to slither his way through the fifty other people who were searching for a discounted pair of shoes as well. 
He screeched to a halt, the shoebox nearly toppling out of his arms. Managing to save it, he sets it on some random table next to him and decides to abandon it to return back to you. And get you far, far away from what he had just seen. 
Jungkook came back for winter break. Which wouldn’t be a surprise if it wasn’t for the fact that he was with a girl that wasn’t you. The same girl that’s been causing you to spend all your waking moments crying and wallowing in jealousy and regret. 
If Hoseok knew that this was going to happen, he would’ve never forced you to leave your house. What a fucking coincidence that him and his girlfriend had to be here too. 
Hoseok grabs you by the hand and yanks you out of your chair, dragging you out of the store while you’re yelling his name over and over again, wondering why he’s in such a rush to leave all of a sudden. He ignores you, and you mindlessly stare into his back as he continues to shove his way out of the store. His urgent and aggressive actions perplexed you—was he not just about to buy a pair of shoes? 
Passing through the exit, he lets go of your arm, you two breathing heavily as you manage to escape the pushy crowd. 
“What happened to the shoes?” You question, carding a hand through the hair that was matted to your temples. 
Shit, think of something. “Eh, it’s not worth the price. Let’s go get the ice cream you wanted.” He said, promptly recalling how he bribed you with gas money and ice cream so you two could go shopping together. 
“Um, alright.” You replied dryly, confused at his change in demeanor. You couldn’t argue with that, really. Ice cream is never a topic for debate. 
You two spent an obnoxious amount of time in line and even more so waiting for your orders. Hoseok stays behind to wait while you look for a free table, deciding to situate yourself at one that’s close enough to make the back of Hoseok’s head. Because knowing him, there was a good chance he would get lost and then end up spamming you with phone calls asking you where you were. 
Standing up from your seat, you scanned the front of the ice cream shop, not taking long to find Hoseok amidst all the people there. He has his neck craning in all directions while squinting, most likely looking for you. You’re waving your arms haphazardly above you while jumping up and down—any second now and you’ll start screaming his name. 
His eyes widen as they find you, and he smiles with two cups of ice cream in his hand. 
“Thanks.” You said as he sat down at the seat across from you, sliding the cup to your hands. 
“I owed you anyway.” He said while shoving a heaping spoon of ice cream in his mouth. 
Before he could gulp down another bite, he spots Jungkook and his girlfriend once more walking towards your table—realizing that there happened to be an empty table right next to the one you guys were at. 
Nearly choking on his ice cream, he stabs his spoon into the cup, shooting up from his seat, “Y/N, we have to go.”
You gape at him with cinched brows, your spoon still inside your mouth, “But we just started eating, where the hell do you need to go?”
He opens his mouth to respond, but closes it after realizing he didn’t know how to get his way out of this one. “Uh, I feel bad since there’s not that many empty tables. We have ice cream, we can just walk around while eating it.”
The distance between your brows widens slightly. “That’s true. Whatever, just go where you need to go.”
He beams at that, tugging your elbow as he speed walks out of the food court. You hiss at him for almost making you almost lose your grip on your cup. 
Hoseok returns back to normal walking pace once you two leave the food court, and you go back to eating as if nothing had happened. 
Between bites you ask, “Hoseok, are you okay? You’ve been acting strange since we got here. And in the mall, too.”
He lets out a nervous chuckle, “Yeah, I’m fine! It’s just that I’m worried we might not be able to find anything, so I’m trying to pick up the pace.”
“Then why didn’t you buy those shoes earlier?” You ask innocently, still oblivious to his ulterior motives as of now. 
“Uh, I found some that were cheaper online.” He explains without missing a beat, walking into H&M while you blindly follow suit, too busy eating to intervene.  
“Still don’t think those shoes are worth this much fuss over, but suit yourself,” you scrutinize, chuckling to yourself as you walk over to a clearance rack. 
“You are such a party pooper Y/N.”
“And you are one of the biggest splurgers I know Hoseok. God forbid the day you get a better job than the one you have now.”
He sternly crosses his arms, “For your information, I am currently happy working at my froyo place, and I have no intentions of leaving anytime soon.” He spits out indignantly. 
You wave your hand, the smile growing on your face at his accusatory tone, “Yeah, yeah, as long as I keep getting extra mochi in my cup we’re good.”
He rolls his eyes before heading off to the men’s section. 
You swipe through the endless amount of hangers, nothing really catching your eye—and whatever did happened to not be in your size, of course. Leaving the area, you walk deeper into the store in search of better luck at finding something you like. 
Hoseok stays on the first floor, keeping an eye on the entrance. He was thinking of going to some other shop that was more discreet, but he figured that you would severely question him if he were to walk into Claire’s, so he opted for this instead. 
Concerned about how this night has been playing out so far, Hoseok is even considering asking you to take him home after this. After all, he’s been your sole confidant throughout the whole altercation with Jungkook—a shoulder to cry on, letting you call him on the phone when you couldn’t sleep and get the thoughts of him out of your head, venting to him and telling you all the memories you two shared, sometimes multiple times but he never showed annoyance because he only wanted you to feel better. You’ve appeared a lot more jaded these last few months, and he, more than anyone wanted to see you feel like yourself again. And if everything that he’s done helps contribute for you to feel even the tiniest pinprick of ease, so be it. 
So when Jungkook and his girlfriend walk into the entrance of H&M, he’s forced to formulate yet another escape plan. 
Frantically pacing around the store, he searches every rack and shelf, eventually spotting you eyeing a pair of jeans, “Hey Y/N, have you found anything?”
You scrunch your nose, “Eh, not really, but I’m still looking around. You?”
He shakes his head, trying to sound as natural as he possibly can, “Nah, I don’t see anything I like to be honest.”
“You’ve already looked through the whole store, but we’ve only been here for five minutes?” You raise a brow. 
“I don’t know, everything good is gone already, maybe we should just go to another mall.” He suggests, hoping you don’t see right through him. 
You nod, putting the pair of jeans down back on the display table, “Yeah, we can, if you want. It’s not like we got anything else better to do.”
“Okay, cool! Let’s go!” He chimes, a little too cheerily, even for Hoseok. He yanks you by the arm once again, forcing you to drop all the clothes you had on your arm as he skips towards the exit. 
He sees Jungkook once again, wearing a cheetah-printed hat and making stupid faces at the girl in front of him while she laughs heartily. Gasping, he hides behind a wall, colliding into you as your face gets shoved into a faux fur coat. 
Sputtering, you swat his shoulder, curses falling from your lips angrily. “What the fuck?!”
“Sorry—!”
You step out of the jacket, staring daggers into the boy standing in front of you. “Hoseok, what is going on?”
“Everything’s fine, what do you me—!”
You groan exasperatedly, “No. You literally wanna go somewhere else when we haven’t been able to spend more than ten minutes at a single store? And you seem like you’re in such a hurry, even though you haven’t bought a single thing yet.”
He sighs, admitting defeat, “Y/N, we just can’t be here anymore. Trust me on this. We need to go.” He tugs on your arm once more, but you shrug it off without missing a beat. 
“Why?” You deadpan, the anger in your voice diminishing slightly, “Give me a reasonable explanation first, and then we’ll leave.”
He freezes, his eyes casting downwards at his shoes. Biting his lip, he says, “Are you sure?”
Your eyes narrow, as you heave another sigh, “Yes, I’m sure.”
Looking back up at you, he gives you this apologetic look. His eyes appear much dimmer compared to seconds before, shoulders slumped, lips wishing to say something else, but he regresses and looks away. 
He peers out from the corner of the wall, running an awkward hand through his hair before making enough space for you to see what he was looking at as well.
Your heart drops instantly at what you see in front of you. 
It’s your first time seeing him since he left for college. 
Yet you never would’ve imagined that you’d see him with such heaviness in your heart, and such aversion to even catch a glimpse of his face. 
The girl who smiles up at him is even more stunning in person. So stunning that you don’t think you’ve ever felt so small while standing in the midst of all these people until right now. Another image you don’t think will leave the dark caverns of your thoughts for a long time.  
She slips a pair of sunglasses onto his face and he scrunches his nose, placing a quick peck on her forehead while she giggles into his chest. 
You’re already blinking back a vast wave of tears, letting out a couple of shaky breaths before murmuring, “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
You shake your head, nudging his elbow with yours, letting the tears fall, “Sorry for what? For being the irreplaceable friend that you are? I could never repay you for all the shit I’ve made you put up with.”
“You know I’d kill him right here and right now if it were allowed.” He teases, successfully garnering a chuckle out of you despite the tears that start to flow more recurrently. 
Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you muster a smile in his direction, shaking your head, “As if you could.”
“I’d probably die trying.” He laughs, and you laugh along with him as the hot tears begin to stream more freely down your cheeks. They soak the collar of your sweater, and you can taste the saltiness as it slips into the seams of your lips. Your vision becomes so blurry you can’t even discern the faces of the couple you’ve been staring at for the past couple of minutes. 
He breathes out steadily, something that you’re still struggling to do. Tearing his gaze away from the two, he turns to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”
You blink, letting the tears drip so your vision could clear up a bit. You give the couple one long glance before shifting your gaze to Hoseok, he greets your wretchedness with a smile. But it’s not wide or lustrous or jovial. No, not at all. It’s small, it’s close-lipped, it’s reassuring. And it’s all you can ask for right now. 
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November 14, 2019
The crowd is dead silent. Nine seconds are left on the clock as the school is only 2 points behind the opposing team.
Jungkook’s hair is slicked back with sweat, his biceps glistening and emphasizing the hours of practice and conditioning he’s been through. His eyes are narrowed and focused, knowing that the outcome of the game is almost entirely and quite literally, right in his very hands. 
All eyes on your side of the bleachers are on the team captain who currently has the ball. He’s dribbling, eyes scanning the situation, trying to calculate his next move as he’s blocked from all sides. 
Passing it to his teammate behind him, he fakes his way towards the sideline, and the teammate passes the ball back to him. His head flickers towards the shot clock that reads only 3 seconds remaining and from behind the 3-point line, he attempts to make a three pointer. 
It makes it in. 
They won. 
The bleachers erupt into an explosion of cheers. The captain’s eyes widen at the sight as his eyes flicker to the scoreboard, to his team that’s already celebrating and currently running towards him, and then his eyes flicker towards you.
He smiles at you for a fleeting second before his team lifts him up into the air. He’s sitting proudly on his human podium as he gets handed the championship trophy. He pumps his other first into the air, reveling in all the glory in adrenaline that’s in making the winning shot. Finally reaching the conclusion of his high school basketball career with teammates that he wouldn’t ever trade in a lifetime, his coach that was looking at his team proudly from the sideline, and his favorite girl watching him from the stands. 
Life is great. 
Focusing back towards you, he mouths out, “Meet me at the spot after the game.”
You two always met up at the designated spot after his games, yet you’ve never improved at reading his lips after all this time, “What?!”
“The spot. After the game.”
Finally comprehending what he’s trying to say, you nod, smiling, “Oh, okay.”
He smiles from ear to ear, his eyes shining even brighter than the reflection of the trophy he was holding. “Wait for me.” He mouths out. 
Your smile can’t help but stretch even wider, “I will.“
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You sit at the familiar swing set at the designated spot, the park on the corner of First and Chestnut Avenue. Your feet hover above the floor, kicking the air in front of you as you wait for the boy that asked you to come here. 
You’re scrolling on your phone to pass the time, his letterman jacket draped over your shoulders while you wait. You hear a pair of footsteps running towards you, a voice blaring from across the way, 
“Y/N!”
The sound of his voice propels you to jump off the swing as you run towards him. 
He beats you to it, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you habitually sink into his embrace. He’s changed out of his uniform and you can tell he’s just hopped out of the shower by the way the ends of his hair are bunched up at the ends. He smells absolutely divine that you don’t want to leave. 
You pull back, holding him by his robust forearms that your fingers couldn’t quite fully wrap around, “You did amazing out there.”
“I felt like I was about to faint out there.” He chuckles as he pulls you towards a bench to sit on. 
“I couldn’t even begin to imagine how that feels, I’d probably pass out from just staring at the buzzer alone.”
“I told you I’ll be fine as long as you’re there,” he coos as you nudge him in mock annoyance. 
“What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ve been thinking,” he starts, taking your hand into his, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” He says resolutely, while rubbing shapes into the back of your hand with his thumb. 
“W-what?”
“I can’t stand being just friends with you Y/N. I want more.”
Your heart rate begins to dangerously pick up speed, your mind spiraling into places unknown and you thought were deemed prohibited. 
“I’m not sure I get what you’re—“
“—I like you, Y/N. And if I were crazy, which I am, I think I might even be in love with you.”
Heat rushes up to your cheeks, your face turning an embarrassing shade of crimson. Even though he was right in front of you, inches next to you in fact, your mind felt the need to repeat the words he had just said over again. And over again. And over again. And over again. 
“Well, if you think you’re crazy, that I guess consider me insane because I think I might be in love with you too.”
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JUNGKOOK <3 on January 2nd, 2021 at 4:46am
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I–I’ve majorly fucked up everything in every single way and I don’t even know what to do anymore. Before I could even realize that I fucked up, I knew it was already too late so I just kept exacerbating the situation more and more like the stupid fucking dumbass I am. And I am so sorry. I know you remember, and even though I’m drunk and crying right now, I still remember all those things we said to each other. And what I had promised to you. Forget about it. All of it. Please. I just knew it. I–I knew it right away. I knew it from the moment that I laid my eyes on you and you took me in as a friend, and then a lover, that you were way too good for me. That I didn’t deserve you, and I still don’t, and I don’t think I ever will. So please, please just forget about me. Forget about what I said. And please move on from me. You deserve so much better than what I’ve made you deal with these past couple of months. So please know that this is all my fault, and my fault only. I don’t even deserve to say these words… but I love you, and I hope one day I can make it up to you and you could forgive me. Even though I don’t deserve it whatsoever. Y/N, my love, I am so sorry. I am so fucking sorry. Goodbye.”
The person you have dialed is not able to receive calls at this time. 
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March 15, 2021
With a heavy sigh, you smooth out the wrinkles on the paper in front of you. The idea of you writing a letter to him was anything but arbitrary. You often caught yourself spilling out your innermost closeted feelings onto paper, comforted by the resolve that it was only going to be you that saw it. 
Except now, the ink being engraved into the paper wasn’t you gushing about said boy, the sweet nothings he would whisper into your ear when he would pull you away from the commotion of the school hallways, his lips that you knew were his by muscle memory, his much larger hand that always seemed to mold perfectly with yours. Everything. All of it. Anything that you knew you would love to look back on just in case of the rarity that his presence would cease to be at your side. 
You haven’t spared a glance at those manuscripts in months. 
You bite your lip, grabbing the black pen that you always used—habitually relishing in the forthrightness and sincerity of not being able to backtrack and erase what you put down. 
With one quivering breath and a weak grip on your pen, you begin to write onto the paper.
Jungkook, 
I hope you’re doing well. I miss you, and it would be a blatant lie for me to say that I don’t. In all honesty, I think about you a lot more than I care to admit. I guess that’s one thing that hasn’t changed ever since you left. 
I don’t know what propelled me to write this. Maybe I was tired of being bound up by these suffocating shackles you’ve seemed to have a hold on me since you left. Because that’s how I’ve felt ever since you moved away and replaced me with a girl I could never compete with. But I do have to say she is insanely beautiful. And you two look happy together. And I am in no way pinning any speck of blame on her. Not when I have you flaunting around your newfound way of relieving the stress of uni every second you get. 
I just don’t understand. Did you not think I was going to find out? Actually no, you made it flagrantly obvious that you had no intention of hiding yourself. I just, I don’t know. Why couldn’t you just tell me that your feelings changed? Spare me some of the pain and tell me that you didn’t want to wait anymore. That you found someone else. That you don’t love me anymore. 
I know we weren’t perfect, but fuck, you and I both know that I’ve never felt this way for anyone. I just can’t fathom how you can be so okay after shutting me out like that. Was I that insignificant to you after all that time we spent together? All those years of friendship, love, memories, promises—was it not enough for you to consider me worthy of keeping in your life? Bullshit.
I can still see all the lurid images of our relationship every time I close my eyes. And I’m exhausted. I just wish it would all stop. I wish I could erase you out of my life, but you’ve engraved yourself into my mind. All-consuming and unwelcomed. How did you possibly leave your own designated route in my heart, and why have I never been able to find a single detour of this hell. Why do these memories run so deep within me when I know you couldn’t care less? Why does this have to be so hard? 
Fuck, I loved you. I think I might even still fucking love you right now. But back then, I was so ready, at any goddamn given moment to drop everything I had to be with you. I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me that you were leaving, that you were turning 18 and beginning your journey into adulthood while I was still inevitably lagging behind. Yet none of that ever phased me. But do you know why? Do you know why I unabashedly and wholeheartedly was so willing to act so foolish for you?
You told me you would wait. You were the one that promised me forever that one day in your car while tears were rolling down your cheeks and you were holding me in your arms—whispering nothing but soft words of assurance in my ear, consoling me, and tricking me into believing that your love would be nothing but unwavering. 
I was the fool that fell for your words. Still hoping until this day that I have even a sliver of a chance to receive that same love from you again. 
Slamming your pen down on your desk, you bury your head in your hands. Seething, rage-filled tears dampening your calloused palms as you take deep breaths into your hands. 
The tears drip onto the paper, smearing some of the freshly written ink. You stand up from your seat, leaving your desk to hide under the covers of your duvet—willing yourself to dreamland so you avoid the reality that you adamantly and petulantly refused to face. 
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May 7, 2021
It’s the night of your prom. 
It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve gotten your license—at the final year of your life before you’ll be considered a full-fledged adult. 
All this time you had always wished for the days, weeks, and months to tick by faster so you could just be considered already (for many obvious and aforementioned reasons). But when Jungkook had left, you finally took the time to just sit down and realize these very moments are supposed to be the best times of your life. 
You have a clear intent on your mind tonight. And it doesn’t involve any dancing, corsages, or forced conversation with a boy that asked you out to the prom out of pity. Everyone knew that you only wanted to go with one person, and one person only, so you had turned everyone down. Likewise, you felt awfully pathetic about the situation that you couldn’t even bear to show your face in front of all your peers. 
It’s a particularly rainy night. Your windshield wipers are on the highest setting as you traverse through the suburban areas of your hometown. The goosebumps on your arms are raised—your arms bare due to your choice of clothing for the night. 
You nearly forgot that you’ve had a dress for prom all this time— bought months in advance by a boy who was so excited to see it on you more than you were. He used to talk about this day all the time; your first ever prom and what he planned to do, what to wear to match your dress, how we would take you there, and yet, now he’s not even there for any of it. For the past couple of months your dress has been occupying the back of your closet, not wanting to relive those memories or be reminded about all those fruitless fantasies that he had always told you about every time you saw it. 
Tonight is the first time you’ve worn it ever since he saw you in it and bought it for you that day. 
You finally reach your destination. You make it to the spot; the park that was you two once considered yours. Once you’ve parked, you finally loosen your grip on the steering wheel, your fingers raw and sore from how rigid you had been driving this entire time. Some things never change.
Letting your hands drop into your lap, you stare outside your windshield. It was late into the night, and the neighborhood was asleep and all cooped up to shelter themselves from the heavy rainstorm that was forecasted today. 
Your eyes flicker over to the shoebox in your passenger seat and the hoodie that was slung over the headrest. The unbearable weather causes you to slip on the hoodie. You momentarily cease in your actions—in shock at how the fabric still smells like him after all this time. 
Dismissing the minor detail, you take the shoebox and set it down in your lap. Taking off the lid, you are immediately met with a myriad of pictures with his face as the muse. Little keepsakes like small love letters he would sneak into your backpack in between classes, polaroids that you would take of him when he wasn’t looking, receipts from all the dates you would go on, old movie tickets, and everything else. It was all in there. 
Taking another glance towards the outside, you notice that the rain has stopped. Closing the box, you tuck it under your arm while opening your car door. You step towards the front of your car, propping a foot on the front bumper before jumping up onto the hood. You take advantage of having such thick fabric on, disallowing the water from seeping through onto your skin. 
You take some of the skirt into your hand and spread it along the hood, placing the box on top of it so it wouldn’t get wet. Opening the box once more, you quickly rummage through the contents, hand scraping the bottom of the box until finding the small lighter that you were looking for. Your fingers encircle around it before taking it out of the box and sticking it in the pocket of the hoodie. 
It’s been months since you’ve looked through the box. You feel internally appalled at how much you had kept over the course of time, a clear representation of how utterly and madly in love you were with the boy. 
It’s like you took it upon yourself to document everything that happened in your relationship. The endless amount of tangible memories leave your mind swirling haze. 
There’s one particular picture that catches your eye. You see the same hood of the car you’re currently sitting on peeking under a receipt of the sushi place you two always went to. 
Brows furrowed, you reach a hand into the box to take it out, gasping once the rest of the picture comes into your point of view. 
You vividly remember when this picture was taken. It was taken the same day you had gotten your license and your mom had gifted you her old corolla to use as she had bought a new car for herself. 
The car was parked in the exact same spot you were in right now, the park around the corner from his house. He was holding you by the waist, smiles beaming on both of your faces as you two stood in front of the hood of your mom’s car. One of your arms was shot up into the air, your hand clutching your driving test as the other was wrapped around his waist. Both of his arms were wrapped around your figure, holding you against him while his head rested atop of yours. 
A single tear unwillingly escapes—falling onto the picture. You throw the picture back into the box, quickly wiping your eyes with the back of your hand as you shut the lid back on. 
Jumping off the hood of the car, your eyes are set on yet another destination—the swingset. Your shoes slosh against the wet pavement, your dress nearly dragging behind you as you hold onto the silver chains, propping yourself into the seat and placing the box in your lap once again. 
Lifting the lid off, you're forced to meet the multitude of palpable forms of remembrance of the boy. Your eyes focus on each picture, each love letter, each receipt, each movie ticket, all of it, with an intent that isn’t even quite comprehensible to you. But you digress and continue to look through it all without fault. 
As you pick up each and every one of all the contents in the box, you fleetingly transport back into the time in which whatever you hand in your hands had occurred—savoring each drop of feeling that you could muster to recall with just a single gaze. 
Hand digging through the box, you pull out a torn piece of paper. It appears to be torn out of a graph paper notebook. And you recognize the scrawl immediately. It reads:
good luck on your test today, love. mr. smith’s shitty teaching is no match to my smartypants girlfriend. let’s get food after school today, whatever u want :)
- guk <3
You take out another piece of paper that looks near identical to the one you’re currently reading. Placing the other one back inside the box, you read it and it says:
how did you even notice I forgot to bring water to practice? you’re a godsend, y/n, i’d be a mess without u 
- guk <3
And you begin to realize there’s more and more of these messages. You rummage through the box, separating the letters from everything else so you could read each one. 
you look beautiful today
- guk <3
im so scared for the game today, the team’s been slacking a bit during practice and i haven’t been feeling well enough to reprimand them. i know i’ll feel better once i see you in the stands though. y/n, my good luck girl
- guk <3
what life did i save in my past life to have u in my current one
- guk <3
i hate sitting thru ms. pitt’s boring ass lectures. can we ditch and sleep in my car together D:
- guk <3
i’ll be honest. when i first got my letterman, i was more excited to see you wearing it more than myself. i can see that my instincts were right after all.
- guk <3
u could wear a sack and i’d still think you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen i swear to god wow im so in love with u
- guk <3
i swear i kept staring at the clock counting down the minutes til the game ended. i miss u love and im so tired 
- guk <3
keep the hoodie…. keep all of them actually…
- guk <3
seeing u drive off on ur own made me feel like such a proud dad. except we don’t tolerate incest in this household. ok but if it were with you then maybe… oh my god what the fuck am i saying ok i love u yeah u know that though bye love see u later
- guk <3
u deserve everything the universe has to offer. let’s travel thru space one day, yeah?
- guk <3
meet me at the spot after the game, i have something important i need to tell you :)
- guk <3
Before you know it, something in the damp, chilly air shifts. You’re smiling as tears stop at the corners of your lips. You nearly forgot how you genuinely felt in all those moments right in front of you, and you more than wish that you could feel that type of blitheness in your life again.
Carefully placing all the letters back in the box, you feel a pang arising in your chest. A pang of something you haven’t been necessarily able to feel in a while. 
Hope.
You can feel yourself yielding. For once, giving into the prospect that there’s a possibility that you and Jungkook could just be better off not together in the ways you’ve always imagined. Out of each other’s lives indefinitely, but not quite entirely. 
You flip open the lid of the box, frantically searching for the self-written letter you had written when you were in a state of mind that you had grown accustomed to after all these months. A toxic one that’s been eating you whole and tearing your focus away on the things that you still have to be thankful for. Friends. Family. Your entire life. Waiting to be embarked on and filled with memories that could fill up dozens of other boxes and rooms in your mind. 
Taking the letter out of the box, you close the lid, using the cardboard as a surface to smooth the paper onto as you click your pen. 
For some fucking reason, the delusional daydreamer that incessantly takes up space within me still wishes I could bear witness to see you smile. To see you laugh. The one that’s thunderous and full of life and used to ricochet along the walls of my bedroom. To read the love letters you’d slip into my backpack in between classes, and then having to bury my face in my hands to hide the smile that never ceased everytime I’d read one. To see you steer your car with one hand while the other would hold mine. To see you wink at me from across the gymnasium during every basketball game you played, and then trying to converse with me albeit me never understanding what you were trying to say. To see you come to my rescue without hesitation when I couldn‘t understand something in school. To feel your touch and your embrace and your lips against mine—working in perfect tandem because you just always felt like home. And to hear those same lips call me ‘love’ one last time. 
To see you pour so much of your heart into everything you do, everything you encounter—even the minor inconveniences that cross your path. You would knock it all down with such fervor, such grace, and with your nose all scrunched up, your brows downturned, and your bottom lip tucked into your mouth—showcasing the small mole under it that tickled you whenever I’d kiss it. 
Yeah. Maybe I’ll have to carry the weight of all these memories for as long as I live. Maybe you’ll always have a spot in my heart reserved for you as much as I try to deny it. Maybe I won’t be able to find someone who cared about me or loved me as much as you did. 
But I think maybe, just maybe, I can live with all of that. 
I was so lucky. I am still lucky. I had you—someone who was able to fill in the voids of my being, and fall back onto when things were tough—never hesitating to remind me and reassure me that I was enough. That I was worthy of something so precious, so memorable. All those times I thought you would just say it out of pity or because you thought it was something you needed to do, were obliterated into bits. Because looking back at it now, and how I felt in all those moments, your penchant-like words were laced and spoken with nothing but utmost confidence, endearment, and genuineness. 
Now I know that I’m capable of being in love. I’m worthy of having someone do all the things that you did and possibly even more. I can sleep rest assured that as much as you hurt me, my life isn’t over now that you’re gone. I’m not driving on this endless one-way street.  Because my journey is just beginning, and heartbreak and pain is always going to be there regardless of what path I choose. But how I deal with it and overcome it is up to my own terms. And I’m only realizing this now. Only realizing this after it felt like you shattered my entire universe. 
Yet it all makes me come to the realization that I don’t think I would’ve been able to feel this way, or discover all of this, unless you left the way you did. And for that reason, I am grateful and indebted towards you.  
The same delusional daydreamer hopes that one day we can talk and laugh like old pals. Like nothing ever changed between us. I hope you achieve your dreams that you always thought seem too far-fetched, yet in the back of my mind I always knew you could easily grasp. I hope someday you can live a life of lesser worries and insecurities, because you rarely had any to start off with. I always hoped the world for you, because you deserve it. And despite everything, I still believe you do. 
But most of all, I hope you find true love. I hope you feel and make someone feel as loved as I felt when I considered you mine, and you considered me yours. 
I hope you’re happy right now as I’m writing this letter that you’ll never see. And I hope you’re happy long after then. 
I love you. I’ll love you forever, Jungkook. 
- Y/N
You sign off and fold up the letter, feeling content as you reread what you had just written. The change of tone this half had in comparison was striking to the words you had written in your bedroom while irate tears were falling down your cheeks. With wishful thinking, you hope that your words could mirror your being and spark a change in mindset within you. 
And for the first time, you were determined to get there. 
Rain starts to fall, and you hover over the box in a meek attempt to protect it from the elements. You clutch onto the letter the tightest though, because just like everything inside that box, this letter would be able to attest to another significant moment you cherish close to your heart. 
The rain begins to pour even harder, emulating the heaviness you feel in your heart and the weight of all the strapping thoughts that run through your mind. 
You pull your hood down, exposing yourself to the rain—relishing in the feeling of the water gushing onto your body and how the raindrops mix with the tears that continue to incessantly run down your face. 
Hurriedly, you lift the lid just wide enough to slip the letter inside before hastily shutting it close.
You tug your hood back on despite just taking it off, already feeling the indications of a cold coming along the longer you let yourself get drenched in rainwater. Your hair was sopping wet and the fabric of the hoodie was well past damp at this point. 
Shivering and holding the box close to your chest, you jump off the swing. You dust some of the rainwater off of the skirt of your dress. 
Taking the first huge, contemplative, yet steady exhale of the night, you begin to make your way towards your parked car, until you notice a tall, hooded figure standing a few feet beside it. 
The shadow seems oddly familiar, but it might still be the notable amount of tears that you’re trying so hard to hold in—clouding your irises, disallowing you from seeing clearly and assuredly. 
Your feet start to pick up speed, approaching the stranger as they turn towards you with their head hung low. 
Your heart begins to pulsate even more vigorously against your caged yet defenseless form—the pounding so piercing, resounding, roaring and deterring that you could feel your head start to spin on its axis. 
The grip you have on the box tightens extraordinarily, you could feel the wet cardboard fraying at your fingertips all while the stranger decisively refuses to look you in the face. 
It hurts so bad to swallow, like needles are pricking at your throat as you do. Your mind delays, the words reach your lips before your brain could even begin to process them. 
You call out to the stranger, your voice muffled due to the rain that continued to excessively patter, “Excuse me, what are you—”
“Y/N…  it’s really you.”
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thank u so much for reading! <3
MASTERLIST
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ot7always · a year ago
Text
Ignorantly, Yours
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Word Count: 10.6k
Pairing: Alpha!Jimin x Omega!Reader
Genre: Wolf!AU, Best Friends to Lovers!AU; fluff, smut, angst
Warnings: dom!Jimin, sub!reader, A/B/O dynamics, heat sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk (including a bit of possessiveness), marking, creampie, hair pulling, degradation, praise, rough sex, multiple orgasms
Rating: 18+
Summary:  You never could have expected your best friend to show up at your apartment right as you were about to go into heat, but when he did, something in you just wouldn’t let him go.
A/N: Truly, this was never supposed to be more than drabble. Which truly became a nuisance once it grew a lot and I had to go back and change a lot of things during editing. This is my first fic with some sort of supernatural element to it, and I had a lot of fun! I hope you guys enjoy, and please let me know what you think!
Reposted without the header gif and without any links or taglist. Sorry for any inconvenience if you were already looking at the first post. I will reblog with the taglist shortly.
--
Maybe it should have been embarrassing.
Maybe it was, 5 years ago when the habit first started.
5 years ago, when you’d had your first pre-heat. When the world had quickly become too overwhelming, your nose unused to the myriad of scents that assaulted you in your sensitivity. Your skin feeling so raw that even the clothes on your back felt uncomfortable.
It was then, in your childhood bedroom, amidst everything else, you recognized a scent that accompanied you through your life for as long as you could remember. A scent that felt like home, felt like warm days under the sun and shared laughter under blankets at midnight.
Your nose had led you to the bottom drawer of your dresser, your hands digging through the mess of fabric there until you pulled out an orange hoodie. You didn’t remember ever having it, and it looked small enough to have been from years ago – maybe even from before he presented.
But as you pulled it out of that drawer, the scent that might have been faint to you any other day filled your nostrils. A blueberry and pine scent that left you feeling calmer instantly, safer. Whether that had to do more with your friendship or his alpha status wasn’t a thought that crossed your mind. All you knew at the time was that it made everything better – he made everything better, even when he wasn’t there.
That marked the first time you laid in your bed, curling yourself around that small piece of comfort, your face shoved into the soft fabric. The peace that washed over you then was addicting, and any thought of giving up that feeling was unfathomable.
And if Jimin noticed how you were covered in his own scent when he saw you after every heat since that day, he didn’t say a thing.
--
You missed him a lot.
It wasn’t as though his university was that far away, and you should have grown used to it after several years of living apart for most of the year. Weekend visits were hardly enough when you’d spent more time together than apart growing up.
It definitely didn’t feel like enough when you were lying in bed, surrounded by the products of your skillful swiping over the years during Jimin’s visits. Hoodies, t-shirts – you had at least a dozen by now. All of which were tossed across your bed alongside you, your upper body already clad in one of his oversized hoodies.
When your pre-heat started affecting you yesterday, you’d already emailed your professors to tell them you wouldn’t be able to make it to class for the week. They, of course, understood – every university accommodated for their students to get a week off about every 3 months for this exact reason.
You were already overcome by exhaustion, Jimin’s scent wafting around the room lulling you into a sleepy daze.
It was common for an omega to nest amongst an alpha’s scent before their heat, though said alpha would typically be their partner.
It wasn’t something you liked to think on very often. Something like this couldn’t be that uncommon, right? After all, he was your first friend, and that went beyond being an alpha or omega. Besides, if it bothered him, wouldn’t he have already called you out for it by now? Wouldn’t he have said something when he realized that even when you’d started spending every heat with an alpha, his scent was still somewhere in there?
You tried not to worry too much about it. It didn’t matter, anyway.
Based on how you were feeling, you knew your heat would probably be here within 2 or 3 days. Which meant you should probably call someone soon to ask them to help you through it. It was normal practice to ask a friend to help you with your heat, but it was a line you’d never crossed with Jimin. Rejection was never something you dealt with well, and you were too afraid to put him, of all people, in that position. Knowing him, he would agree even if he didn’t want to.
Who, then? Namjoon? Hoseok? Both have agreed before, though the notion of crossing your room to pick up the phone you’d so foolishly left on the dresser was severely unappealing.
Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut, your face nuzzling into a blue and red scarf Jimin had forgotten at your apartment last winter. As the tranquility washed over you, your mind drifted closer and closer to sleep, warm and cozy and surrounded by Jimin’s scent.
Until the doorbell rang through your apartment.
At first you elected to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would get the hint and go away. But when it sounded out 2 more times after you hadn’t moved in several minutes, you groaned.
Wasn’t it bad etiquette to do this to someone? Surely that had to be written in a handbook somewhere.
With heavy limbs, you dragged yourself out of bed, flipping the hood up on your (well, Jimin’s) hoodie. As much as it may have been a bad idea to answer the door by yourself in pre-heat, your scent enveloped by an alpha’s would be enough to ward off unwanted advances. Though there were definitely bad people in the world, it took a truly insane person to go after an omega scented by an alpha.
When you made it to the door, you took a deep breath, preparing yourself to ream out whoever was on the other side. While you could sense someone’s presence there, every apartment was insulated, scent-wise, for protection. You didn’t know what to expect.
But of every possibility, when you opened the door, you didn’t expect to get assaulted by the very scent you’d been basking in only minutes ago. You didn’t notice how his eyes widened or how his pupils dilated when your scent hit him, too preoccupied by your body’s visceral reaction.
The full force of his scent almost had your knees buckling, your eyelids growing heavier as every single part of you instinctively yearned to curl up into him. Maybe your heat was closer than you thought.
When you were finally able to focus your eyes on him, his teeth were biting into his bottom lip, the hand holding an overnight bag clenched so hard his knuckles were white.
You didn’t give him the chance to say anything before you were stumbling forward, colliding messily with him, only focused on getting as close to him as possible.
You barely heard a mumbled ‘shit,’ not registering that he backed you into your apartment until you heard the door slam, his bag hitting the floor.
“Jimin,” you mumbled, your hands grasping at his shirt, eyes closed as you shoved your face into his neck, sighing happily when you were finally as close to the source of your happiness as possible.
But much to your discontent, he pushed you from him, keeping you an arms’ length away. The whimper you let out in response sounded pathetic even to your own ears, but every cell in your body was screaming to get as close to him as possible.
“Y/N,” he said firmly, the unusual hardness in his tone snapping you out of your daze slightly, wide eyes fixing onto his face. He audibly gulped at the glazed look in your eyes, before continuing. “You’re in heat.”
“I’m not,” you whined, trying to push against his hands, but he was stronger than you were.
“You will be,” he responded, letting out an incredulous sigh. “Fuck. I meant to surprise you but I forgot what the date was, I’m so sorry.”
“But I’m not yet,” you complained, changing tactics and instead aiming to shove your nose into the wrists near your shoulders. When your hair swished with your movement, sending a whiff of shampoo and your scent Jimin’s way, he groaned loudly.
“God, I can’t be here, I should go,” he said through gritted teeth. But when he started leaning down to pick his bag back up, you panicked.
“NO!” you yelled, launching yourself at him with your whole weight, not at all concerned about how he stumbled back in surprise. Your hands gripping onto his waist, you looked at him with wide eyes, your irises barely visible around the black of your dilated pupils. “Please don’t leave.”
His composure visibly cracked at the desperation on your face, but the sensation of your hands trembling in their grip on him brought him back to reality. “I can’t stay, I know that you know that-”
“Why?” you cried, your bottom lip trembling. The logical part of you deep inside knew you were being unreasonable, but even that part of you was a slave to instinct. All you knew was that Jimin got you through every pre-heat, and here Jimin was in front of you now. He’d never seen you like this, not ever in the last 5 years. And now that he has, nothing has ever been more unappealing than the thought of him walking out your front door.
He was very clearly taking shallow breaths, eventually bringing his own wrist to his nose to try to drown out everything else. Based on the low grunt he let out, it didn’t seem to be working very well.
“You smell like you’re going to go into heat at any moment, fuck, I can’t,” he panted, every part of him resisting the urge to grab you and scent you until there was absolutely no question whether you were his.
Except you weren’t his.
“I-I...” he stuttered, the scent of you not only clinging to him, but everywhere throughout the apartment occupying every part of his brain. “I need to go, I’ll call someone for you, Hoseok or-”
But that was definitely the wrong thing to say, because you sprung back from him as though you’ve been burned. When you looked at him as though he’d betrayed you, he knew he’d messed up.
“Why? You’re already here,” you spat out. “Don’t go,” you finished in a much weaker voice, pleading gaze fixing onto his.
A flash of pain went through him when he saw you hug yourself around the middle, as though to appear smaller. As though to protect yourself. From him.
“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking of you!” you wailed, the space between you feeling wider than it’s ever been.
“I can’t,” he repeated, a tinge of desperation making its way into his tone. Why was this so hard? From what he knew about omega heats and pre-heats, without a partner or relationship you shouldn’t have cared this much about which alpha stayed with you.
“Aren’t we friends? Can’t you just stay?” you begged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. Something about him trying to leave felt like a hole was being ripped through your chest, even if you’d understand why any other day.
“Of course we’re friends,” he said incredulously, a conflicted expression on his face. He knew exactly what you meant, exactly what was implied within that statement. When something like desire crossed his gaze, you felt a dash of hope bloom within you. “But...”
And it was crushed just like that. “Why don’t you want me when I want you? What’s wrong with me?” you sobbed, the tears finally spilling from your eyes as you dropped to your knees.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The smell of an omega in distress was always something that set off an alpha’s protective instinct.
But the knowledge that he was the one who caused it brought forth an ugly wrenching in his gut.
For all the required readings Jimin had done in the course of his life, nothing had ever taught him what to do when the girl you’re secretly in love with was on the floor crying because you refused to fuck her through her heat.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. God, did he want to.
But you weren’t there begging for his heart or his love or his devotion – you were begging for his body. Which wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was offended. The problem was that he wanted more than this, and that right now was most definitely not the time to have that conversation.
And it’s not that he didn’t think you knew what you wanted. He knew you knew that you were asking for sex, but he also knew that was all you were asking for. Pre-heat was about preparing for sex, not romance.
As much as a heat could completely fog an omega’s brain, in pre-heat they could still make coherent decisions. It was typically a time spent preparing for heat, a time to call an alpha or to prepare for the much more painful option of suffering alone. They were typically in a perpetual state of exhaustion, bodies crying out for sleep to save up energy for their heat.
But more importantly, it was a time where omegas were at their most emotionally vulnerable, where they gave in to instinct. A time where they surrounded themselves in the things that made them feel safest, most at home.
He knew – he knew you used his scent to get through your pre-heat, but he never thought it meant that much. You were his oldest friend, and the fact that you found comfort in his scent was never something he questioned. He was an alpha, and you scented each other often – it made sense from a biology standpoint.
And – oh.
It hit him then that this was more than an alpha’s refusal to help their friend through their heat. This was more than a refusal for sex.
This was your biggest security blanket pushing you away at your most vulnerable, the person you trusted most to keep you safe leaving you when you were begging him to stay.
He really, really fucked up by coming here.
He should have checked the dates properly in the first place, and now he’d have to deal with the consequences. There was an unbelievably high chance that if he walked out that door, you’d have a breakdown, and he couldn’t just break your heart by leaving now.
Even if it ended up breaking his own. Even if you ended up thinking nothing of it, and he would never be able to erase the memory from his brain.
Because you were begging him to stay out of instinct, out of need. Not out of love. Not that he knew of, not the kind he wanted, at least.
But there was no reason to go there or question you about it, because he knew you’d say anything to make him stay, even if it wasn’t true. Not because you were a liar, but because that’s what your body would push you to do right now.
Knowing that the smell of his own panic would just set you off more, he took a couple deep breaths before falling to his knees in front of you. He had to force down the rising upset in his chest at the scent of your tears, every part of him screaming at himself for upsetting you this deeply.
“Hey,” he called out softly, his hands reaching out to gently pull your hands away from where they were hiding your face. At the sight of your red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks, his heart tugged. “Look at me.” He slipped a hand forward to cradle your head, brushing against the hair at the nape of your neck. He hoped so badly that he could be a comfort to you, even when he was the one who hurt you in the first place.
He waited almost a minute for you to look up, doing his best to calm you in that time. When you finally raised your eyes to look at him, the fear in your expression was something he’d only ever seen a few times in his life. You were an expert at putting on a brave face for the world, and seeing the uncensored pain displayed there punched him in the gut.
“Baby,” he cooed, pulling you into his arms. He carefully maneuvered your face into the crook of his neck, smiling as you melted into his hold, a content sigh leaving you. He wrapped his arms around you, face rubbing into your hair as he stopped resisting the urge to scent you. He ignored the shiver that ran down his spine at your scent that only seemed to be growing stronger.
The two of you stayed like that for several minutes, your body so limp in his grasp that he had to keep both of you upright himself. He couldn’t tell whether you were awake, goosebumps rising to the surface of his skin as your nose brushed against one of the most sensitive parts of his body.
But when he stood up, wanting to get you somewhere more comfortable than the floor, he felt every muscle in your body tense, a low whine leaving your throat. Your hands grasped onto his shirt. “Jimin-”
“Shh,” he soothed, continuing to nuzzle into you as he stood you both up. “I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not?” you repeated, muffled into his shoulder.
“I’m not.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He scratched lightly at your scalp as the other hand stroked up and down the length of your back, humming when you finally relaxed again, your arms wrapping around to tug him as close as possible. “Good girl.”
Something in him awakened when he heard the hitch of your breath at his words, but he shoved it down. He had to keep a hold of himself while he still had the chance – because once you were in heat, there would be no rest for either of you. Not when it was taking his entire focus to hold himself back right now and it was only your pre-heat.
“I’m gonna take you to your room, okay?” he asked quietly. When you nodded, he scooped you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, head lolling sleepily against his shoulder.
You were very clearly exhausted, and guilt gnawed away at him for it. The emotional ups and downs of the past half hour must have taken even more out of you – while you tended to be quiet, you were never this quiet, not with him. You seemed to be asleep, steady exhales hitting the skin of his neck.
When he entered your room, his heart skipped in his chest at the sight of his belongings strewn across your mattress, a you-sized gap in the middle where you must have been laying. He couldn’t help the pride swelling in his chest, the possessive part of him thrilled at the notion of you burying yourself in his scent.
He supposed he should be happy you were asleep. Omegas tended to be self-conscious about their nest, which was why he was surprised you agreed to let him take you here so easily. The idea that you felt comfortable enough to let him in here without a fight brought forth a feeling in his gut that felt suspiciously like butterflies.
Easing off the shoes he’d never had the chance to remove at the front door, he brought you both down into the bed, careful not to jostle your form. He laid you down together, your body atop his, heart melting at your tiny noise of content.
He had to bite back a moan when you nuzzled further into his neck, your lips brushing against his skin.
Get it together, Jimin.
He didn’t know if he would ever be relaxed enough to sleep when you were on top of him already smelling like every sinful desire he’s ever had. His cock shouldn’t have been stirring when you looked so innocent, your hands curled up ever-so-slightly under his shirt. And despite everything in his mind telling him that he would regret this, his entire body was screaming in anticipation for this entire weekend.
This wouldn’t be the first time he’s helped an omega through their heat, but everything was different because this was you. Someone he cared about, someone he loved, and he knew you loved him too, whether it was in the way he wanted or not. Heat flared in him at the thought of you wet and desperate only for him, begging to be filled. He knew you’d be out of your mind with lust, and even before seeing it he knew it would be the most beautiful sight he’s ever set eyes upon.
Get a hold of yourself, Jimin.
It was absolutely no use to contemplate these things now, especially not when the scent of his arousal might wake you up and set you off prematurely. You both needed rest – he’d be damned if he didn’t make this the best heat you’d ever had just because he was tired.
And so he wrapped his arms around your middle, willing arousal from his brain and replacing it with thoughts of sleep. Luckily, his body must have been able to sense his need for rest before the upcoming days, and sleep found him easier than anticipated.
--
You awoke to your back hitting your mattress, the first thing you noticed being that your body felt like it was being burned alive. But when you inhaled, the scent of pure alpha overtook all thought, brain incapable of anything other than unadulterated need, arousal shooting to your core almost instantaneously.
When your eyes shot open, fire lit within you when they immediately locked onto Jimin’s dark gaze, his body hovering over yours like he was about to pounce. When he took in the neediness in your eyes, his lip upturned in a salacious smirk, stare burning holes into you.
“Rise and shine, little wolf,” he drawled, hands locking onto your ankles and dragging you down the bed until your face was right below his.
You shivered despite yourself at the predatory expression on his face, holding back the whine that threatened to escape. You felt incapable of speaking, every intake of breath only fogging your mind further, the fire in you becoming so potent it was painful.
You couldn’t help the keening whimper that escaped when he roughly fisted a hand into the hair at the nape of your neck, yanking until your entire neck was on display. You gasped and arched into his body with want as he leaned in to inhale deeply right above your collarbone. The feral growl he let out at your scent had you shuddering, trembling hands trying desperately to pull him closer, but he didn’t relent.
“Please,” you begged, shoving your body upwards as much as possible, desperate to feel his body against your own. At the feeling of his canines brushing against the skin of your neck gently, you felt new wetness rush from you. Your desperation was only growing exponentially with every passing moment, and it felt like if you didn’t get touched soon, you would surely die.
“You smell so fucking good,” he snarled, voice raspier than you’d ever heard it before. He sounded almost pained, and it only set you off further. Everything in you ached for his touch, your cunt clenching around nothing despite Jimin not even having touched you yet. You needed it – needed to be touched, you needed him to quell the ache.
“Hurts,” you gasped out, still trying and failing to grind against his body above you.
“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” he cooed, pressing his free palm down onto your clothed centre. His breath hitched as you started forcefully grinding against it immediately, a choked whine slipping from your lips at the sudden pressure right where you needed it most.
“Alpha...” you moaned, rutting shamelessly against his hand as you pushed further against the hand in your hair, baring more of the soft expanse of your neck. Your eyes shut as pleasure rocked your system, but it wasn’t enough. You needed more, his cock in your drenched cunt, his nails raking down your body as he utterly ravished you. You whined loudly at the thought, arousal slipping from you. It was clear he noticed when he hissed.
“Fuck, look at you. You’re dripping, so fucking desperate,” he panted, somehow sounding almost as ruined as you. “I’m gonna fuck this cunt senseless, fill you up so good you’ll never ask for anyone else again. Do you want that, little omega? Want me to make you mine?”
Any other time you might have questioned his possessive words, but any rational part of your brain was long gone. No, all that existed was you, Jimin, and your excruciating need to be filled.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried, whimpering at the imagery he put in your head. You wanted nothing more than to be his bitch, to take his cock and his seed and his knot. “Fuck me, please.”
“You beg so nicely,” he breathed, and you keened at the praise. You gasped as he sat back and quite literally ripped the shirt from your body, following suit with the rest of your clothes. You didn’t have it in you to complain, not when he was yanking your legs apart, gaze laser-focused onto your centre. “Don't worry, baby, your alpha is gonna take care of you, okay?”
You only nodded furiously, hips bucking upward suddenly as Jimin wasted no more time, two fingers smearing through your heat before thrusting abruptly into you. You finally felt some sort of relief at being filled, but it wasn’t enough. The stretch wasn’t satisfying enough, and your desire for more only amplified. But it seemed he knew this, adding another finger wordlessly.
“God, this cunt is so fucking hungry for me,” he growled, pistoning his fingers in and out roughly before grinding the heel of his hand into your clit.
You cried out as pleasure reared on you embarrassingly quickly, but no part of you wanted to cum without his cock inside you, dragging against your sensitive walls.
“Jimin...” you moaned, arching your back as you sought to push yourself closer to the source of your pleasure. He almost groaned at the sound of his name coming so wantonly from your lips. “Want you, please.”
“Yeah? You want to get stuffed?”
The garbled response you gave was nowhere near coherent, but it didn’t take a genius to see what you wanted. When he gave a low chuckle and pulled himself from his sweatpants, you started salivating immediately. He was girthy, vein visibly spanning the underside beneath his hand as he palmed himself. The head looked almost purple, the tip leaking. You needed it inside you.
Before you even realized it yourself, you were turning over onto your front. By the time you’d planted your face down, ass up, Jimin was already growling, roughly digging his fingers into your asscheeks. As several more seconds went by without his cock in you, you arched your back further, whining as he only dug his fingertips in harder.
“Such a good little wolf,” he crooned, hissing when your arousal dripped from your pussy to the bed. “Getting yourself so nice and ready for me. You need cock that badly? Can’t wait for it?”
You could have cried when you finally felt the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you didn’t have time to do or say anything before he shoved all the way in to the hilt without warning.
You must have screamed then, but you hardly noticed anything apart from the way he set a quick pace, hardly noticed when the tears left your eyes, body swimming in relief and euphoria. Every snap of his hips brought forth a moan from your lips, fingers digging helplessly into the sheets by your head.
“Tell me how it feels,” he snarled, moving to hold your hips up when the overwhelming pleasure left you unable to do it yourself.
It was all you could do to whimper, body feeling as though it was in the clouds as your walls clamped down on Jimin’s cock. He was stretching you so well, the slight burn nothing compared to the waves of pleasure he was sending through your entire being. You took a breath to respond to him once you registered what he said, but when his cock brushed against that spot inside you, it only left you as a choked moan.
“This needy cunt just sucks me right in, huh?” he groaned when your walls clenched down on him again, as though to trap him inside you. But it made no difference to him, his thrusts only continuing, fast and precise as your walls fluttered around him, whines falling from your lips. Recalling how responsive you’d been to praise earlier, he kept talking. “Doing such a good job for me, baby,” he hummed, smirking when he felt the shuddering of your body beneath his hands. “So fucking perfect for me, taking this cock so well.”
His words shot through you like fire, and combined with the drag of him inside you, you were propelled toward your end.
“Alpha...” you whimpered, pushing back onto his cock, a particularly rough thrust pulling a shout from your lips. You were so close to slipping over the edge, the squeezing of your walls around him more and more insistent as you approached your end. “Please.” It was as though no other words existed in your vocabulary, but Jimin could read you perfectly well, as though he was made for you.
“What’s that, hm? Baby’s gonna cum?” he taunted before reaching around to rub at your clit. “Let go then, milk my cock. I want to hear you.”
The added stimulation was more than enough to propel you into your orgasm, your mouth agape as your walls clamped down on his cock. You distantly registered Jimin’s moans from above you as he held you up and fucked you through your it, the sparks of pleasure never-ending.
But while his thrusts became less harsh, they did not lower in their intensity whatsoever. And as the fog in your head receded some from your orgasm, you only felt that much more sensation as you regained your bearings.
Rather than a mindless slave to pleasure and want, with your brain partly yours again you could truly feel. Feel the cotton of the sheets where they were clenched between your fists, feel the slight strain in your knees as they dug into the mattress, feel Jimin’s fingers anchored onto your hips, as though you would float away if he let go.
You could truly feel every drag of his cock against you, every grind, and when he perfectly maneuvered to hit against your g-spot, you were left breathless once again.
But with your increased coherence, your body craved more than just cock – you wanted closeness, wanted Jimin’s body against your own, his groans in your ear, his chest against your back.
“Jimin,” you called out, voice needy but noticeably more present.
His thrusts slowed but didn’t stop. “Hm?”
Rather than attempt to formulate an answer, you blindly reached a hand in his direction and made a grabbing motion. It was accompanied by your best impression of some sort of demanding noise, but you sounded like a spoiled brat even to your own ears.
He clearly didn’t mind though, huffing a laugh at your antics before coming down to your level, pressing some of his weight into your back as he nuzzled your neck.
“This what you want, baby?” he asked, wrapping his arms snugly around your middle. It would almost be cute, if not for the snap of his hips he opted to punctuate his question with.
You could only shiver and take it as he set a slow but intense pace, his cock slowly dragging out of you before he thrusted forward quickly in one single motion. But even in its intensity it was intimate, his lips tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin of your shoulder, his moans increasing in volume as you whined your pleasure.
His pace slowly but surely built you back up toward a second release, Jimin’s thrusts growing faster as he approached his own end. It wasn’t long before your moans were increasing in volume again, hips squirming beneath Jimin’s as that pressure in your abdomen only built and built.
“Gonna cum for me again, little wolf?” he growled directly into your ear, digging his fingers in close to your scalp and pulling your face up out of the sheets. No longer muffled, your moans were loud and unabashed, your pleasure surrendered entirely to him.
“I’m gonna fill this cunt up, gonna stretch you wide, is that what you want?”
As much as you were more coherent than last time, the effect his voice had on you was visceral, eyelids fluttering shut and goosebumps raising on your skin. When you only nodded with what little movement you could make within his grasp, he growled.
“Answer me!”
“Yes, yes!” you pleaded, eager to please. “Want you to fill me up, Jimin, please.”
“Such a good girl,” he moaned in response, moving to suck bruises into your neck. The thought of being marked by him for all to see only lit a new fire within you.
But when you felt the press of his canines brushing against the sensitive part of your neck, it was as though something in you snapped. You almost squealed as the orgasm rained down on you unexpectedly, something resembling ‘Jimin’ spilling from your lips, though you paid it no mind.
You were so lost in your pleasure you hardly noticed Jimin’s gruff yell from above you as he came, only registering it as his knot started to stretch you.
He shushed you gently as you whined, warmth still spilling into you as it finished inflating. Panting breathlessly against your back, he softly cupped your face as you caught your breath.
The stretch was more overwhelming than painful, every tiny movement seeming to shift his knot inside you enough to make you gasp. You should have grown used to the feeling by this point in your life, but it managed to catch you off guard every single time. You never felt ready for the immense stretch or the soreness that lingered between waves of your heat.
After several minutes of silence, breaths finally quieting, he spoke up.
“Are you okay?” he asked, hands reaching to keep you from squirming too much under him, knowing you’d only make the discomfort worse. “Relax for me.”
You nodded in response, letting yourself release the tension from your limbs as he continued to gently nose at your neck. His scent washed over you, but in this brief limbo between waves of your heat it spurred only calmness rather than arousal.
For you, at least, the first wave was always the worst in terms of self-control and mindedness. That was why it was essential for omegas to share their heat only with someone they could trust – if not a partner, then a friend. While omegas were at their most emotionally vulnerable during pre-heat, they were at their most physically vulnerable during the heat itself. In theory, Jimin could have done whatever he wanted, and you would have begged for it.
He hummed in approval when you went still beneath him, rolling the two of you onto your side so that you were no longer supporting his weight.
“Sleepy?” he inquired softly as he watched you stifle a yawn.
You only nodded again, reaching for Jimin’s hand to make him wrap it around you more snugly, pressing yourself as close to him as possible. You shivered as his knot shifted with your movement, though it didn’t ache as much as it did initially. You felt so full, his cock still half-hard within you, release still painting your walls with nowhere to go.
You let your eyes shut, soreness and exhaustion taking up residence temporarily before the next wave. As much as a heat could feel so intense it hurt, you found that the time between each wave was truly the most difficult. It was the time where every ounce of muscle pain and sleep deprivation hit you, but it was also the time where, to put it simply, if you didn’t recharge you were fucked.
Heats were strenuous on the body, and it unfortunately wasn’t abnormal for omegas to be brought to the emergency room from dehydration and malnutrition from their heat. That was why the medical professionals tended to encourage of-age omegas to spend their heats with a trusted partner – it was just safer altogether. It was difficult to push past the fog of exhaustion to take care of yourself when you were on your own, though not impossible.
A tiny whine was the only acknowledgment you gave when you felt his knot go down enough to slip from you. You made a noise of complaint as Jimin pulled from your side, but he quickly returned to you, wiping away the mess that was now between your thighs.
“If I help you, can you sit up?”
After hearing your noise of affirmation, he pulled you up so that your back rested against the headboard, careful not to move you too quickly. But despite that, you couldn’t help the lightheaded feeling that came with the motion, reaching out to steady yourself on Jimin’s arm.
When he took in your rapid blinking and unfocused eyes, his concern grew exponentially. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Tired,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch when he moved to stroke your face.
“Let’s eat something and then we can nap, okay?”
“Mm.”
He moved away from you quickly to grab things from under your bed. One of the first things they taught omegas after presenting was that it was essential to keep a food and drink store in your room during your heat. One of the most important parts of pre-heat was not only securing a heat partner if desired, but also packing enough nutrient-rich food and drinks to last through your heat if you’re unable to leave the room.
You hadn’t realized you’d dozed off until Jimin’s hand on your shoulder startled you awake. He took your hand in his own only to wrap your fingers around an energy bar he’d opened for you.
“Eat,” he commanded, though the soft, caring tone characteristic of Jimin never left his voice.
The thought of putting in effort to do anything was unappealing, but once you started, you realized how famished you were. When you finished your first bar within moments, he handed you a second, eating some for himself at the same time.
He didn’t waste any time with handing you a Gatorade bottle once you were finished eating, ensuring you could hold it yourself before getting his own.
As much as he seemed to be in a rush, this was a better safe than sorry type of situation. While sometimes you could squeeze in some sleep between waves of your heat, it sometimes felt like one huge gamble in terms of time. You’ve had downtimes of as little as 10 minutes in the past, so you were grateful that he was hurrying you along.
When he noticed you stopped drinking, he grabbed it from you to place it on the nightstand a safe distance away from the bed.
“Do you want anything else?” he asked, shoving all of the garbage into a bag to deal with another time.
“You.”
He turned around quickly, thinking you were going into your next wave, but froze at the sight of you simply blinking up at him sleepily.
He bit down on his lip to suppress a fond smile when you reached for his hand, severely hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt.
He let you tug him forward, settling beside you in bed before pulling you securely into his side.
As much as you might have loved to talk or quietly cuddle, you were out like a light as soon as you laid your head down on his shoulder, face tucked securely into his neck.
--
The next two days went by in a blur. You never tended to remember very many specific moments from your heats besides that you felt good, and were definitely sore after. The combination of physical and mental exhaustion along with the mind-numbing desire didn’t seem to be conducive to proper brain function.
Fuck. Eat. Fuck. Eat. Nap. Rinse. Repeat.
“Kiss me,” you demanded, pulling Jimin down toward you by his shoulders.
From what you could tell, it was the last day of your heat, also making for the most coherent day. The consequences of not sating your heat on the last day were more uncomfortable than painful, and the sex almost resembled what it would any other day.
He obliged you easily, mouth meeting yours as he snapped his hips, filling you up and stretching you all in one stroke. He nipped at your lower lip as you moaned freely, arching your back to feel as much of his skin as possible.
You couldn’t help the increase in volume when he settled with his length in you, grinding his pubic bone into your clit. It seemed that Jimin was feeling similarly, both of you simply panting by each other's mouths rather than doing any sort of kissing like you’d intended.
It was only minutes before you felt the familiar tightening in your abdomen, Jimin groaning above you when he felt you clench around him. You whimpered as he sucked new bruises into the skin of your neck, a shiver making its way down your spine as he reached the soft skin below your ear.
But every part of you was screaming out for more.
“Mark me.”
Jimin froze instantly at your words, but it seemed that you weren’t properly considering the weight of your words, only urging him to continue his motions in search of your high.
A mark wasn’t permanent, but it was no small thing. More than a mark of “possession,” it was a mark of an alpha's care and loyalty, a mark of an omega’s trust. It was only something ever shared in serious relationships, and it would sometimes take partners years to reach that point.
“Jimin,” you whined when he ignored what you said. Every instinctive part of you wanted it so badly, your head subconsciously tipping back to give him easier access.
“No.”
“Jimin...”
“Don’t you know what you’re saying?”
“Please-”
“I said no,” he snarled, speeding up the snap of his hips enough that you were shifting up the bed. “Tomorrow, when this is all over,” he panted above you, teeth bared, “Then we’ll talk.”
He didn’t let you get a word in edgewise, continuously pulling himself from you fully before abruptly sheathing himself to the hilt once again.
You were left gasping for breath, swimming in sensation as your abdomen tightened, all else forgotten for the time being.
When he shifted to one side, a hand dropping to rub circles into your clit, you saw white. Your nails sharply dug into the skin of Jimin’s back where they were held, waves of pleasure battering you nonstop as he continued his thrusts.
But it was only moments later that he seated himself into you fully, warmth spilling into you as his knot inflated for the nth time since your heat began. It didn’t leave you gasping the same way as the first time, but a groan still wrenched itself from your throat at the sensation.
As soon as his body collapsed onto yours, you knew that your heat was finally over. The feeling was inexplicable, almost as though a weight had been lifted from the back of your mind.
You might have addressed the words uttered from your mouth only moments before if not for the debilitating fatigue that filled every limb and every square inch of your brain.
So, against your best judgment on any other day, you knocked right out.
--
When you next awoke, it wasn’t because desire ripped you from slumber, nor was it because your scent set off Jimin enough to wake you.
In fact, you were alone in your bed, immediately cringing at the sight of all the questionable stains dotting the sheets.
Good thing you had a mattress pad.
You sat up, wincing as every muscle screamed in protest. From your neck all the way to your fingertips, everything hurt. You’d probably be feeling this for days. It definitely didn’t help that the stench of sex was so strong you could feel a headache coming on.
You didn’t have time to ponder on Jimin’s whereabouts before he was coming back in through the doorway, half-dressed with water in hand.
He sent you a smile when you met eyes, but it was lost on you because as soon as he was here, every interaction over the past few days flooded your mind at once. And this time, there were no hormones to mask proper thought.
You asked – no, begged – him to stay. Even when he told you no.
You’d practically thrown a tantrum, what was wrong with you? Since when did your pre-heat make you throw respect out the window?
He wasn’t here because he wanted to stay, he was here because you forced him to. He was here because you were pathetic enough to get on the floor and beg him to stay, and Jimin, for the life of him, didn’t know how to say no to people. How could he look at you right now?
“Y/N?” he called, sounding puzzled. He must be able to smell your rising distress coming off you in waves, but you paid him no mind as you continued to recall the past few days, hating yourself more and more with every passing second.
You’d basically forced him to stay with you and fuck you for nearly four days without ever talking about it before.
It was more difficult to put together the pieces of what happened in your heat, memories mostly a blur of pleasure and then sleep.
But-
Fuck.
“Mark me.”
Your blood ran cold instantly.
Were you fucking insane? You dug your fingernails into your palms harshly to check if you were dreaming. Unluckily for you, you weren’t.
Was there any coming back from this? You couldn’t blame him if he could never look at you the same, if he never spoke to you again. Who would tell their heat partner – the first time they spent a heat together – to mark them?
It didn’t matter that you’d known each other since before you were even forming proper memories. It didn’t matter, because that wasn’t how this worked. You didn’t just ask your friends to mark you, no matter how much you loved each other.
A mark was something you shared with someone you intended to be lifelong partners with. Someone you’d dedicate your life to, someone you might want to have kids with someday.
God, what was wrong with you?
You didn’t notice his approach until a hand met your shoulder, too engrossed in staring at the floor as thoughts whirred in your head.
“What is it?” he asked, concern quickly turning into panic at finding you in this state with no explanation.
But it was as though with one touch, the floodgates broke, and angry tears started spilling from your eyes. Tears that had nothing to do with Jimin and everything to do with yourself.
He jumped back slightly in surprise, and you didn’t give him the chance to touch you again before you were furiously wiping the wetness from your face.
“God, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he questioned frantically, hands returning to your shoulders as he angled his face to try to meet yours, but you only kept turning your head to avoid him. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself, whether to join you on the bed or continue hovering awkwardly from the bedside. “Talk to me, please-”
“Do you hate me?” you choked out, eyes fixed on a random, insignificant spot on the sheets.
That seemed to quiet him instantly. “Huh?”
“I forced you here,” you whispered, though it seemed that the words didn’t want to stop once they started, volume only rising as you carried on. “You came here to be nice and then you tried to leave and I didn’t let you. You said no so many times and I begged you to stay until you couldn’t say no anymore! I don’t even know what I was thinking, I guess I wasn’t thinking at all-”
“Hey-”
“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how you must think of me right now but I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I was disgusting, I think I’m disgusting, god-”
“Hey, look at me,” he urged, prodding lightly at your chin until you raised your head enough to meet his gaze. When he saw your red eyes and miserable expression, it was as though a piece of himself broke. “I stayed because I wanted to.”
“You didn't, I remember you told me no, you ‘wanted to’ because I made you.”
“It’s not like that,” he replied, expression almost pained.
“Don’t lie to me to make me feel better,” you snarled, though it came off more broken than aggressive. “Stop trying to protect me, tell me when you’re mad at me!”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Jimin-”
“You trust me, don’t you?”
The sudden question was enough to give you pause. “You know I do.”
He took a moment to settle onto the bed beside you, stretching out an arm to invite you in to lay with him. After only a moment of hesitation, you did.
“Then trust me when I say I wanted to stay,” he said firmly, stroking calming circles into your side. “You know I don’t like lying to you.”
It was true, he didn’t. Which summoned the question – if he wanted to stay, why did he refuse so many times? Were you sure he wasn’t lying now?
No – that wasn’t Jimin. Plus, you knew him so well that you doubted he would lie to you about something this serious, not when he was such an open book. But you didn’t have long to think about it before he piped up again.
“You asked me something yesterday,” he started, and you could hear in his tone that he was treading carefully.
You tensed up immediately when you processed his words, breath quickening as you anticipated what he was about to say. Was this the part where he told you he’s not mad he stayed, but he never wanted to speak to you again? You’d relaxed enough in the past few minutes that you’d almost forgotten about what you’d said yesterday. Almost.
“Why?” he asked simply.
Why. An obscenely loaded question contained within one 3-letter word. And yet, an answer wasn’t so easy.
“I don’t know,” you stalled.
“Don’t do that,” he scolded. “Really think. I know you, and I know you’d never be that nonchalant about a mark, ever. What changed?”
“Nothing changed!”
He only turned to give you a disapproving look before leaning his head back against the headboard and shutting his eyes. It was clear that he wasn’t going to make any more conversation until you properly pondered his question and gave him a real answer.
Why?
Did you even know why?
You wished you could say it just slipped out, that there was no other reason.
Maybe any other time you’ve said something questionable or downright stupid that would fly, but not for something like this.
Even at their drunkest, people didn’t ask their friends to marry them with the full intent of following through and starting life as an actual married couple.
Just the same, an omega doesn’t just ask a friend to mark them, mate them, not even in heat. Omega heats made it a fairly common occurrence to fuck your friends (at least, a select few) while unmarked, and it wasn’t as though the desire to be marked stemmed from a heat. If it were, platonic marking would be a thing already. And sure, marking made sex feel better, but heats were sexual, and marks were... more.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? There was no easy excuse, no escaping this.
One might say an omega was a slave to instinct in their heat, but instinct didn’t come from nowhere.
The instinct to nest came from the pursuit of safety in a vulnerable time. The instinct to ‘hibernate’ came from the need to save up energy for a heat. The instinct to scent came from the desire for intimacy and comfort. The instinct to fuck came from hormonal cycles and the body’s inherent goal to breed.
The instinct to be marked as an omega? To ask for it?
The need for emotional security, to know that your feelings were returned – attraction, desire, love.
Love?
If your love for Jimin was supposed to be a secret, it wasn’t a very well-kept one. You talked every day since you were kids, knew each other's mannerisms so well you didn’t need words to communicate, gravitated toward each other in every group setting, cried together when you separated for university...
You loved him, without a doubt. It was obvious. But was it more than that? Was your body trying to tell you something that you didn’t even consider?
“I...” you started but immediately trailed off, limbs so tense you almost seemed ready to run away. This wasn’t a conversation you ever imagined could take place.
“Don’t be scared. You can tell me anything.” Were you imagining things, or did his tone sound almost... hopeful?
“I’ve never asked someone to mark me before this.”
He only hummed lowly in response. You knew that he knew this already, but it seemed that this time, he wouldn’t call you out for circling around the question.
“I’ve never met someone who I felt more for than you. Safe, comfortable, happy, loved.” You paused, taking a deep breath. “I love you a lot, you know?”
His breath hitched despite himself, even though he knew you didn’t mean what he wanted you to mean. “I know,” he replied, sounding almost disappointed.
“But...”
“But?” he responded, allowing that tiny thread of hope to wind around his heart one more time.
“But I don’t know what I’m feeling,” you finished, panic increasing exponentially by the end of your sentence, your body almost feeling as though it was trembling.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he rushed, bringing you closer to rub his cheek into your hair. Was it cruel of him to feel some sort of joy at your words when you were clearly scared and confused?
His scent washing over you helped calm you some, but even still, you couldn’t stop thinking. What were you feeling? Did you want something more than friendship, or was this entire situation just putting thoughts in your head? Sure, you were undeniably compatible sexually, and sure, you found him attractive, but did you want a relationship? A romantic one? But even then, how much would that really change? What did you want? Would Jimin be disgusted with you? Let you down easily? It would have to be the latter, right?
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-”
“No,” you cut him off.
“Huh?”
“You should’ve. I can’t be stupid forever.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“I am stupid, what kind of person doesn’t know whether they...” Even despite knowing he could tell exactly what you were trying to say, the words wouldn’t come from your lips. Were you in denial? Embarrassed? Something else?
“Emotions don’t have to be straightforward.”
“I wish they were.”
He breathed a laugh at that. “Believe me, I know.”
“Jimin, be honest with me.”
“I’m always honest with you.”
“Let’s say, hypothetically, you have this friend. You’re very good friends – best friends even. You see each other as much as possible, all that. And she tells you one day she wants to talk.”
“Oh? What’s her name?”
“Uhhhhh...” you paused, pulling out the first name that came to mind. “Susan.”
He choked back a laugh, though you could still feel his chest bouncing beneath your head. “My friend Susan. Okay, go on.”
“And she tells you that something happened, and it spurred this huge train of thought that had never occurred to her before. Something that made her think about your entire relationship as friends, and made her think about herself.”
“Uh huh...”
“And she had to wonder, how much of her heart was invested in this relationship? That answer was easy – all of it. But what really had her confused was what parts of her heart were in it.”
You fidgeted nervously, but instead of saying something, Jimin only reached for one of your hands, intertwining your fingers together.
“But what really scared her the most was – how would you react? What happens when your best friend tells you that maybe your love for them extends beyond friendship?”
You took several deep breaths, trying to muster up the courage to finish the ‘story’ you’ve started. There was no backing out of this now. Your hand squeezed his hard enough that it must have hurt him, though he didn’t seem to mind.
“If she told you she thought she loved you as more than a friend, how would you respond?” you asked, trying to inject as much nonchalance into your voice as possible and failing miserably. You could feel your palms getting sweatier, and you thought your teeth might chew straight through your bottom lip. You held your breath once you heard Jimin take one of his own, preparing mentally for whatever was about to leave his lips.
“I would tell her I love her back.”
It was as though time stopped. “You... you what?”
Unwilling to let you hide your face anymore, he pulled you over so that you were straddling him, your heart filling when your eyes met his, full of honesty and understanding and... love.
“I would tell her I love her back. That if she wanted me, I was hers.”
Your eyes searched his face desperately for several seconds longer, waiting for the moment this bliss would break, the moment he took his words back, left you heartbroken before you’d even properly processed that it was his to break. But that moment never came.
“Really?” you whispered, eyes wide and screaming with vulnerability, but also wonder. The petty part of him wished he could fault you for being so oblivious, but it wasn’t your fault that you two had simply never outgrown the innocent intimacy from childhood, even after presenting.
“Really.”
“I do want it. You. I want to try. If you can be patient with me.”
“Okay. Give me a chance and I’ll make you fall in love with me for sure.”
“Oh.” As hard as you tried to purse your lips, the smile still broke its way through, eyes crinkling happily as every insecurity felt like it left at once. Was it this easy? Could happiness come so quickly in a moment, just like that?
“Oh,” he replied simply, beam splitting his face at your barely-contained joy, your expression so innocent even after all that happened the past few days.
“Oh,” you repeated, though this time the word undoubtedly seemed to harbour more weight, brows furrowing.
“Hm?”
“That’s why you said no, isn’t it? The reason you wanted to stay but tried to leave?”
The sad smile that spread across his face at that was all the answer you needed, the briefly-forgotten guilt coming back instantly.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” he assured, pulling you close enough that your bodies were plastered together. “It all worked out anyway, right?”
You nodded, relaxing in his arms. If your brain wasn’t going a mile a minute right now, you were so comfortable you could’ve slept like this.
You allowed yourself several minutes to simply lay in his arms, that familiar blueberry-pine scent making you heart feel lighter and lighter.
“So,” you mumbled.
“So.”
“What changes now?”
“What do you want to change?” he replied.
“I asked first.”
He chuckled lightly. “Fine. Well...” You leaned back in confusion when he started pushing you up and off of him. “I think being able to do this is a good change.”
He leaned his face into yours, giving you a moment to back away before gently pressing his plush lips to yours.
You’d kissed already in your heat – you remembered that much. But this wasn’t a kiss that demanded your surrender, nor was it fast, or rough. It was just soft, intimate – because sometimes, emotions were easier said through actions rather than words.
You slid your hands into his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp as you deepened the kiss. His hands traced nonsensical patterns into the skin of your back, holding you close as though you’d ever want to leave. It was so easy to get lost in him, in the way he held you, touched you, kissed you, as though you were something to be cherished.
It wasn’t long before the kiss started to get more heated, though, and you couldn’t help yourself from nipping at his bottom lip. He made a low noise in response, a hand moving to grip your ass as the other winded its way into your hair.
It was when his hand made contact with your bare ass that you remembered that you were naked throughout this entire ordeal. And just as you processed that, his hand started inching its way slowly but surely between your legs.
“I think the fuck not, Park Jimin,” you gasped, breaking the kiss and throwing his hand from your body.
He burst into bright laughter at your words, eyes forming crescents that would make any person’s day better. His happiness was contagious, and you couldn’t hold back the giggles at the sound of him.
“How sore are you?” he questioned, tiny giggles still escaping him. You thought you detected a hint of concern somewhere in there, but you couldn’t blame him for being in an obscenely good mood.
“Ugh. Are you not sore at all?”
“Not really? Mostly hungry, I guess.”
“I hate you. It feels like all of my limbs want to detach from their sockets, and don’t even get me started on what it feels like between my legs. You and your dick can go die.”
Your words only set off another round of laughter from him, his grin wide as he took in your fake pout.
“Are you sure you want that? You seemed to enjoy it from where I was standing. You’re sending me mixed signals here,” he teased.
You let out a childish noise of complaint. God, was this what you were getting yourself into? You were already used to his antics by now, but now you had to deal with them while he flirted too? Someone send help.
“Pity me a bit,” you whined, giving him the best wide-eyed pout you could muster. Though, it only seemed to raise his mood even more.
“I’m sorry I broke you,” he said.
You smacked him a bit harder than you would normally. “Jiminnnnnnnnn,” you said, stringing out the word for as long as a breath would allow.
“If I made you food, would you forgive me?”
“...I’m listening.”
“What if I said I already made you food?”
“What?!” you perked up, any grudge you might have held disappearing in an instant. “What did you make?”
“Lay down and find out in 5 minutes, I’m tired,” he responded, laying down comfortably and encouraging you to do the same. You didn’t require much convincing, cuddling back into his side. This position wasn’t anything abnormal for you two, but it felt different now. Newer, more intimate.
Needless to say, 5 minutes turned into 2 hours after you’d both fell asleep.
But when Jimin placed a bowl of re-heated stir-fry in front of you 2 hours later, you would say he secured his place as fully, unequivocally yours.
5K notes · View notes
joonscypher · 7 months ago
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Just Like the Movies | JJK (M)
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❀ Summary: When you need a fake date for your cousin’s wedding and all of your other friends have plans, that only leaves your best friend Jungkook - who you also happen to be completely in love with. It’ll be easy getting through a week of fake dating him, right?
❀ Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader
❀ Rating & Genre: 18+, angst, fluff, smut, friends/idiots to lovers au, fake dating au, college au
❀ Warnings: Profanity, alcohol consumption, unprotected drunk sex (both parties are aware of what’s going on!), fingering, oral (female receiving), Jungkook throws a punch but that’s it.
❀ Words: 16.6k
❀ A/N: This was written for @bangtanarmynet​’s Spring Will Come Again event! My prompts were:
(8)"So I told them that I'm in a relationship." "And now you're asking me to do what? Be your plus one in a fake dating AU?" (7) Spring Break is coming and whilst most of A’s friends are preparing to go on fun vacations, A has nothing planned. That is until their best friend and secret crush B, invites them on a vacation abroad.
Huge, massive thank you to @erotikkook​​, @hisunshiine​​, and @lunarlxve​​ for being my amazing, wonderful, life-saving beta readers! Without them, this fic would probably be a hot-ass mess. Extra special thank you to Vanessa for coming up with the title! I am horrible at titles and she thought of this and I almost yelled I was so happy with it, so thank you again 💕 The beautiful, magnificent banner was made by the talented @jinfizz​​. I really love it Mads ty again!! ❤️  
I feel like I say this everytime I finish a fic more than like 4k, but this is now my longest fic to date. I was chugging away at this for... a while and it has had many rewrites and changes, but here she is in all her final glory! Enjoy 😊
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“Are you sure you both have to leave?” you whine, flopping onto Taehyung’s bed.
“For the tenth time Y/n, yes. My grandparents really need my help on the farm.” Taehyung says, reaching for one of his folded shirts that lay beside you.
“And you know if I skip going home for the second year in a row, my mom’ll show up on campus and literally drag me home,” Jimin adds, zipping up his suitcase. “Besides, I still don’t know why you’re being so dramatic about going home with Jungkook. You’d think you’d be excited to pretend to be his fake girlfriend with how whipped you are for him.”
In response, you fling the nearest article of clothing at him, which just so happens to be a pair of Taehyung’s underwear. “Shut up, don’t be an ass! I’d be more excited if he didn’t react the way he did when I asked.”
“He told you he was just nervous he’d fuck it up, remember?” Taehyung reminds you.
“Yeah, but still. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to last a week pretending to date someone I wish was actually my boyfriend.” Jimin and Taehyung share a knowing look when you’re not watching, but don’t say anything more.
With one of your cousins getting married at the same time as your university’s spring break, your family is ecstatic. They’re looking forward to seeing you after being so far from home. Being a student from another country meant that when you moved to South Korea for school, you would be leaving behind your large, close-knit family. You use any opportunity you have to see them.
The problem, though, is that you know as soon as you show up, you’ll get question after question thrown at you. You’ll be asked where your significant other was and when you were going to settle down. As the oldest cousin in your family, you’re used to the interrogation, but that doesn’t make it any less grating.
That’s why when your mom brought the wedding up and asked if you were bringing your partner, you said yes, but intentionally avoided saying who it was.
You’ve asked every member of your friend group. Unfortunately, with Taehyung, Jimin, Seokjin, and your roommate Sana all going home for the break, that left your closest friend out of the group: Jungkook.
Jungkook, who you have also been in love with since you met two years ago and whom you’ve been pining over for just as long. You didn’t intend on asking him, but after Jimin threatened to tell Jungkook that you wanted to ‘suck the soul of him’, you caved and asked him when the two of you were in the library studying for a quiz.
“You know how last month, I mentioned that my cousin’s wedding is coming up during spring break?” you asked suddenly.
“Yeah.”
“And you know how I told you the other day that I had plans for us to go abroad on vacation together for spring break?”
This caught Jungkook’s attention. He looked up from his textbook, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Mmhmm…”
“Well, I need you to come with me and pretend to be my boyfriend.”
“What?!” he said a little too loudly, earning a dirty look from a student at another table.
“Oh, come on, you know how my family is. Always up my ass about dating and settling down. They’re all going to give me so much shit if I show up alone, so I told them that I’m in a relationship.”
"And now you're asking me to do what? Be your plus one in a fake dating AU?"
This wasn’t the reaction you expected, so you tried to ignore the hurt you felt at Jungkook being so against the idea of dating you.
“Please? I’ll still pay for your ticket like I said I would. I’ll make sure not to be all sappy in public and make you uncomfortable.”
You watched as multiple unreadable expressions flashed across Jungkook’s face. Every second of silence had you regretting asking him more and more.
“Alright,” Jungkook finally sighed. “I’ll do it. And you won’t make me uncomfortable. I just don’t want to blow your cover, is all.” He scratched the back of his neck, nervously looking away.
Relieved that Jungkook didn’t seem as turned off as he did with being your fake boyfriend, you brushed off his hesitance. “Is that what you’re worried about? Don’t be silly. It’ll be fine. We’ll just need to work on our story, is all.”
You went back to your textbook, feeling less stressed than you had going into this conversation.
Next to you, Jungkook sent a panicked text to Jimin and Taehyung, telling them he won’t be able to survive pretending to be your boyfriend because he knows it’ll never be true. He wanted more than anything to tell you how much he loves you, but you don’t feel the same, so he’ll keep it to himself.
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The flight home is a long one and has both you and Jungkook feeling restless in your seats. You’ve gone through the account of how you got together at least every four hours of the sixteen-hour flight to make sure it’s solid. Since your mom and siblings already know who Jungkook is, having met him multiple times over video calls, you luckily didn’t need to fabricate too much.
When asked how you got together, the story is that Jungkook confessed to you three months ago when you were hanging out studying one night. You’re going to say you’ve always had feelings for him, so you said yes, and so far, it has been a fantastic time together.
Even though you’re an expert at hiding any reaction about your true feelings towards Jungkook, saying it out loud made you ache. More than anything, you wanted it to be real, but you had long since made peace with the idea that you and Jungkook would likely never get together.
He isn’t the first person you’ve been friends with that you had developed feelings for. There have been a few other occasions, but the first was in your first year of middle school. You had developed a crush on a boy you’d known all year and told him during a school dance, thinking it would be the perfect scenario to confess how you felt. Unfortunately, you had misread some supposed signals from him because he flat out rejected you and wasn’t too kind about it. You still remember the harsh words about how you would “never be his type,” and the laughter that followed.
Soon after, word had spread to your friend group, and he, along with a few others, stopped speaking with you. Just like that, you had lost some of your close friends because of a silly crush. You know Jungkook isn’t comparable to a childish teenage boy and that your current friends won’t abandon you (seeing how they all know how you feel). However, the fear and the hurt still lingers like a sour taste at the back of your mouth. The thought of ruining your friendship with Jungkook terrifies you. If that means you have to pine over him for the remainder of college and into adulthood, then so be it.
Upon finally landing and collecting your bags, your mind is still swirling with what-ifs around if you should admit your feelings to Jungkook, but you’re finally stopped when you hear your name being called across the airport.
Turning with your bags still in hand, you see your mom, brother, and sister waving you down as they rush over to you. Before you can properly greet them, your mom pulls you into a tight hug.
“Y/n! Oh my god, you’re here!” She sounds like she’s going to cry as she rocks you back and forth. “You’re finally here!”
“Yes, I’m here. I missed you.” You hug her back, getting misty-eyed yourself.
“Alright, mom, can we hug her too?” your brother calls from behind her. Reluctantly, she releases her grip on you so your siblings can each give you hugs of their own.
The four of you fall into chatter before you remember Jungkook standing awkwardly beside you.
“Ah, right! Jungkook, you’ve already met them on video chat, but this is my mom, my sister Kayla, and my brother Ray. Guys, this is my boyfriend, Jungkook.”
“Hi,” he chirps out, offering a small wave. Your mom immediately pulls Jungkook into a hug.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you in person!” He looks taken aback but returns the hug anyway.
After all the greetings are done, your brother leads everyone through the airport and into the parking lot. Your sister lags behind to walk next to you as Jungkook, your brother, and mom walk ahead of you, making conversation with him.
“Wow. He’s even hotter in person,” Kayla comments, eyes very clearly fixated on Jungkook’s ass in his favorite pair of ripped jeans.
“Um, can you not?!” You push her half-jokingly, but she barely notices.
“Oh, chill out. I’m not going to steal your boyfriend from you. I’m just admiring the scenery, is all.” You shoot her another look. “Fine, I’ll stop.” She loops her arm through yours as you continue outside to your brother’s parked SUV.
Ray and Jungkook pack both of your suitcases into the trunk as you pile in, your mom taking shotgun and Kayla sitting to one side, leaving you to sit between her and Jungkook.
The ride through traffic takes a little time, but your mother fills the silence with talk of your cousin's wedding even though you’ve already talked about the whole thing at least twenty times.
Your cousin and her soon-to-be wife had asked your mom to hold the wedding in the backyard of your childhood home. Your house was always where your family would convene for reunions, birthday parties, and barbeques, simply because it was the biggest, so naturally, this was your cousin's first choice.
Even though you already know this, and all of the other small details of the wedding, it doesn’t stop your mom from pulling up pictures on her phone. She shows Jungkook all of the centerpieces and goody bags they’ve already made. She gushes about how excited she is to see one of her nieces finally get married and says it while giving you a look that you know all too well. “And you’ll be next, right?” you can practically hear her asking you.
As if sensing your discomfort rising, your brother pipes up, launching into a story about a new client he’s building a house for and how hard it is being an architect. He shoots you a look through the rearview mirror, and you nod, letting him know how grateful you are at the conversation rescue.
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“Wow,” you breathe out once the car is parked and everyone is standing in the driveway. Even after all these years, your childhood home has stayed the same. Pale blue paint on the outside with the same white shutters and white door. The lawn is slightly unruly, but the tree you’ve fallen out of plenty of times still stands tall and proud.
“It’s good to have you home,” your mother says from behind you, squeezing your arm before heading up the walkway.
Once inside, the all too familiar scent that smells like cleaning supplies and freshly cooked food surrounds you as you lead Jungkook upstairs. The two of you would be staying in your childhood bedroom, which your mother has, surprisingly, left untouched.
Upon entering, you can’t help but laugh as you plop onto your bed. It’s truly the same, you think, as you take in your My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy posters that line the walls and your desk that still holds a stack of Twilight books. Your queen bed even has the same pale pink comforter you left on it when you went away for college - clean and freshly washed, of course.
Jungkook eyes a few pictures you have hanging up on a corkboard above your desk with some of your high school friends and can’t help but smile at the sight of you in braces and mid-2000s fashion. Even if he had been in the same country as you in high school and met you then, he’d still love you the way he does now.
“So…” you speak, breaking the silence that had taken over the two of you. “This isn’t too weird, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“This.” You gesture between the two of you and your bedroom. “All of this. Lying to my family and being in my bedroom.”
“You act like I don’t hang out in your bedroom back at school.”
“Jungkook, you know what I mean. We’ve never shared a bed.” You shrug, playing it off as a casual observation as if your hand isn’t trembling at the thought.
As if the realization hits him at the same time, Jungkook’s eyes widen slightly as his gaze darts to the bed. “Oh, right. Well, I mean, I can always just sleep on the floor when everyone else goes to bed so they won’t know. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t need to do that. It’s not that big of a deal. I was just saying.” Kicking yourself for even bringing it up, you try to think of a way to steer the conversation away from sleeping arrangements. You feel relief when there’s a knock on your door, interrupting the awkward atmosphere. “Come in!”
Your sister pokes her head in, eyes taking in your body still sprawled on the bed with Jungkook standing close by, not having moved from where he was observing your photos.
“Aunt Cora and Aunt Tia are here,” she informs you.
“Okay, we’ll be right behind you.” You jump up, anxious to leave the awkwardness behind, and follow her out of the room, Jungkook in tow.
“Did I interrupt?” Kayla mumbles in your ear, her eyebrow wiggling.
“No. We were just talking.” You clear your throat, hoping Jungkook isn’t listening.
“Mmhmm. Talking. Whatever you say. Tonight, can you just please remember that we share a wall? I can put my headphones on when I sleep. I just ask that you give a girl a heads up.”
“Kayla!” You nearly trip down the stairs at her words, your cheeks instantly heating up as she speaks to both you and Jungkook.
Thankfully, none of you can come up with anything else to say before your Aunt Cora spots you and immediately rushes over to pull you into a hug.
You spend the rest of the evening greeting your aunts and cousins, including your cousin Nikki and her fianceé Diana. All embarrassment about your arrangement with Jungkook is forgotten as you bond with your family. You haven’t seen your family since you left for school, so you prioritize getting caught up in everyone’s lives.
Jungkook himself also spends plenty of time bonding with the family. Once you play 20 questions with your family, they begin to question him about his family, how he grew up, and Korea in general. He graciously answers all of their questions, his figure visibly relaxing, and he even eventually falls into a more casual conversation with your cousin Jason.
At some point, your five-year-old cousin Gina decides that she likes Jungkook the most and proceeds to mold herself to his side for the rest of the night. Seeing how comfortable he is holding and playing with her makes your heart clench, and your cheeks hurt from how much you smile as you watch him.
“Looks like he’s good with kids,” your mom muses from next to you as you help her prepare some ears of corn for boiling. You both watch Jungkook at the kitchen table with Gina in his lap, reading her one of her books that she shoved in his face.
“Yeah, he is.” You hand her a corn cob as you hear Jungkook over the chatter of the rest of the family, making his voice a pitch higher while reading.
“Does this mean grandbabies are in the future?” This question jolts you out of your trance and you turn to meet her smirk.
“Mom!”
“Oh come on, don’t ‘mom’ me. He’s cute, polite, he’s good with kids, and it’s obvious you really like him. You haven’t even been here an entire day, but I see the way you look at him.”
“I-I don’t-”
“There’s no need to be embarrassed. The way you both ogle each other is cute.” She shrugs and puts the last ear of corn into the boiling pot.
“What do you mean we ‘both ogle each other?’” You’d been ready to abandon the conversation until she mentioned that.
“Just like I said, honey. You’ve been doing it all evening. When one of you isn’t looking, the other is making lovey eyes at the other. It’s obvious you love each other.”
“Aunty! We lost the remote!” One of your cousins interrupts the conversation, running over to your mom and tugging at her shirt.
She tsks at the child but nods. “I’ll come and help you find it. Y/n, keep an eye on the stove, please. The macaroni and cheese should be done any minute now, just make sure no one comes over to pick at anything before it’s done.”
As much as you want to question her more on the looks she claims are mutual, your little cousin grabs her hand and all but yanks her away from you. She has to be imagining things. You’re sure the only looks Jungkook gives you when you aren’t looking are ones of exhaustion at having to pretend like this. It’s only day one, and you still have an entire week like this to go.
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Dinner goes off without a hitch. Being surrounded by your family with your mom’s cooking makes you miss being back home with everyone. Still, having Jungkook at the table reminds you of the new life you’ve built in Korea, and you tell yourself that you could never abandon all of that.
After dinner and watching a movie, where half the room ends up talking through it, your family members begin to file out, saying their goodbyes and that they’ll be by tomorrow. You, Jungkook, and your siblings clean up and do the dishes before you all head upstairs into your separate bedrooms for the night.
Once all of the commotion has died down, and it’s just you and Jungkook again, the awkwardness from earlier returns. Only this time, you’re lying in the quiet dark of your bedroom with Jungkook in bed next to you.
Your mind is racing as you try and sleep. You’re distracted by the even sounds of Jungkook breathing next to you and the way heat radiates off of his body and onto you. You’re not sure if he’s actually asleep or if he’s also suffocating in the tense air of the room, but you’re too scared to ask. Eventually, you turn away from him, shutting your eyes and trying to count sheep to see if sleep will find you. The harder you force yourself, though, the tougher rest is to come by.
That’s why when you wake up the following morning, you can practically feel the bags underneath your eyes weighing you down as you get ready for the day. Your sister demands that you go with her to get a dress for the wedding since she, as is typical of her, waited until the last minute to get something to wear.
Jungkook stays behind at Kayla’s request, stating she wants sister time. You have an inkling that she actually wants to use this time to grill you about your relationship. Your suspicions are confirmed as you recline in the chair outside of the fitting room she’s in.
“So...you look pretty tired this morning, Y/n. Long night?” Her suggestive tone clues you in almost immediately.
“Yeah, the time difference is really fucking me up. I’m way too used to Korea time now,” you answer smoothly. This is partially true. You’ve been in Korea for nearly three years now, and your body quickly got acclimated to the different time zone.
You keep your unrequited love anguish to yourself.
“Mmhmm,” Kayla hums. She throws open the dressing room door, sporting a pale yellow spaghetti strap dress.
“Yep. And no on the dress. That color does you no justice whatsoever.” Waving her back into the room, you glance at your phone, not missing the huff she lets out.
“Oh, come on, Y/n! Give me something. I’ll accept mere crumbs even! You don’t have to tell me how big his dick is or anything. Just tell me he’s at least making you cum more than once!” Her loud tone echoes off her dressing room walls and catches the attention of an older woman walking by. She gives you a dirty look which you return with just as much malice, and she picks up the pace and leaves the area.
“Keep it down, okay? But, yes, he does.” Or rather you wish, but again, this is something you think and not vocalize.
“Thank you. If you told me he wasn’t doing it for you, I would’ve lost it. Remember that guy you tried to hook up with at that one party who couldn’t even stay hard and-”
“Anyways, any more questions?!” you interrupt, not wanting to revisit that chapter of your life.
“Yes,” Kayla starts as she steps out to showcase the next dress: a flowy black, strapless number. “Tell me more about him! I know the bare minimum from you talking about him when you were just friends, and I know last night you told everyone how you got together, but what’s he like? What do you like about him so much?”
“First of all, put that dress in the maybe pile. I know you have one more, but this is a strong contender.” You wait for your sister to disappear back into the dressing room and sit back in your chair. “What do I like about him? Well, he has an amazing sense of humor. He’s one of the funniest people I know, other than Seokjin, who you’ve also virtually met, but Jungkook always knows how to make me laugh no matter what. Last year, in our public speaking course, he made this joke while this girl was presenting, and I laughed so hard we got kicked out of class, but I was still laughing in the hall, so much that I got lightheaded and fainted.” You chuckle at the memory and remember waking up in Jungkook’s arms while he ran for his life to the infirmary with you.
“He’s also extremely supportive. I think it’s because he’s so hardworking and passionate about what he loves himself, which is also admirable. Still, because of that, he’ll back you on anything that he knows you care about. The number of times he’s let me ramble to him about Animal Crossing, even though he doesn’t play, is truly a blessing. He’s also crazy considerate and will literally give his all for people he loves. Oh, and the way he remembers things that I’ve mentioned to him maybe one time a year ago is beyond sweet.
“Also, did you know he can sing? The boy has the voice of a literal angel. Oh! And did I tell you he wrote me a short song for my birthday last year? I sobbed like a fucking baby. He kept saying it wasn’t much because it was only a chorus and a verse, but he’s also weirdly modest for someone who’s so perfect at everything, which he is, and he knows it but he isn’t a cocky asshole about it, you know?”
You didn’t realize you’d gone on a tangent until your sister’s knowing smile is staring straight at you. When had she even come out in a new dress?
“So, what you’re saying is, you're so utterly in love with Jungkook?” She chuckles, admiring herself in the nearest mirror.
“I-fuck, I love him so much.” Your friends know how you feel about Jungkook, but being able to say it all to someone else makes you feel lighter somehow. You let out a long sigh of relief at finally being able to say out loud the reasons you’re in love with your best friend.
“Well, I’m glad you’re in love and that you’re happy. Now, yes or no to the dress?” She gestures to the knee-length, red wrap dress she’s currently wearing, and you flash her a thumbs up, genuinely loving this dress the most. “Perfect! Let me go buy this, then we can get lunch, and you can listen to me complain about my lack of any sort of love life!” Kayla smirks at you before disappearing to change back into her clothes.
Your mind immediately goes back to Jungkook and stays on him through the rest of the day. Even when you’re on the way back home, he’s all that fills your mind. When you see him standing outside next to your brother as he works on his car, handing him tools as they laugh about something, your heart swells even more than you think it can.
Maybe, just maybe, you’d tell him how you feel soon. The brilliant smile he gives you when you get out of the car and walk over to him has you hoping that you’d get a similar one if you ever confess your feelings.
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That night is spent similar to the one before. Your family arrives soon after you and your sister get back, and you help your mom cook dinner again. She even has Jungkook help, which he makes no fuss about as he chops and preps what she directs him to.
It’s after dinner, while you’re all crammed in the living room, again barely watching a movie, that the doorbell rings.
“Got it!” your brother calls as he hops up from his spot on the floor. Curious as to who it is, you watch from across the room as he opens the door and breaks into a smile. “Hey, man! Long time no see!” Ray’s outburst has everyone turning to look, and your heart nearly stops beating as Ray tugs your ex-boyfriend into the house.
“Hey, Namjoon is here!” Ray announces as he gives the room a wave. Your mom, sister, and cousin Nikki are up next, rushing over to hug Namjoon, followed by a few of your cousins that know him pretty well too.
Your mom leads Namjoon over to everyone else and introduces him as a refresher. When his eyes land on yours, your skin heats up under his gaze, and you want more than anything to bolt out of the room.
“And this is Y/n’s boyfriend, Jungkook. Jungkook, Namjoon’s family, has been our next-door neighbors since they were both babies. He and Y/n were attached at the hip the entire time they were growing up, and they even dated in high school.” She gives Namjoon a fond look as she continues, this time directing her comments at him and ignoring the way you choke on your drink at her words. “Jungkook and Y/n met while she’s been away at school. He’s Korean too,” your mom supplies as both men study one another. Namjoon makes a move to shake Jungkook’s hand, but the younger man doesn’t reciprocate and simply gives him a half-hearted wave.
There’s a beat of silence from the adults in the room as an uncomfortable aura takes over. Wanting out of the situation, you shoot up from the couch and beeline for the kitchen without another word. Behind you, the conversation slowly picks back up, and you do your best to tune it out.
It’s been nearly four years since you’ve seen Namjoon, and the sight of him has you in a tailspin. The last time the two of you spoke was when he broke up with you over Skype while he was away at college on the West Coast and you were about to graduate high school.
Namjoon always finished at the top of his classes the entire time you’ve known him, so the fact that he graduated early, a year before you, wasn’t surprising. It put a strain on your relationship with him, though, as long-distance wasn’t easy. The two of you had been dating since your freshman year of high school, and he was your first everything. Your first love, your first actual date, and the first person you’d ever slept with. Both his parents and your mom just knew that you’d get married and live happily ever after.
You were under the impression that it would be the case, too, until he threw a wrench in the plans you were building together. You were going to leave the East Coast and move to California to go to a nearby school so that you could be together once more, but all it took was a video call, a few months before your high school graduation, for him to tell you that he’s realized how hard medical school is. He couldn’t balance a relationship on top of it and suggested you not come and just apply to wherever you want to go.
The heartbreak of your first love hurt just as much as most songs say it does. You were a mess after the breakup, shutting yourself off from friends and losing interest in doing anything other than sitting in your room and lamenting over what you and Namjoon were. He, of course, had given you the classic “let’s be friends,” but aside from Instagram and being friends with his parents on Facebook, you more or less stopped talking to and about Kim Namjoon.
If people asked, you told them that you went to school in South Korea because you wanted a change—a fresh start—which was true, but you really wanted to get away and escape to a place where people didn’t know you as Namjoon’s ex-girlfriend, but as your own person.
You’ve grown and healed from your heartbreak and have gotten over it. For the most part, at least, because upon seeing him just now, just as tall, tan, and gorgeous as he’s always been, leaves you feeling a flurry of different things.
“Hey,” Jungkook’s sudden voice from behind you has you nearly jumping out of your skin at the kitchen sink. You’d gotten so lost in your memories that you didn’t realize you were standing motionless for as long as you have been.
“Hey! Sorry, I got distracted.”
“Are you okay? You seem off.” He looks concerned as he studies your face, making you more nervous.
“I’m okay. I’m just tired. I’m going to go shower and go to bed.”
Jungkook nods, “I’ll come with you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do-” Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to protest as he heads back towards the living room.
“Y/n and I are gonna call it a night,” he calls out to your family. You wave off various shouts of protest, telling everyone you’ll see them tomorrow.
Ignoring the almond-shaped brown eyes that you feel watching your every move, you walk as quickly as your legs will take you up the stairs and into your room. Jungkook follows behind, not saying anything as you grab your pajamas from your suitcase and declare that you’re off to take a shower. You needed to be alone as soon as possible to arrange your frantic thoughts.
Jungkook nods and watches you go, saying he’ll shower after you. As soon as he hears the water running, he digs his phone from his pocket and calls Seokjin.
“Hello?” he answers on the 3rd ring.
“Did you know her ex would be here?”
“Jungkook? What are you talking about?”
“Y/n’s ex-boyfriend is here. He’s a family friend, and they dated all through high school, and now he’s here, and he’ll be at the wedding.”
“Oh wow. Are you worried about him? Like, do you think he’ll try and get back together with her or something?”
“Fuck, I don’t know! He came in, and he said hi to everyone, but he looked straight at her. Even when he said hi to me he was only looking at her.”
“And Y/n? How’d she react?”
Jungkook frowns, recalling how scared you looked when you saw Namjoon. “Bad. She bolted out of the room, and then we came upstairs to get ready for bed.”
“Hmm,” Seokjin hums, “sounds like she isn’t too thrilled to see him. That could be a good sign. If she isn’t looking forward to seeing him, then it doesn’t sound like you have too much to worry about.”
“I guess,” the younger man mumbles, “but I don’t trust him. I can’t let him be alone with her.” Jungkook paces as he talks, doing his best not to yell his frustrations too loudly the more he thinks about Namjoon and the possibility of him trying to win you back.
“Well, if you would just tell her you’re in love with her, then this wouldn’t be an issue, now would it?” Seokjin says, sounding exasperated. To be fair, he has reason to. All of their friends know how in love Jungkook is with you, but being his roommate, Seokjin has had to hear it the most.
“Hyung...”
“Yeah, yeah. She’ll never love you back and all that shit. All I know is that Jimin, Tae, Sana, and I have a bet going on whether or not you two will get together during this trip. Don’t make me lose money. I have a shopping list I need to go through.”
Jungkook sucks his teeth in response. “Alright, I’m hanging up,” Seokjin calls out a goodbye as Jungkook ends the call. He tosses his phone aside and flops onto the bed.
When he agreed to be your fake boyfriend for this trip, he initially didn’t want to, not being confident in himself that he wouldn’t blow his cover, but then he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad.
He was wrong.
Seeing you so comfortable and happy with your family these last two days only makes him ache for you even more. The glow that you have just from talking to your sister or playing with your cousins is one he’s never seen before, and seeing you genuinely happy, quickly becomes his favorite sight. The way your eyes sparkle and the musical laughter that comes out of your mouth only serves to make Jungkook fall harder and faster.
Knowing there’s someone else here that you have a history with makes him more anxious than he’s ever been. Back at school, Jungkook only had to fend off a few guys a handful of times. Most people on campus saw how you and Jungkook were practically inseparable, which tended to ward away potential suitors. This is different. This is someone who hasn’t seen you and Jungkook together, and most likely won’t be intimidated by your relationship. This guy knows you in a different way than Jungkook does—has experienced being with you in a different way than Jungkook.
This fucking sucks. He’s going to have to do a better job of making it clear that you’re together, even if you aren’t together, together.
At some point, he gets lost in his thoughts because he doesn’t even hear you come into the room.
“Jungkook?” He jumps at your voice and sits up so fast that he gets a little dizzy. “You okay?”
As his eyes focus, he watches you toss your clothes from the day into the hamper by your door. His eyes immediately lock onto your notably short sleep shorts, admiring how soft your legs look.
He gulps when you bend over to dig through your suitcase, and the tiniest bit of your asscheeks peek out from said shorts.
“I’m going to go shower now!” He almost yells as he trips over his own feet to leave the room. You watch him go, not thinking much of it since you’ve been wrapped up in your head since you got into the shower.
Once you’re ready for bed, you climb under the sheets before Jungkook and check your phone to see you’ve missed a few text messages from your sister.
Kayla: Hey, you ok? I saw your face when Namjoon walked in
Of course, if anyone is going to notice your reaction, it’s your sister.
Y/n: Idk. I didn’t think I’d just see him suddenly, you know?
She replies almost instantly.
Kayla: I know. I didn’t even know Nikki invited him. He told everyone he initially wasn’t going to be here until tomorrow but he wanted to come earlier to surprise his parents apparently
Y/n: Well I wish he hadn’t come at all. Now my head’s all fucked up
Kayla: Just focus on Jungkook. I know exes can be messy but remember your boyfriend
You let out a cynical laugh and barely even flinch when your phone falls on your face. It would be much easier to remember your boyfriend if you actually had one.
Surprisingly, you fall asleep soon after that text exchange, waking back up when Jungkook gets into bed. You peek an eye open and watch as he ruffles his towel-dried hair and turns off the lamp on the nightstand before lying down. He smells like his favorite soap that he packed for the trip, and your earlier stress melts away as you take in the familiar scent.
Feeling more at ease, you begin to drift off again until the feeling of Jungkook shifting and tossing an arm around your waist has you jolting. His breathing is even, and he makes no other movements or sounds. Did he fall asleep that fast? You know he can fall asleep quicker than anyone in your friend group, but it was barely ten minutes since he laid down.
Whether or not he’s asleep, you decide not to question it. You’d give more than anything to have Jungkook hold you the way he is right now, so you close your eyes and drift off back to sleep, enjoying the weight of his arm on your body.
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Waking up with Jungkook’s arms still securely around you is in no way the worst way to be. You stay in this position as long as you can, but eventually, he pulls himself away and drowsily stumbles out of the room. As you’re listening to him shuffle down the hall and into the bathroom, Ray pops his head into the room.
“Hey, morning. You and Jungkook should get ready soon. Mom invited the Kims over for breakfast, and they should be over in an hour or so.” He flashes you a sympathetic look at the groan that comes out. “I know, I’m sorry. I tried to nicely hint that she shouldn’t, but you know how mom gets.”
“Yeah, believe me, I know.” You grumble from under the blanket you pulled over your head.
“Kayla and I will do our best to deflect any awkward questions or topics that come up.”
“Y’all are the best.”
“I know!” your brother calls, already halfway down the hall.
Jungkook comes back from the bathroom soon after, toothbrush in hand. His hair is still ruffled from sleep, and his eyes still look a little droopy. The way your heart races at the sight of him in the morning is all you need to know about your still very relevant crush on him.
When you tell him about the company you’re having over, you see a visible frown etch itself onto his face. He nods but doesn’t say anything and instead moves to his suitcase to get his clothes.
The two of you get ready for the day in silence, though you barely make note as to why Jungkook may be silent, as all you can think about is being so close to Namjoon again and talking to him after literally years.
As fate would have it, you’re the one that has to answer the door for Namjoon and his parents when they show up. With your mom monitoring the hot stove, your brother at the store for more juice, and Kayla in the bathroom, that just leaves you while Jungkook sets the table.
“Y/n! Oh my goodness, look at you!” Namjoon’s mom sweeps you up into her arms first, cooing in your ear about how good it is to see you after so long.
“It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Kim.” You can’t help but smile back at her. Your feelings and romantic history with Namjoon aside, his parents, his mom especially, have always been nothing but sweet and supportive, and you are genuinely happy to see them again.
When she finally lets you go, Mr. Kim pulls you into a much quicker, but still affectionate hug. Namjoon attempts to reach for you next, but you expertly evade his incoming embrace, and once his parents slip their shoes off, you follow them to the kitchen where your mom is calling out a greeting.
You take the empty seat between Jungkook and Kayla, fixing your attention on the food in front of you as everyone takes their seats. Ray and your mom are on either end of the table while the Kims sit across from you. Predictably, Namjoon sits between his parents so that he’s directly in front of you.
As waffles and scrambled eggs are passed around, your mom asks the Kims about their most recent vacation to Malta that they just returned from. During a story about Mrs. Kim and a stray cat outside of their hotel, you feel a socked foot give your calf a tap. Glancing up, your eyes meet Namjoon’s, and he smiles at you, small enough that no one notices, but enough that you see the way his dimples pop into his cheeks.
He gets a frown in response from you, but you do find yourself biting your lip to stop any traces of a smile. He can’t just waltz in here, looking as handsome as he always has, and expect you to just play nice with him. Seeing how your last real conversation was him breaking up with you, you couldn’t just pick up as best friend’s after he broke your heart.
“Y/n?” You look up suddenly and make eye contact with Mrs. Kim, who’s looking at you expectantly.
“I’m sorry?”
“I asked how you and Jungkook met.”
“Oh. I met him through our mutual friend Jimin. Jungkook transferred to our college halfway through his first year and shared a class with Jimin, who I had become friends with pretty much on the first day of school.”
“Aw, how sweet. Did you begin dating right away?” She prods. Everyone else had some form of interest in hearing your story, including Namjoon, who was staring at you, almost unblinking.
“Uh, no. We only started dating three months ago. We were friends until then.”
“How cute! Namjoon’s father and I were friends before we began dating too. Now look at us,” she sighs wistfully, giving her husband a loving look over Namjoon’s head which he returns.
“Well, you know, only about 28% of college students end up marrying their significant other after graduation.” Namjoon shrugs focused on cutting into his pancakes. “Not everyone is so lucky.”
“Oh, stop it, Joon!” His mom chastises with a smack on his arm.
“I’m just being realistic, I mean when you think about it-”
“Hey, mom! Why don’t you tell the Kims about the caterer for the wedding?” Kayla cut in, stopping Namjoon in his tracks and allowing your mom to chime in happily.
You whisper a thank you under your breath to your sister, who nods in return. When your eyes meet Namjoon’s across the table, he’s wearing an unreadable expression and continues to do so for the remainder of the morning.
Throughout breakfast, very few questions about you and your relationship with Jungkook are asked. Any that do come up, Kayla and Ray do their best to ward them off, including any other comments Namjoon could make. You barely remember any of the stories that get swapped due to how preoccupied your thoughts are.
At the end of breakfast, you quickly volunteer to clean up and carry as many plates as your hands can take to the kitchen.
You’re in the middle of rinsing them and loading the dishwasher when Namjoon comes in, startling you.
“Sorry. Came to bring you the rest of the dishes.” You wordlessly take the plates and cups as he hands them to you, trying to do your best and ignore the palpable feeling in the room. Namjoon’s presence unnerves you as you finish and when you turn around after starting the dishwasher, he’s still there leaning against the counter.
“Um, did you need something?” The kitchen feels so much smaller with how close he’s standing to you.
“Y/n, I think we should talk.”
“About what?”
“About the fact that we haven’t spoken to each other in so long.”
You go from nervous to annoyed in no time at his words. “And whose fault is that? You’re the one who dumped me, remember?”
“Yeah, and I shouldn’t have done that, but we agreed we’d stay friends.”
“We did, but it’s kind of hard to do that, when the man you loved rips your heart out, and just the idea of him causes you pain.” You hate the way your voice cracks at the end of your sentence. The last thing you want is to cry in front of him over your past relationship.
“Y/n, I’m truly, really sorry. But you weren’t the only one who was hurt. It wasn’t exactly easy to just end things the way I did.”
“Well, you could’ve fooled me. You dumped me in less than five minutes!” Tears are now brimming in your eyes, and you know he sees it.
“Y/n, please.” He reaches for your arm, and you snatch it away.
“I don’t need you to comfort me.”
“Yeah, your little boyfriend will do that for you, huh?” The attitude in his voice only serves to make you angrier.
“You know what? You have no right to be mad that I’m with someone right now, and I don’t need to stand here and talk to you.” Before you can leave, Namjoon’s hand wraps around your wrist to keep you.
“Wait, I-”
“Y/n?” Jungkook appears in the doorway, eyes locked to Namjoon touching you. “You okay?”
“Yes, but I’m going upstairs to lay down. I’m still tired.” Namjoon doesn’t put up a fight when you yank out of his grasp again and stomp out of the room. You say your goodbyes to the Kims, telling them that you don’t feel well, and they immediately fuss over you, saying they’ll bring you soup later and to get some rest.
After your mom says she’ll bring you some ginger ale soon, you’re ascending the stairs with Jungkook trailing behind, who commented that he’d make sure you lay down and rest.
You barely make it into the room before the tears that you’ve been holding back since you saw Namjoon spill. Jungkook closes the bedroom door and crosses the room instantly to scoop you into his arms.
He stands there holding you, letting you cry on his shirt for as long as you need. The sound of your muffled cries in the fabric of his shirt is all that’s heard. Once you’re only sniffling and wiping your tears with your hands, Jungkook leads you to the bed to sit down with you. He waits until the room is completely silent before he asks anything.
“So, are you going to tell me about him?” You already know that the ‘him’ he’s referring to is Namjoon. You’ve admittedly never told your friends about him because you really just wanted to forget. It was something you hoped you’d never have to bring up if you could help it. In retrospect, this was a foolish thing to think, and that was obvious now.
You let out a loud sigh and finally decide to be honest.
“Like my mom said yesterday, we’ve been friends since we were single-digit aged. We grew up together, and in my freshman year of high school, he asked me out, and I said yes. We dated all through high school until the year that I was graduating. He graduated a year before me because he’s basically a genius and went to Stanford for medical school because he didn’t want to stay on the East Coast.
“The plan was for me to follow him to California and go to school near him, but he decided to break up with me over Skype when I was months away from graduating. He said medical school was hard enough, and he couldn’t handle maintaining a relationship at the same time. He claimed he wanted to do it earlier than when he did, but he couldn’t talk himself into doing it until it was last minute. From there, we just stopped talking all the time except the occasional holiday or birthday text, and then we stopped talking altogether, and I ran away to South Korea, and here we are.”
Jungkook pulls you into another hug halfway through your story because you started to cry again. He hates seeing you like this; sad, defeated, and still so clearly in pain. Listening to you cry is breaking his heart alone, and he wants more than anything to make it go away. He doesn’t know how to help you, but if it starts with holding you as tight as he can, he will.
The rest of the morning and afternoon is spent with you and Jungkook lying in bed, talking more than you have since you’ve been friends. You tell him more about your family and who you were when you grew up in this house. You talk about him and growing up in Busan, and he says how badly he wants to take you to his hometown (which you will be doing during the next break, according to him).
At some point, your mom comes to check on the two of you and tells you dinner is ready, but she lets you eat dinner in your room, sensing you and Jungkook are having time to yourselves. When you go to bed that night, Jungkook lies closer to you and neither of you mind very much.
The day may have started as something you were dreading, but now the only thing you feel is the immense love you have for Jungkook.
Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook feels the same way as he lays behind you, relishing this time with you and pretending that you feel the same as he does.
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The rest of the week goes by in a blur after that. While you’re not directly in the wedding party, you love your cousin, so you’re willing to help your mom and aunts prepare for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself. You spend the week making phone calls to the photographer and the videographer and making sure the cake will be ready for pick up the morning of. Jungkook stays busy too, helping your brother and a few of your cousins make sure all of the tables and chairs are probably set up in the backyard.
Even though you’re on the trip together, you and Jungkook barely get to socialize as much as you’d like after that day spent in your room, given how quickly the days pass and how busy you find yourselves. Luckily, this also means that you don’t have to see much of Namjoon, but that doesn’t stop him from texting you nearly every day.
At first, he apologized for making you feel uncomfortable at breakfast the other morning. Then he began to ask questions about what you’re doing during the day, if you’ve seen any good movies lately, what your favorite classes are, and asking you to share some songs you’ve been listening to recently. The conversation stays very surface level, and it's clear he’s trying to re-establish some semblance of a relationship, but you’re not sure how you feel about it. Just last week, you had given Namjoon no thoughts, but now you’re thinking about him more than you have in years.
By the time the rehearsal dinner rolls around, you feel both emotionally and physically exhausted and can’t wait for tomorrow, when the wedding will finally be here. You’ll be glad to see your cousin get married to the love of her life, but between your current feelings for Jungkook and your dormant feelings for Namjoon, you feel as though you’ve been through hell and back.
The backyard is set up in anticipation for tomorrow, with a few round tables positioned on either side of the yard and a clear path in between that leads to the large tree in your yard where the ceremony itself would take place.
You’re sitting at the same table as your mom, grandma, siblings, and Jungkook. Namjoon and his parents are at the table directly behind you, close enough that Namjoon simply needs to turn in his chair to talk face-to-face with you. During dinner, conversation among everyone is light, and you even put up with Namjoon asking you questions about school and some of your other friends back in Korea. Admittedly, you’ve had a few glasses of champagne to deal with the emotions swirling in your mind, and they’re catching up with you the more the night goes on.
While various family members offer toasts to your cousin, you’ve had at least three more drinks, and you’re feeling a heavy buzz settle over you. At some point, Namjoon turns his chair all the way around and is reminiscing about your high school days with you. It feels nice to talk to him freely once again and share jokes and stories that only the two of you know. Of course, you do have alcohol swimming through your veins, so you can’t say it’s just because you’re finally able to be completely comfortable with him again.
When your aunt brings out cupcakes for dessert, you’re on what you know should be your last glass of champagne. You’re so wrapped in laughing at everything Namjoon says and letting him occupy your attention, that you don’t even notice the way Jungkook is frowning from next to you.
He himself has been throwing back drink after drink since Namjoon first decided to strike up a conversation with you. He noticed that you started drinking as soon as you all sat down at the table at the start of dinner tonight and lost count of how many he saw you down.
Instead of stopping you as he should’ve, he wallowed in silent self-pity next to you while Namjoon got closer and closer to you and did his damndest to ice Jungkook out of the conversation, even though you attempted to include him when you could.
Jungkook isn’t sure how many drinks he had, but he was sober enough to notate every time Namjoon’s hand brushed against your knee or grazed your exposed shoulders. When Jungkook saw you come out of your bedroom in the form-fitting sundress that hugged your body, he could barely keep his eyes off you, but now, knowing another man other than him was enjoying seeing so much of your shape, it made him want to shield you and hide you away back inside the house.
You, on the other hand, think nothing of the subtle touches from Namjoon. It seems almost natural when his hand rests on your thigh or your hand.
“So,” Namjoon says, loud enough for Jungkook to hear from beside you. “How long have you been with him again?” He jerks his head in Jungkook’s direction, and it takes a few seconds for your mind to catch up.
“Nearly four months?” Your response comes out as more of a question than a definitive answer.
“Yeah,” Jungkook backs you up, listening intently.
“That’s a pretty young relationship. That would explain why you don’t seem very couple-y.”
“What?” Jungkook hisses, sitting up straighter in his chair and ignoring how the bistro lights above him spin.
“I’m just saying, the handful of times I’ve seen you two interact, you don’t hold hands or hug or anything. It’s a little weird.” Namjoon shrugs.
“Maybe we don’t like PDA,” Jungkook supplies through gritted teeth. You nod in agreement.
“Really? That’s funny. When Y/n and I were together, she was all about PDA.” Your former boyfriend sends you a wink that has heat creeping up the back of your neck.
“Joon, we were teenagers.” Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s frowning deeper than you think you’ve ever seen him.
“Yeah, but still. You could barely keep your hands off me, not that I’m complaining. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.” Your eyes are transfixed on his plush lips as he speaks, and he must know because you watch as his tongue swipes slowly across his bottom lip.
Jungkook scoffs and takes a deep breath before grabbing your shoulders and turns you towards him from beside you.
“Jungkoo—” Your sentence is cut off by Jungkook’s lips smashing against yours.
Your eyes slip shut as you very quickly give into the kiss. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for since you first came to terms with the fact that you were head over heels in love with your best friend.
As if the kiss is written into a cheesy romantic comedy, everyone around you melts away. The voices of your family become dull and nondescript as the lights above your head become fuzzy. You know this isn’t the alcohol making you feel like this; this is what it feels like to kiss the man you’ve been aching for all this time. Your eyes start to mist at some point, but that’s also when he pulls away.
You gasp for breath, eyes still glazed over and fixed on Jungkook. His cheeks are flush, and he’s staring right back at you.
Namjoon lets out a scoff and excuses himself. Jungkook breaks your gaze to watch the older man go, a chuckle leaving his lips.
“Serves him right,” he murmurs.
Logically, you know Jungkook only kissed you the way he did to prove Namjoon wrong. It was to make your fake relationship appear genuine, and it seems to have worked, but all you can think about is his lips.
It’s why you lean forward again, catching him off guard with another kiss, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his large hands grasp your hips, drawing you closer to him. Your own hands are reaching up, intending to grip his brunette locks, but before you can get there, Kayla’s voice has you snap out of it.
“Ay, y’all are drunk, which I get, but take this upstairs, please. There are children, you know!” Sheepishly, you meet her eyes, along with the looks from a few other family members at neighboring tables.
“Sorry,” you and Jungkook say together, turning back to the table, both of you down the glasses of water next to your empty dessert plates.
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Your visiting family members only stay for an hour or so longer, calling it an early night to get as well-rested as they can for the big morning. You and Jungkook offer to help clean up, but your mom makes your brother and sister take you both upstairs, declaring you both too drunk to be useful.
“We helped you upstairs, but we’re not helping with anything else. Figure it out yourselves.” Kayla says as she dumps you onto your bed. She and Ray both leave you bottles of water before leaving you alone. You and Jungkook are lying next to each other, still fully clothed with only the lamp on your side of the bed turned on.
You’re not as drunk as you were earlier, thanks to the copious amount of water you drank throughout the remainder of the night, but you’re still tingly and can feel a headache trying to creep in. As much as you’d like to get up and change into your pajamas, the desire to lay here and dream about Jungkook’s lips on yours is much stronger.
“Can I tell you something?” Jungkook speaks, making you jump at the sound of his voice.
“Huh? Yeah.”
He doesn’t answer immediately. A few seconds of silence go by before he speaks.
“I liked kissing you.”
“What?” You sit up too fast and instantly regret it, but you’re more focused on wrapping your mind around what you just heard.
“Sorry, was that weird? Did I just make this weird?” Jungkook jolts up too, visibly trying to steady himself.
“No! I, uh, I liked kissing you too.” His espresso-colored eyes crinkle in the corners when he gives you a genuine smile that has his front teeth poking out. The smile is gone as quickly as it appears, his face scrunching in concentration as he zeroes in on your lips.
He’s moving slow, but you know he’s coming towards you, his lips approaching yours again, and you make no move to stop him.
This time the kiss starts fast as he pulls your body close to his. Making up for the missed chance you didn’t get outside, you finally get a good handful of his hair between your fingers, and he groans in response. The gruff sound is felt in the pit of your stomach, shooting straight from there to your core.
You may not be sober, but there is still a voice in the back of your mind screaming at you, telling you that you’re kissing your best friend. Your best friend is running his warm hands over your shoulders and down to the front of your dress. Your best friend’s fingers are scrunching the fabric of your dress until it’s pulled high enough to expose the skin of your thighs.
“J-Jungkook,” you manage to say as his lips move to your neck. Your thoughts waver slightly at the sensation, nearly forgetting what you want to say.
“Hmm?” he questions, teeth now nibbling on the spot he was kissing.
“You’re drunk. Are you—do you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I do. I want you so bad.” Jungkook pulls back, meeting your eyes. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes,” you breathe out.
“Good.” Jungkook helps you stand then, pulling your dress up and completely off of your body, tossing the fabric to the side of the room. His nimble fingers reach around you to unhook your bra, and that’s next to fall aside. You had forgone panties tonight, thinking nothing of it with the dress being so long, so you get to watch as his pupils dilate as they take in your completely naked body.
Feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny, you move you cover yourself, but he reaches out to stop you.
“Don’t hide from me.”
You answer him by leaning forward and kissing him, catching him off guard, and he trips, falling backward onto the bed. This new position doesn’t stop you from crashing your mouths together, savoring the taste of him again. His hands find your breasts, cupping them roughly and pulling on your nipples, which has you dry humping his muscular thighs.
Jungkook doesn’t stay on his back for long and quickly flips you over, his frame hovering over you. Your eyes follow his every move as he unbuttons his shirt, devouring the sight of him. His smooth skin, his built torso, and his tattoos that creep up his arm to his shoulder all have you clenching your thighs.
“Like what you see?” he teases, hands playing with his belt buckle.
“Jungkook, please take the rest of your clothes off.” Jungkook hesitates at your begging tone, only for a second, but recovers soon after and does as you ask. He leaves your body long enough to pull his slacks and boxers down, and you let out an actual whimper at how breathtaking he looks completely bare. His hard cock stands proud, just waiting to fill you up.
“Shh,” he motions behind him to your bedroom door as he repositions himself lower, on his belly between your thighs. “Your family’s outside. You have to be quiet.”
“Sorry, I-oh shit,” Jungkook is only between your thighs for what feels like a millisecond before his wonderful lips latch onto your clit, sucking hard enough to have your back bowing off of the bed.
You’re plenty wet enough for him to slide a finger into you, pumping it in time with his mouth as it moves against you. Your fingers tangle in his hair again as you hold him in place, bucking your hips up softly into his mouth. Soft slurping sounds fill the room as Jungkook eats you out better than anyone ever has. Not that you’ve had too many other partners, but the urgency as to which he moves and the skilled way his second finger slips in and crooks at just the right angle automatically put him at the top of the list.
Jungkook’s fingers move at a faster pace as he works you open, your breath coming out in frantic exhales as you get embarrassingly closer to an orgasm. Both hands find his head, fingers combing through the strands before gripping tight. Jungkook lets out a moan against you, the sound sending tremors through your body, and that’s all you need before you begin to unravel.
“Jungkook, I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” you pant out. The hand that isn’t knuckles deep in you comes up to cover your mouth just in time for you to let out a high-pitched moan. Your body shakes as you cum, squeezing your thighs around Jungkook’s head, and he stays exactly where he is.
You’re still shaking when he pulls his face away and obscenely licks his lips in front of you.
“That was—I mean—you—oh my fuck.” you babble out, mind still reeling from the feeling of his lips.
“If you thought that was good, I’ve got something else for you.” Jungkook motions to his cock, hard and red, and you open your legs impossibly wider. He scooches himself up, lining up with your wet lips. “Oh, I don’t have a condom if you—”
“Fuck a condom, I need you in me now, Jungkook.” His eyes widen momentarily at the commanding tone in your voice, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he enters you in one slow motion, the two of you moaning in unison once he’s buried to the hilt.
“Holy shit, Y/n. You feel so fucking good.” He closes his eyes, taking a few deep breaths at the sensation of you. He knew you’d feel amazing if the day ever came to be with you like this, but he didn’t expect to be so eager to burst at the first feeling of your silken walls around him.
“Please move. Please,” you beg. Jungkook counts to three in his head before beginning to rock his hips; the shallow motion alone has you panting. “Faster.” you plead through gritted teeth as you attempt to move your hips quicker.
As much as he doesn’t want to cum quickly, your desperation spurs him on, firmly grasping your hips and sitting up for better leverage. His eyes drink in the sight of you with your flushed, damp skin and needy pout. Your bottom lip is between your lips, and your hands desperately grab for any part of him that you can reach. This alone is all Jungkook needs to start thrusting into you faster; quick nut be damned.
You do your best not to make too much noise, but the way that Jungkook’s cock is stretching you out makes it difficult. You’re aware of how the bed begins to shake with the force of his thrusts, but you don’t care. He leans down while his hips are working to attach his lips to your neck, nibbling and biting at the skin which has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.
“So good, so good,” Jungkook chants into your moist skin, hands clutching your soft thighs.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” you whine. Your hands move up to clutch his shoulders, your nails digging into the thick skin there, but he doesn’t feel it. All Jungkook feels is you, and all Jungkook thinks about is you.
“Y/n,  I’m going to cum. I can’t hold it.” He’s panting as his thrusts become frantic, his hand fumbling to find your clit between your sweaty bodies.
The way in which you squeal lets him know he’s found the hard bud as he begins rubbing in rough circles. Your breathing becomes more erratic as you feel tears prick the back of your eyes at the pleasure.
“M-me too. I’m cumming. Jungkook!” Your body shakes violently as your second orgasm hits you and your mouth opens in a silent scream. Your cunt squeezing him impossibly tighter is what causes Jungkook to unravel as he cums right after you, his hot seed filling you, quickly dripping out around him.
The only sound in the room for a few seconds is of the two of you breathing heavily. Jungkook’s cock begins to soften, so he slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the sensation. Your thighs are sticky with cum, and the rest of your body is covered in sweat, but be it the alcohol or the post-orgasm bliss, you don’t care at all. You feel better than you have this entire trip, and when you glance over at Jungkook, he’s on his back, a goofy smile on his face.
“Wow,” you say to him, and he looks over to meet your eyes.
“Yeah. Wow,” he breathes, echoing your sentiments.
You giggle, which is quickly followed by a yawn, the alcohol still swirling in your veins and making you feel both giddy and spent. Seeing your exhaustion, Jungkook reaches over the side of the bed and hands you his button-up shirt to clean up with.
You wipe yourself with as much energy as you can muster before flopping onto your side, facing Jungkook. He turns as well, the two of you facing each other with drunken smiles. Just as your eyes close, you feel Jungkook’s lips place a quick kiss on the tip of your nose, and that familiar tug on your heart that he causes is back and is all you think about as you fall asleep, Jungkook following immediately after.
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“Hello! Get your asses up, lovebirds!” Kayla’s voice jolts you out of your sleep. When you sit up, feeling groggy from the night before, you see your sister’s head poking in your bedroom.
“What?” You reach for your phone on the side table to glance at the time. “Oh fuck!” The wedding starts in three hours, and you’re not ready in the slightest.
“Yep. You’re lucky Nikki and Diana are late too! Their car got a flat, so they’re waiting on AAA.  Get moving!” When she leaves the room, Jungkook stirs next to you. When he moves to stretch his arms above his head, the quilt covering him shifts down, and the sight of his bare chest reminds you very quickly of the night before.
You fucked Jungkook.
You and your best friend that you are in love with got drunk and had sex.
“What time is it?” Jungkook grumbles, fingers ruffling his messy hair. You’re reminded of just how soft the strands felt in your hand as he ate you out.
“We’re late. We need to get ready now.” You say in a rush as you climb out of bed. The cool air of your bedroom serves as a reminder that you’re completely naked. You catch Jungkook’s eyes as he turns towards you and watch how the brown orbs widen as he scans your body in the daylight.
Grabbing your pillow, you cover yourself and shuffle backward to your suitcase. “I’m going to go shower in my mom’s room. You can take the main shower.” Jungkook clamors out of bed with his pillow covering his crotch.
“Y-yeah, okay.” When he’s turned to his suitcase, you do the same, pillow now covering your ass while you search for your robe. Once it’s on and cinched tight, you grab your underwear and dart out of the bedroom without another word.
Your mom is in her room when you enter, coming out of her closet with the dress she’ll be wearing.
“Hey, morning, baby. You’re late!”
“I know. I’m showering in your bathroom.”
Your mom hums in response but thankfully doesn’t try to continue a conversation as she continues getting ready. You already know the rest of the day will be difficult, as you keep replaying last night with Jungkook. Still, you do your best to remind yourself that today is about your cousin and her special day and not your drunken decisions that could very well lead to the destruction of your friendship.
Luckily, once you’re out of the shower, your sister barges in to start and on hair and makeup together which helps distract you. It’s easy for you to take your mind off last night between her and your other cousins, who arrive shortly after, followed by Nikki and Diana.
On the other side of the house, Jungkook is in a similar situation. He spends his entire shower cursing himself for not being able to keep it in his pants last night. He was drunk, but he still knew what was going on. He knew he was having sex with you and what this could mean for the two of you, but he did it anyway. His biggest fear that he’d somehow fuck up your friendship due to his feelings for you was coming true as far as he’s concerned.
He was thankful that your brother had come to find him when he was out of the shower and dressed to help make sure everything in the backyard is up to par for the wedding. He busies himself, helping to rearrange tables and placing decorations where they should be.
In between saying hello to the rest of your family as they pile into the house and finishing getting ready, he sends a text to the group chat of Seokjin, Taehyung, and Jimin.
Jungkook: In case anyone is wondering, I’m a fucking dumbass
Jimin: Silly Jungkookie, we knew that already
Seokjin: *pretends to be surprised*
Taehyung: What’d you do this time
Jungkook: Y/n and I had sex last night
Jimin: WHAT
Seokjin: WHAT
Taehyung: WHAT
Jungkook: I don’t have a lot of time but long story short we got drunk and fucked last night
Jimin: Wow
Seokjin: You bastards owe me ₩22000!
Taehyung: No! You said you bet they’d get together by the end of the trip. It’s not the end
Seokjin: End of the trip, almost the end, same shit. PAY ME
Jungkook: We’re not together
Jimin: WHAT
Seokjin: WHAT
Taehyung: WHAT
Jungkook: We fucked, fell asleep, now we’re getting ready for the wedding. We didn’t talk about it all. She covered herself and ran out to get ready. I screwed up
Taehyung: Why do you think that? Maybe she was just nervous
Jimin: Yeah I mean it’s a lot you know. Like surprise I fucked my best friend
Jungkook: Idk like I said we were both drunk and horny so it just happened. She’s probably scared that I thought it was something other than a hookup
Seokjin: C’mon JK, do you really think Y/n is like that?
Jungkook: Hyung idk ok. It wasn’t a great post-hookup reaction
Taehyung: Talk to her after the wedding. You can’t just leave it
Jungkook: We’ll see
Jimin: Jungkook! Talk to her!
Jungkook: Gotta go. Everyone is about to go take their seats
Seokjin: Jungkook come on
“Hey.” The sound of your voice on the other side of your bedroom door has Jungkook quickly tucking his phone away. You step into the room when he calls back a hey in response, and Jungkook feels himself sputter. He had seen the dress you’d be wearing before you left school, but seeing it on you is entirely different.
The strapless light pink dress hugs your form better than anything Jungkook has ever seen on you. The fabric looks as soft as he knows your skin is and stops a few inches above your knees, giving him a fantastic view of your legs. Your hair is styled, your makeup is done, and Jungkook wants nothing more than to close the gap between the two of you and take you into his arms. The clear gloss you wear has your lips shining under the lights of your bedroom, and he aches to kiss you again, if even only for a few seconds.
“Ready to head downstairs? They’re starting the ceremony soon.” He nods dumbly back at you and follows you down to the backyard. The two of you greet family members you hadn’t seen earlier on the way and take your spot at the table you were seated at last night.
Jungkook’s eyes narrow in Namjoon’s direction, and he receives a smirk in response from the older man. Jungkook wants to smack it right off of his face. He can’t wait for this day to be over so he can potentially never see Kim Namjoon again if he can help it.
You have similar thoughts as you greet Namjoon and his parents, him giving you a soft smile in return. You make a mental note to have a proper conversation with Namjoon before your trip is over. You need to talk about everything that’s happened this week and decide what’s next for the two of you if anything at all. But for now, you push that away as the signaling of the start of the ceremony begins to play.
Everyone watches as your cousin’s two sisters and three brothers in her wedding party make the short trip from the backdoor to the large tree in your backyard. Diana’s wedding party follows after them, and they all join your uncle, who is ordained and will be conducting the marriage.
When the music switches to “Here Comes the Bride,” all eyes are on your cousin as her step-dad walks her down the aisle, followed by Diana and her dad. Your eyes mist over as you watch your cousin, whom you grew up with as if she was your sister, take her spot in front of her wife-to-be as your uncle begins his speech.
You’re not one to cry at romance and weddings, but something about seeing someone so important to you making such a huge life decision has your already fragile emotions even more sensitive. You wipe away a few tears with your napkin and feel Jungkook’s hand slowly tuck into yours, giving you a squeeze. It catches you off guard, and when you glance over at him, his cheeks have a dark red blush dusting his skin. You squeeze his hand in response and a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
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The reception starts with everyone sharing hugs and tears, then transitions into the party part as the hired bartender begins mixing drinks. The catering team your family hired begins bringing out food, and the DJ (who is another cousin) starts playing a surprisingly well-put-together playlist.
Intending not to have another incident like last night, you only nurse two drinks and spend most of the afternoon dancing with your sister. Even though it’s evident to you that you and Jungkook still have something uncomfortable hanging between the two of you, your family is none the wiser, and your sister makes him dance with all of you anyway.
You end up enjoying your time and all thoughts of the night before, and your general drama is forgotten until you’re going back outside from a quick bathroom break.
Namjoon is in the kitchen leaning against the fridge by the backdoor, and stops you with a hand on your arm before both feet can step outside.
“Hey, Y/n, can I talk to you?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” You hesitate only for a second, eyes glancing outside. Everyone else is preoccupied, so no one pays attention to you backing up into the house.
“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush. I miss you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I miss talking to you. This week has shown me just how much we’ve grown apart and how awkward it is with us right now, and I hate it. I want us to be friends again.”
“I guess you should’ve thought about that before you dumped me over Skype, then stopped texting me.” You hadn’t thought before you blurted it out, but it feels good to say it.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have ended things the way that I did. That was shitty of me. And I truly didn’t mean to stop talking to you. School just took over and occupied all my time, and by the time I had room to breathe, it just felt like it was too late to reach out.”
“You didn’t even try, though, Namjoon! All I got at first was obligatory holiday texts, then even that stopped. And yeah, I know, phones work both ways, but for fuck sake, I flew to the other side of the planet to start over and not think about how you literally ripped my heart out. I wasn't really feeling up to just giving you a casual call.” You do your best not to raise your voice, but your emotions are working to quickly get the better of you.
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, and I can’t even begin to describe how shitty I felt when I did it; how shitty I still feel! Breaking up with you was one of the worst decisions I’ve ever made in my life. I missed hearing your voice and seeing your face, even over a video. I missed sending you dumb memes and getting good morning and goodnight texts from you. I missed knowing that when I came home, you’d be here to see me.” Namjoon moves closer to you, taking your hands in his. “Please forgive me. I want to get to know you again. I know the romance ship has sailed, and that’s not an option anymore, but can we rebuild our friendship?”
His words are promising and sweet and make you feel warm inside. The idea of having your best friend back nearly makes you sob in relief. You can’t lie and say that underneath the hurt that you don’t miss Namjoon too. You grew up together, and he was your first everything. Those feelings don’t just go away.
“Namjoon-”
“Please? Do you want me to beg? I’ll get down on my knees and beg you, but Y/n, you’re one of the most important people in my life. I can’t let you go back across the world and think I’ve lost you for a second time.”
You sigh, gripping Namjoon’s hands. “Listen, I’m not about to tell you we’ll be best friends again who stay up on FaceTime all night or text all day every day, but we can work on it.” Namjoon smiles at you, relief visibly washing over him. You feel a weight of your own lift off your shoulders. Things won’t be the same as they were, and your friendship will need a lot of work and time, but you have to start somewhere, right?
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. Y/n, you have no idea how-” Namjoon’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook bursts into the kitchen and grabs him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him away from you.
“Leave her the fuck alone!” Jungkook pulls Namjoon outside and shoves him, the older man nearly tripping backward. “I’m sick of watching you hit on Y/n all goddamn week! You’ve been bothering her since you showed up, and it pisses me off!”
Everyone at the wedding stops what they’re doing at this point. The backyard is only so big, so it’s not hard to miss the commotion.
“Jungkook, you don’t need to—” You attempt to diffuse the situation, but Jungkook shakes you off.
“No, Y/n, I’ve tried not to say anything and to be as nice to him as I can since your family is here, but I’m done letting him hit on you when I’m standing right fucking here!” Red in the face and scowling intensely, Jungkook approaches Namjoon, the older man standing up tall to face him.
“Nice?” Namjoon scoffs. “You’ve been shooting daggers at me since I walked through the front door. It’s pretty obvious you don’t like me.”
“Because I don’t! I’m not going to tell you again, leave Y/n alone.” Your entire family is watching the heated exchange now. Your brother and a few of your male cousins step forward, poised to intervene.
“Sounds like you’re feeling insecure, little boy.” You watch Jungkook’s fists clench at Namjoon’s taunting words.
“Joon, please don’t provoke him,” you beg.
Namjoon throws his hands up, shoulders shrugging.
“Hey, I’m just saying. If your little college fling can’t handle you talking to other men, maybe there’s something wrong with him.” Eyes going back to Jungkook, Namjoon lets out a laugh. “If you’re not careful, someone may just come along and steal her from you, little boy.” Namjoon pokes Jungkook in the chest, and it’s almost in slow motion that you watch Jungkook draw his arm back to punch Namjoon directly in the cheek.
The older man stumbles, falling on his ass onto the concrete of the back patio. A beat of silence goes by as no one moves, until all at once, you’re launching yourself forward to grab Jungkook, and your brother and a cousin are rushing over to help Namjoon up.
“Jungkook, let’s go!” You pull him away from the scene, Jungkook staring Namjoon down angrily as Namjoon’s mom rushes over to him. Once you’re both in the living room, away from the rest of the wedding, you shove him onto the couch and glare down at him. “Are you serious right now?! I can’t believe you just did that!”
“He deserved it! He’s been up your ass since he showed up!” Jungkook argues, adrenaline still coursing through him.
“That was so inappropriate! This is my cousin’s wedding, Jungkook!”
“So then he should keep his fucking hands off of you!”
“He wasn’t doing anything today! We were just talking when you barged in like a lunatic!”
“He can talk to you without holding your hand and getting all in your face!”
“It’s not that big of a deal, Jungkook! Fuck, why do you even care!?”
“Because I love you, Y/n!” Jungkook screams, jumping up from the couch.
“What?” You freeze.
“You heard me!” Jungkook runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands in frustration. Now that the rush of the moment has subsided, embarrassment and guilt at what he did make him feel tired. “It’s so exhausting trying to hide it. This trip has been so fucking hard. I have to walk around and kiss you and hold your hand and sleep in the same bed as you, and none of it is real! It sucks, and I feel like shit, and then to have to see some prick who blew his chances with you just show up and be all over you makes me so crazy. I’m sorry to you and your family that I punched him, but I’m not sorry to him.”
“So you’re in love with me.” You blink at him, your mind catching up to process his words.
“That’s literally what I just said.”
“And you were in love with me last night when we had sex?”
“Duh.”
“It wasn’t just the alcohol that made you horny?”
“Hell no. I’d do any and everything to you whether I was sober, drunk, high, tripping on shrooms or otherwise… also that sounded more romantic in my head.” he winces.
“Wow. And so you know I’m in love with you too, right?”
“Come on, you don’t have to just say shit to me to make me feel better.”
“Jungkook, I’m serious. I’ve loved you since what feels like the day we met, and this whole trip has been hell for me too. I spent all day today thinking yesterday meant nothing to you.”
Your best friend steps forward, his hands moving to cradle your face. “Yesterday meant everything to me, and you have no clue how relieved I am right now that you felt the same.” The two of you share a chuckle, any lingering tension now gone.
“So basically, what you’re saying is we aren’t just a ‘fake dating’ au, but we’re also an ‘idiots to lovers’ au. Got it.”
You let out a loud laugh at his words, smiling. Jungkook moves in to kiss you once your laughter subsides, catching you off guard, but you quickly kiss him back, the feeling of his lips on yours washing over you. Your body buzzes the same way it did the night before, and you momentarily forget where you are. You let Jungkook wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss, the sound of a throat clearing behind you cutting through the atmosphere and stopping anything else from happening.
Kayla is leaning against the doorway, arms folded and a smirk on her face. “So, I won’t tell mom or anyone else that you’ve both been lying to us if you come back outside now. Nikki wants to do the bouquet toss, and Namjoon’s mom wants an apology.”
Jungkook winces from next to you, face flushing at the thought of someone’s mom being mad at him. You take his hand and lead him behind you as you follow Kayla outside. You decide to address the fact that she heard you and Jungkook confess to one another later, and focus on the wedding instead.
Back outside, everyone has gone back to doing their own thing, but you feel them all slyly watching you and Jungkook as you make your way over to Namjoon, who’s sitting next to his mom, holding an ice pack on his cheek. Namjoon catches your eye and waves his mom away before getting up and meeting the two of you halfway.
“So,” Namjoon starts, “to not prolong this and make this any more awkward than it is, Jungkook, I’m sorry for what I said. I was just being petty and wanted to piss you off. I’m not going to steal Y/n from you. I truly just want to rebuild my friendship with her.” He offers Jungkook a slight bow, and surprisingly, Jungkook gives one in return.
“I uh, I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I hit you. I overreacted, and it was childish.”
Namjoon shrugs and waves his hand dismissively. “It’s okay. Like I said, I was purposely petty. And besides, I was pretty impressed with the force behind that punch. It knocked me on my ass.” He chuckles, and Jungkook does the same.
It only takes this single exchange to have the tension between both men broken. Both Jungkook and Namjoon go back to their seats while you gather with the rest of the women for the bouquet toss. Glancing over at them, you see them chatting idly. Jungkook of thirty minutes ago would never.
“Okay, everyone ready?!” Nikki calls, bringing your attention back to why you’re gathered behind her and Diana. After counting to three, they toss their matching bouquet of roses over their shoulders. You watch the flowers soar through the sky momentarily as one lands in the hands of one of your aunts. You barely try, but by some bizarre stroke of luck, the second plops right in your barely outstretched hands.
Voices whistling and cheering from around you, flustered,  you speed walk to the table where Jungkook is also getting teased by your family sitting with him. He gives you a sheepish smile but still doesn’t hesitate to take your hand.
The remainder of the wedding continues without any further incident, which you’re thankful for. Jungkook seems much more at ease when holding your hand or giving you the occasional kiss on your cheek or forehead. Kayla spends the rest of the night shooting you knowing glances whenever you look her way, and you already know you won’t be leaving home without giving her all the details.
That doesn’t happen tonight, though. After the wedding is over, and after you say your goodbyes to your family members, Jungkook fucks you better than he did the night before. This time, you can feel how different it is now that you’ve admitted your feelings for one another. Each thrust of his hips is punctuated with a soft ‘I love you,’ and this time, when you feel tears prick your eyes, it’s because you know the man you’ve loved feels the same.
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With the next day being your last full day at home, you spend it just you, Jungkook, your mom, and your siblings. The past week has been busier than anticipated with everything that went on, so you’re thankful for a final calm day to simply enjoy the ease of being home.
You admit to Kayla, Ray, and your mom the truth about you and Jungkook, and their only response is to laugh at you. It’s not as though you thought they’d shame you or make you feel bad, but you didn’t expect them to tease you.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry that you thought we’d pressure you to get married.” Your mom snickers, having finally calmed down from the initial laugh attack.
“You and aunties do it every time I talk to you! And with Nikki’s wedding, I just knew you’d be all over me.”
“Well, I’m sorry that we make you stress out about that. Look on the bright side; now we won’t ask you when you’ll settle down with someone. We’ll only ask when you and Jungkook are settling down.” She gives you both what you assume is her attempt at a reassuring smile, but it only makes you and Jungkook share a nervous look at the possibility of this upcoming interrogation.
The rest of the day is spent watching movies together, and your heart swells at the love that you feel being surrounded by your closest immediate family and your best friend turned boyfriend. As the day wears on, a few of your other family members stop by to say their goodbyes to you and Jungkook before you're off tomorrow morning. Everyone makes it clear to Jungkook that he’s welcome with you anytime and that he’s basically part of the family now. This only serves to have you even more emotional for the rest of the day.
That night, on your last night sleeping in your bed at home, you tear up while you and Jungkook cuddle together watching TikToks on his phone. He notices your sniffles and hurries to wrap you in his embrace, asking what’s wrong.
“S-sorry, I just- I’m really happy right now. I got to see my family, got to see one of my favorite cousins get married, and on top of that, I got you. I never thought I’d get to be with you like this.” You bury your face in his chest, feeling shy.
Jungkook lightly grabs your chin, bringing your face up to meet his. “Hey, I want you to know how happy I am right now too. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up from a dream any minute now and realize that I’m not actually holding you.” Jungkook’s words make the butterflies in your stomach flutter and your skin flush. He leans down to kiss you before you can hide again, his lips causing you to melt on the spot.
“I love you, Y/n.” he whispers against you when he pulls away for air. You smile back at him so hard your cheeks start to hurt.
“I love you too, Jungkook. So much.” You kiss him again as you feel your happy tears threaten to fall.
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“You need to text me when you land.”
“I will.”
“And let me know when you’re on your way back to school.”
“Yes, mom.”
“And let me know when you get to school—”
“Mom! You know I’ll let you know.”
Your mom laughs at your interruption, then her face falls into a frown.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m just going to miss you.” Tightening her grip on your shoulders, she pulls you into yet another hug. She and your siblings had driven you and Jungkook back to the airport, and she’s been holding you in a hug for the past five minutes.
“I know. I’ll miss you all too, but I promise I’ll come back soon.” She gives you a final squeeze before letting you go, allowing you to hug your brother and sister. They both say their goodbyes, making you promise to be back soon. Jungkook gets his own hugs from your family, all of them telling him to come back with you.
Your family watches you go as you finally head away through security to your plane.
When you and Jungkook are finally seated on the plane, ready for take-off, Jungkook checks his phone to text the group chat he has with the guys to let them know you’ll be home soon.
Taehyung: Can’t wait for you guys to get back! I’m bringing a bunch of food from my grandmother. You guys will love it.
Seokjin: More importantly, bring me my money! I won the bet for Y/n and Jungkook to hook up so bring me my wins
Jimin: Yeah, me too! I’ll even accept a digital transfer to my account please
Jungkook: Y’all know I can literally see this chat right
Taehyung: Oh chill out you already knew about the bet. And anyway what if Jungkook lied about them getting together? Like what if he just wants us to think he finally confessed when he didn’t because he doesn’t want us to clown him
Jimin: Hmmmmmm. Jungkook is it true???????
Seokjin: Ugh Tae makes sense he’s probably lying
Seokjin: YOU owe me then JK!
“Bunch of losers,” you grumble from next to Jungkook as you catch sight of the messages. “Here, give me your phone.” You give Jungkook a smirk, and he does as you say. You pull him closer to you and open the front-facing camera on his phone. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t hesitate to bring his mouth to yours, and you give him the sloppiest kiss you can muster. It’s all open mouth and tongue, and you snap a picture of it. You pull away quickly, leaving Jungkook in a daze as he watches you send the picture to the group chat and turn his phone off once it successfully delivers.
“We’re about to take off. Phone off for safety,” you smile, sending him a wink. Your own phone begins to buzz over and over before you cut yours off as well.
“They’re going to be so pissed at us when we get back to school.” You laugh at the thought, already hearing Jin’s boisterous voice screaming about the picture and Sana grilling you for details.
You decide to worry about that later and instead loop your arm through Jungkook’s on the armrest. He immediately makes space for you and kisses your forehead, the heat from his lips spreading throughout your entire body. Your eyes close as you relish in the feeling of Jungkook and focus on being with him and only him for the next sixteen hours.
Jungkook’s earlier words were right; the two of you are an ‘idiots to lovers’ au through and through, but you don’t mind. Having Jungkook love you back is the only happy ending you need.
671 notes · View notes
lavishedinjimin · a year ago
Text
Crybaby - 3 (m)
— synopsis: he calls you crybaby, crybaby. but you don’t fucking care.
alt: Jungkook doesn’t want to leave you.
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↳ pairing: jungkook x reader
↳ genre: smut, fluff
↳ rating: r-18/18+
↳ word count: 12k
↳ warnings: the usual dom!jk x sub! reader, ddlg themes, reader is small in height, degrading terms, he’s aggressive this chapter YIKES, jungkook gets turned on seeing you cry, manhandling, uses of rope and a vibrator, kinky sex, size kink, multiple orgasms, rough intercourse, jk’s a sadist, throat fucking, dirty talk, teasing, very possessive jk, and aftercare!!! there’s also some tooth melting fluff to (hopefully) balance everything out ;)
A/n: Before anything else, I want to repeat saying that everything written here is purely fictional, consensual, and doesn’t mirror the mentioned artists’ personality in real life.
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Jungkook thinks you’re the most adorable person in the entire world.
“How did you even fall in love with me?” you ask innocently, resting your head on his lap as you both let Edward Scissorhands play in the background. You didn’t even want to watch it in the first place but of course, a little bit of his desperate ‘please’ and puppy eyes always wins your meek heart.
He wraps his hand around your jaw, leaning down to kiss your lips tenderly. Giggling from the sudden impromptu kiss, you feel his soft, supple lips fondle with your own so gingerly. His grip on you tightens before he pulls away with a smirk, noticing the blush on your cheeks.
“So suddenly, baby?” Jungkook mutters as he feeds you a spoonful of Reese’s ice cream he holds in one hand. Looking down at your endearing face, he replies, “Don’t you remember our arcade date? That’s when I confessed my love to you.”
“Yeah, but…” you ponder, “Did you plan it all along?”
Jungkook shuts his eyes before giggling, his dimples peeking through his cheeks. Watching black strands of hair fall down right in front of his eyes as you gaze at him in confusion. Jungkook just sits there. “Well, there’s this exact moment when I knew that I just had to make you mine.”
With your eyes slowly expanding, you try to hide the smile that was slowly creeping up your face. He places the spoon inside the tub, letting his hand stroke your delicate cheek. “Wanna know what it was, baby girl?”
The way how fast you nodded your head was a little bit embarrassing. He grins nonetheless, “So…”
*flashback*
“Y/n,” Jungkook’s arm snakes around your waist before he tugs you closer to him. He gazes down at you with a smile before he points to the shelf full of toys and stuffed animals. “Which one do you like?”
Gulping, you stare at him with furrowed eyebrows, “Why?”
He doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Because I’m gonna win as many tickets as I possibly can to get it for you.”
You didn’t know how to respond for your shyness takes over you once again. On the other hand, Jungkook finds this so charming about you.
“The pink penguin…perhaps?” you mumble.
Jungkook immediately walks closer to approach the male employee behind the counter and inquires, “Excuse me, but how many tickets to get that penguin over there?”
You giggle as you watch how serious he looked as if talking about a huge business deal with his arms crossed together.
The man replies with a bright smile, “1500 tickets, that is!”
“That’s a lot—” you exhale.
“Let’s go, Y/n!” he abruptly pulls you by the arm and tugs you along with him, “I’m gonna get that lil’ penguin for you, baby.”
Your heart swells at the petname. It wasn’t his first time saying it, you just can’t get used to it.
Even though this was the fifth date, the post-nervousness was still there. Before he picked you up from work, your hands were sweating bizarrely. It wasn’t like you weren’t comfortable with him, no, you were always at ease when you’re with him. The reason for the nervousness was you haven’t been in a relationship with someone for so long, and Jungkook has his bars set up high. 
Plus, it was overwhelming in a good way; Jungkook was the confident type and he likes to display how much he adores you – either in private or public places, he didn’t care. As long as he can properly show how much he likes you.  
The arcade has a very 80s feel to it, with a color scheme of mostly red, yellow, and blue. It was lively and has a fun atmosphere going around. Children were running around with their parents, eager to search for another machine to take over, teenage boys were competing against each other in a game of Tekken, and a lot of girls were having a blast inside the Karaoke rooms. 
While time goes on in the arcade, you never realized that he was super competitive. “Y/n, I’m gonna beat this record, watch me.” He says in a deep tone as though wanting to sound serious, stretching his arms to prepare for the punching machine.
“Are you sure?” you chuckle as you hold all of you two’s well-earned tickets from the past hours, “The record is 877. Are you even strong enough?”
You could’ve sworn to yourself that it was an innocent, genuine question. But Jungkook, on the other hand, turns behind to look at you with those dark yet sensual eyes. He precipitously cracks his knuckles, succeeding to intimidate you.
“What a weird question, Y/n,” he says sarcastically with a smirk daubed on his face, “I don’t think you know how powerful I am, babe.”
As soon as those words left his lips, he turns back around in a flash, swinging his right arm with all his might until his fist crashes against the punching bag. You let out a loud gasp, mouth forming into a beaming wide grin as the machine slightly thuds from the harsh impact.
Still, he doesn’t look at the score and he looks at you with a cocky grin, boldly spreading his arms out.
“Kook—” you snort.
“What did I tell you, Y/n? I’m the strongest man you know.”
“Sure but,” you cover your mouth to prevent yourself from laughing too loud, “You s-scored 878!”
Jungkook whips around instantly. Surely, surely he didn’t win by only 1 single point! He groans and stomps his foot like a little child. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
You couldn’t control your laughter anymore as you reach out to him, hugging his body from behind. Jungkook throws his head back in despair while he places his hands on top of yours. Your hug felt warm and soft, feeling your cheek pressed up against him. Jungkook turns you around until he was face to face with you.
“You’re so small,” he practically whispers underneath his breath. He places his long, slender index finger below your chin and tilts your head up. Then with his other hand, he uses it to remove the lost strands of hair away from your face. “So fucking cute.”
You can’t help but look away as your body freezes in place. And once again, you feel yourself wanting to crawl into a little ball and hide from everyone from how tough he was staring at you. There was a fuzzy, fiery feeling going on inside your system that you can’t seem to handle.
“Nuh-uh, keep those pretty eyes on me.” He applies just the right amount of force on your chin and angles your head to look up.
Your breathing almost stops at that single sentence.
Jungkook looked like as if numerous of thoughts were running through his brain. His eyes were not only fixated on yours but were darting all over. He memorizes the pattern on your face; the distance between your nose to your mouth, the little creases near your eyes, your moles, and even the little pimples you had on your temples, he thinks you’re so beautiful. Too beautiful to handle.
‘How can a person look so perfect?’ He asks himself.
“Kook?”
Oh, how soft your voice is. His mouth curves into a gentle smile for he can’t help himself but pull you closer.
“Hm?”
“People are staring.”
Jungkook scoffs quietly, “Let them stare, Y/n. This is our world and they’re just living in it.”
You had a tough, long day at work and this date really made your day better. You were laughing and having fun with Jungkook the whole time, experiencing one of the most enjoyable days you’ve ever had. It was as if all of your problems went away whenever you’re with him. You and he played almost every game in the arcade, except for the Dance Dance machine which was sadly under maintenance. You were really looking forward to beating him in Dance Revolution because he insists that he’s a good dancer. He has yet to prove that to you! 
“Yes! I won!” You yelled, turning your hands into a fist after successfully beating Jungkook at the Hockey table. He chuckles when you stuck your tongue out at him like a child.
“I obviously allowed you to win that one, babe,” he playfully rolls his eyes. “I mean, you have to win at least something, right?”
“Hey!” you pout, treading heavily to his side. Jungkook gawks down at you with his brows raised. “I won because I’m good at it, okay?”
“Aww,” he teases, “Alright then little one. Say whatever you want.”
“You’re so,” you gulp, “so m-mean.”
Jungkook looks around the arcade, zooming his eyes all over the place until he spots an ice-cream seller just outside the building.
An idea pops up inside his mind.
“I’ll treat you some ice cream, how’s that?”
He notices how your eyes glimmer as if little shining stars replaced your pupils. You nod frantically.
“Yeah? Alright, wait for me here, okay? And in the meantime, how about you turn in all of our tickets, and let’s see if we can get the penguin stuffie.”
“Okay,” you jitter excitedly, holding the stack of tickets tighter. You watch him walk out of the area, catching the way he pulls out his black leather wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.
Making your way down the hallway to the main entrance where the ticket eaters are, you smile at a couple of strangers who had their eyes on you. When you arrived, you can’t take your eyes off of the shelves full of plushies. Especially the pink penguin that you were after. You had an instinct to squint your eyes at the toy as if having a little staring contest with it while the machine consumes and counts all of the tickets.
After a little while, you hear Jungkook’s voice calling your name.
“Y/n!” he shouts, holding up two cookies and cream ice cream cones, “come, come!”
You sprinted. You didn’t know why you were so excited to get the ice cream, leaving the tickets counting all alone behind you.
“Yaaay! Ice cr—oomph!” 
There was a step slightly higher towards the exit and your feet immediately collides against it. Like a quick wisp of air, your body smashes upon the hard, cold cemented floor. A loud, painful cry escapes your lips as you close your eyes, trying to endure the building pain on your forearms and knees.
‘This is so embarrassing!’ you say in your mind, struggling to regain your composure. 
People around you looked, some tried to hide their obvious laughter by covering their mouths, but none helped.
Jungkook saw everything. Quickly handing the ice cream back to the vendor, saying that ‘he’ll come back for it’, he dashes to where you are and handles your fallen body with utmost care.
“Hey, hey baby,” he whispers, placing his hands on your underarms to lift you up with ease, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
His heart drops to his stomach right when you looked up at him with your big, teary eyes.
“Oh god,” Jungkook’s voice weakens, “No, no, don’t cry baby girl, don’t cry…”
You were so humiliated. You shouldn’t have run so fast like that, you should’ve watched your step! Now everyone will look at you weirdly!
Whimpering when Jungkook makes you walk, you shake your head to show that it hurts as you try to hold back your tears. “Ohh, Y/n,” he sighs before he lifts you up, and carries you to a nearby brown bench just outside the arcade. He crouches before you, “Does your knees hurt, hmm?” his hands caress your exposed legs up and down, trying his best to soothe you.
Biting your lip, you nod slowly.
“Aw, goodness,” he leans closer to you and kisses your forehead, “What did you do, huh? You should’ve been more careful and watched your step.” He clicks his tongue, making a ‘tsk’ sound, “Good thing there’s no scratches.”
The stern, strict tone of his voice caused you to look away and hang your head low. “S-Sorry…” you sniffed.
A single tear flows out of your right eye and it slowly treads down your cheek. Jungkook was quick to notice, wiping your tear away with his thumb. “Hey, it’s okay baby.” He reaches your hand and gives it a little kiss, “Don’t cry now, hmm? Look at me,” he tilts your head up with a single finger underneath your chin, “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re okay, you’re with me.”
You only stared at him with glossy eyes, not giving a reply. However, Jungkook’s mind comes up with a plan. “Wait here Y/n, okay? I’ll be right back.”
“No!” you whine, shaking your head. Your hands grab onto his muscular biceps as you try to pull him closer.
He chuckles quietly and holds your face in his big, warm hands, his eyes staring deep into yours. “I won’t be going far, baby girl, I’m not leaving you alone, yeah? Stay here for me, I’ll be back in a quick second.” With a final kiss on top of your head, he shuffles back inside the arcade, leaving you alone on the bench while the soft, supple air kisses your skin. The wind whooshes your hair to one side, causing a few strands to get caught in your mouth. You hiked your knees up to your stomach, hugging yourself in search of comfort.
You never want to go inside that arcade ever again.
A few moments have passed and you see Jungkook walking back to you with a huge grin on his face, hands behind his back as if hiding something.
Your mood instantly picks up again when he surprises you with the soft, pink penguin stuffie, handing it over to you with a big smile. You eagerly reached your arms out to grab for the toy, but he doesn’t give it to you just yet. 
“Uh-uh, promise me you won’t be sad anymore?”
“I promise!” you giggle, eyes laid still on the penguin. “Gimme!”
“Right,” he sighs amusingly, “Here you go, babe.” Jungkook laughs from how fast you snatched the stuffie away from him. He looks at you with love as you cuddled the toy in your arms, pressing your cheeks against it.
In the meantime, he leaves you to get the ice creams that the vendor was still keeping an eye on the entire time. Jungkook pays him and apologizes for the wait, before coming back to you with two cones in each hand.
“Ice cream,” he gives you your cone, “for my crybaby.”
Jungkook, somehow – as crazy as it may sound – feels his chest warming up from the sight of you. How come he likes seeing you this way? Something about taking care of you drives his heart pounding. Was it because you look so cute, yet so vulnerable? Or was it his caretaking, nurturing personality that was beginning to emerge? Whatever it was, Jungkook was fond of it.
Jungkook walks you back home, his hand intertwined with yours, while you carry your penguin toy that you named Perry. 
“Perry?” Jungkook chuckles amusingly, “Like Perry the Platypus?” 
“Nope!” you shake your head with a serious glint in your face, “Perry the Pink Penguin!” 
“Well that’s just horrific.” 
The air around the two of you was great – it wasn’t hot nor cold either. You two had little sweet talks and short conversations here and there as your shoes brush along the paved sidewalks.
When you both end up in your doorstep, you bid Jungkook goodbye. “Thank you for today, Kook,” you speak shyly, “And um, for this—” you refer to the penguin stuffie. He chuckles but not a word has been spoken. So you continue, “I-I also want to say sorry… for uh… because you had to see me cry…”
“No, no, it’s alright with me,” Jungkook quickly reassures you, enveloping your small figure into a hug, leaning down so that his chin rests on top of your head. “It doesn’t bother me. In fact, uh, Y/n?”
You raise your brows, pulling out of the hug to stare at him, “Yeah?”
Jungkook gulps the ball that has been formed in his throat, looking away from your beautiful face for a moment before recollecting his thoughts, “I’ve…I’ve thought about this for a while now. Like a really long time.”
You listen with your mouth slightly agape, watching him get a little flustered.
“I really really fucking like you, Y/n. I know you know that already.”
Your heart beats a little faster.
“And I want to spend more time with you. There’s not a day where I don’t think about you. Almost every second of my mind is filled with you and your pretty smile. I w-want to treat you and take care of you everyday without having to think twice. So, uh, if you want can you…can you be my girl—”
“Yes!”
Jungkook was taken aback from your quick reply. His eyes slightly expand as the corner of his lips curve up, “Yes?”
“Yes! I-I’ll be your girlfriend.”
Jungkook’s heart was filled with joy and ecstasy for he was so glad that you felt the same way. He lifts your body up and spins you around, causing you to squeal and hold onto his shoulders.
“You’re mine now, Y/n. Fucking finally.”
*end of flashback*
“What do you mean?! So the entire time we were playing games at that arcade… the moment you fell in love with me was when I cried because I tripped?!” You bellowed, sitting up straight on the couch as Jungkook laughs his ass off from your reaction.
“Well, obviously it’s not only that! That moment just sticks to my mind a lot. You’re too adorable when you cry.” Jungkook smirks on the last sentence, having two meanings behind it. 
You huff, standing up to head to the bedroom. “Hey, where are you going baby?” With him still giggling, he tries to catch your arm.
“Bedroom! I’m scared of Edward Scissorhands. You’re weird, Jungkook.”
“I’ll be with you after I finish my ice cream!”
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Being a graphic designer can be challenging yet enjoyable at the same time. You get to do what you love which was drawing and editing digital photos, yet the only downfall was that you had to work in an office building. Being an introvert, having a lot of people around your workplace was a lot to get used to.
But thankfully, you have Jimin.
Not only is he one of your best friends, but he was also a senior designer who is assigned to you – his inferior.
Sometimes you two can’t even get a single thing done because all you both did was fool around your office, instead of him guiding you and teaching you the ropes.
“Hey, Y/n!” Jimin gleams as he walks inside the office room, hands in his pockets. He was wearing black fitted pants and a white long-sleeved shirt tucked inside. “Have you ate yet?”
You stretch your arms out, twisting your body side to side to crack your bones. “Uh, yeah! I ate two cups of ramen before you got here.”
He smiles at you, “That’s good. Anyway, are we still working on the designs for our Christmas calendar?” Jimin sits across from you, eyeing all of the scattered papers filled with colorful drawings.
“Mhm! This is my fourth edit. Director didn’t like my designs,” you pout.
“That’s why you need my help, Y/n.” He speaks slowly with his eyes squinting, enunciating his words, “Me and no one else.”
“Sure.” You roll your eyes.
“That’s no way to talk to your superior!”
Meanwhile, Jungkook tilts his head to the side in dismay when he gets stuck in the long traffic. He was on the way to your office building to pick you up from work, but of course, it just had to be a busy Monday today. No cars were moving even a single inch, the whole highway motionless that causes Jungkook to zone out a little bit.
Zoning out isn’t a good move for Jungkook for he tends to think about the most ridiculous, absurd things ever.
But suddenly, as if his thoughts were infatuated by a demon, the image of your sobbing, fucked-out face flashes in his mind. He unconsciously bites on his lower lip, remembering how much your little body shuddered, and how you keep withering around the bed from even the slightest of touch.
“Shit,” Jungkook breathes out, feeling uncomfortable in his seat. He shuffles around until he finds a good position, sensing a tightness in his pants. He recalls how he got so turned on just from your sensitivity, the way you were whimpering and trying your best to hold back your tears.
Knowing that he’s the only person that can make you cry from having sex really strokes his ego. Before he had you, he didn’t know that he had a kink for making his significant other cry during intercourse. 
It may be just the sadistic side of him getting fueled up whenever he sees your tears, he can’t explain how much it drives him wild.
Jungkook smirks while he rests his elbow on the car door as his fingers play with his lip. He’s cocky about the fact that he can make you sob and quiver like that. Make you turn so fucking submissive and obedient for him, letting him take over and control your frail, poor body.
He remembers the first time he discovers your filthy kinks and fantasies, how baffled he was to know that an innocent, shy girl like you can be so wild. It was always the ones you don’t expect to have a freaky side.
Jungkook grunts as his hand grip the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles turning white. He chuckles to himself as the raging boner hardens beneath his black ripped jeans, almost being a little too painful to bear. He hears your cries of pleasure ringing in his ears, the way you whimpered so cutely every time, your sobs growing louder and louder, he loves those noises. Thankfully, the traffic eases up and cars finally move.
“Oh, Y/n,” Jungkook mutters whilst shaking his head, “What an angel you are.”
If it weren’t for the traffic lights that always reminded him to slow down, Jungkook would’ve driven in light-speed just to see you again. His dirty thoughts that won’t go away was making him impatient and hornier. 
When he successfully arrives at the building, he speed-walks to the elevator, heading to the second floor. Jungkook taps his foot impatiently, crossing his arms together. “Fucking hell,” he grunts as his mind keeps repeating images of your cute body trying to take his dick, how your legs shake, or the way your eyes couldn’t keep themselves open from the pleasure he was giving you. He sighs with a little grin on his face, “Why am I like this?”
The door opens and he makes his way to your area, knowing which hallways and turns he has to make thanks from his previous visits. He makes long, quick strides until he finally reaches your office.
But the excited smile that was once planted in his face fades away when he spots you from outside the window, with Jimin behind you. Jungkook feels his body tense when Jimin leans his body from behind, his arms trapping your upper body with his cheek pressed against your face.
“What the fuck?”
Jungkook’s blood boils and he feels himself getting enraged. Why were you letting him touch you like that? He knows that Jimin’s only a friend, but he was not supposed to act all touchy like that with a girl who’s already taken. It made Jungkook furious to see some other man holding his girl like that – for he was supposed to be the only one. The only arms that are supposed to wrap around your body are his.
He tries to calm down. Jungkook really does attempt to calm down but his nerves don’t stop heating up. With a shaky exhale, he grabs his phone from his back pocket and calls your number to test if you’ll pick up.
“Oh, wait, is that your phone?” Jimin asks, “Someone’s calling you.”
You giggle while you make your way to the desk while dragging Jimin behind you. Your phone displayed Jungkook’s name – although it made your heart skip a beat – you declined the call.
“Huh,” Jungkook scoffs, smirking wrathfully. He doesn’t even try to wonder why you didn’t pick up. He feels irritated and all the flirty, playful mood he once had was gone in a single moment.
You jump in surprise when the door swings open, revealing a very angry Jungkook making his way to your desk. Jimin instantly distances himself away from you.
“B-Babe!” you laugh nervously, palms getting sweaty. You quickly glance at Jimin, sending him a worried look before turning your attention back to Jungkook. Your boyfriend stands tall across the desk with his arms crossed, glaring at you with a lifted eyebrow. “You’re here e-early!”
He doesn’t reply.
Unwillingly, you clasp your hands behind your back and your head hangs low from Jungkook’s intimidating, hard glare, falling right into submission. You gulp from the immense tension that builds up in the room.
“Uh…I’ll be heading off—” Jimin says, making his way to the exit but Jungkook doesn’t speak a single word to him, nor to you. 
You take this chance to gather all of your belongings, packing your laptop, tablet, and shoving all of your papers inside your tote bag in a rush. 
“So we’re allowed to let other people touch us, hmm, Y/n?” He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. His head was tilted up although his gaze looks down on you. 
“I-It doesn’t mean anything!” you feel your knees getting wobbly, wanting to just disappear from the harsh look he was giving you. 
He rolls his eyes, “Of fucking course it doesn’t. But tell me, Y/n, if it were the other way around. If you saw some other girl’s face pressed against fucking mine while she had her arms around me, would you like it?” With your feet shuffling against the floor in fear, you look away from him. “Huh? Would you like seeing some other girl in your place?” 
“No.” 
“No. That’s correct. So I have the right to be fucking angry.” 
Jungkook rushes forward, “Why didn’t you answer your phone, hmm?” he slams his hand on the desk, causing you to gasp. “Y/n?”
While your eyes look down on the ground, you can hear the heel of his boots clicking against the floor, walking closer to you. The air that surrounds the two of you immediately thickens, and you weren’t a fan of the tense atmosphere at all.
“I was w-working—”
“Bullshit.” He grips your jaw tightly in one hand, forcing you to angle your head up and look at him. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”
Your heart clenches and drops down to the floor from the stringent attitude of his voice. You mewl when he tightens his grip and feverishly rattles your head side to side. “Use your fucking words.”
“I…w-was…” you stammer, “talking with Jimin.” Instant regret fills your mind and body for even being so close with Jimin when you should’ve answered his call. “I’m sorry—!”
“Save your sorry’s for later. I won’t be accepting your apologies soon enough, brat.”
He releases his grip on you and walks away without sparing you another glance. “We’ve been together for so long, Y/n. Haven’t you learned that I don’t like it when other men oggle you up?” Jungkook turns back around, lifting the hems of his long-sleeves so that it exposes his forearms. “If I wasn’t here, you would’ve allowed him to keep touching you like that, right? Yes or no?” 
You immediately shake your head, “N-No!” 
“No? Really...” he laughs darkly, “Please, Y/n, I wasn’t born yesterday. Since he’s ‘just a friend’ I still think you would’ve let him touch you. I know you, I see right past your fucking lies.” 
He wasn’t wrong, and you feel so guilty. So guilty that all you wanted to do was to hug him and apologize, but you know that it isn’t easy. 
“Head down to the car. Don’t make me wait for you because if not, I’m gonna fucking leave you here.” He brushes his long hair back and with that, he was gone.
A chill came running down your spine and you immediately follow right behind his footsteps.
The car ride back home was quiet and you didn’t like the silence at all. You were trying to force yourself to talk, say sorry so that everything will hopefully go back to normal. But there was as if a thick wall separating the two of you.
“Babe?” you whisper meekly, your hand nervously playing with the hem of your thigh-high stockings. Jungkook clenches his jaw yet he doesn’t respond.
A pout creeps up your lips instinctively, “I’m really really sorry…”
No response.
You feel a heavy burden in your heart, upsetting you even more because he was giving you the silent treatment. Jungkook has never ignored you like this before, not even in your most heated argument. Looking at his face in hopes that he’ll at least give you a single glance, you depict how his eyebrows were furrowed and eyes straight ahead on the road. “Kook, please talk to me—”
Your words got cut off when the engine suddenly roars loudly and the car accelerates, your body going in a state of shock as Jungkook shifts the gear. He steps on the pedal and the car goes from a steady 60 to 80 miles per hour.
“Jungkook! S-Slow down!” your left hand reaches out to grab a hold of his own hand, but he was quick to shove it away, leaving you sad and whining in your seat.
Jungkook clicks his tongue, “The faster we get back home, the quicker I can punish you.” He says without looking at you.
Your core jumps and twists at his demeaning words, feeling confused yet excited at the same time. Unintentionally, you clench your thighs together as his hot, sultry voice resonates throughout the car.
“You can smile all you want right now baby,” he mutters, “Gonna wipe that cheeky little grin on your face later when I force your orgasms out of you.”
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“Put your hands against the wall,” Jungkook immediately commands after he drags you to his bedroom. He stands tall behind you, watching your poor figure slowly obeying his words. His lips curve up when he studies your body, already trembling in fear. This feeds unto his primal, dominant desires to take over you and ruin you. Your little hands touch the cold walls with your back slightly arched, already knowing what’s about to come.
Jungkook’s dick throbs in just the sight of the combination of your skirt and thigh-highs. He doesn’t hesitate to firmly grasp your ass cheek below the flimsy material with his big hand, causing a whimper to fall off your lips. “Look at this fucking outfit you have,” he muses, “If it weren’t for that sweater you have on, I would’ve said that you look so much like a fucking slut.”
“Jungkook—”
He suddenly blows a hard slap, “That’s not my name. Huh, you really wanna disobey daddy?”
You whimper, “N-No.”
He hikes your skirt up to expose more of your plump ass, landing another harsh spank that caused your body to jolt, eyes fluttering shut from the sting. “No? Isn’t it disrespectful to ignore daddy’s phone-calls?” he hits your ass again, harder, his muscles flexing. “Tell me, what was Jimin doing that he just need to fucking put his hands all over you with his head so fucking close to yours, huh?”
Your eyes instantly start to become glossy from the solid, rough slaps on your tender ass cheeks. Chewing on your bottom lip, you try your best to cover your little sniffs.
Within a quick second, Jungkook flips you around until your back was pressed firmly against the wall, his hand wrapped around your throat. You hitch your breath up from the aggressive behavior, how his eyes were quick to scan your body up and down like a predator. “You’re not gonna answer me?” he scoffs, “Fucking god – you love to make daddy mad, don’t you? Acting like such a bitch.”
Furiously shaking your head side to side, you disagree with his statement. Jungkook is scary when he’s angry – even though it can be seen as hot sometimes – you never want to make him mad on purpose!
“T-That’s not true, daddy!” your bottom lip faintly quivers as your eyes can’t seem to focus on him.
Jungkook’s eyebrows raise up, giving you a mocking expression, “Ohh really, baby?” the grip on your throat tightens, making you gasp for air, “You don’t like making me angry? When in fact that I know you like being punished like this. You like daddy manhandling your frail, little body, and letting him ruin it in every possible way. Are you gonna lie and tell me that that isn’t true, hm? ”
You didn’t know what to answer. Your chest heaves up and down in panic while you release a quiet, little mewl in desperation. Jungkook – somehow – finds that adorable; how your big, teary eyes look up at him in utter fear of what’s about to come.
He smirks as he leans down to your height, your faces so close to each other as his lips barely graze against yours. You can feel his hot breath upon you, the warmness of his body resonating. 
With a low, almost gravelly voice, he asks you; “Do you not talk?”
Those words seem awfully familiar…
Gulping nervously, you tremble, “I-I can…”
“You can? Sorry darling, I just needed to make sure because you seem to be silent every time I ask a goddamn question. Now, get on the fucking bed.”
Jungkook watches you scramble and obey his command, the cold mattress rubs against your skin from the air conditioning. He stands at the edge of the bed, watching you with primal eyes. “Undress.”
“W-What?”
“I said what I said. Strip,” he crosses his arms, revealing his toned biceps, “Leave your skirt and stockings on. Remove everything except those.”
You can’t seem to look at his eyes because you were afraid that you were going to melt when you do so. You tug your sweater up, your skin exposing to the air that surrounds the two of you, followed by your bra. Your boyfriend sees your cute hardened nipples, making him smirk a little bit.
“Now your panties, go on.”
Before you can even yank your undergarment down, Jungkook speaks, “Look at me while you do so. You’ve been avoiding my eyes all this time.”
Jungkook barely hears the quiet whimper that emits your mouth while your eyes finally lock onto his. Wanting to tease you furthermore, he sends you a cocky smirk with a quick raise of his brow as you pulled your panties down.
His breath almost hitches up from the sight of you, all naked except those kinky pairs of stockings and skirt. He wonders if you specifically wore them just to tease him, heck, was it even appropriate for your work? Even so, he’s glad that he’s the only person to see you like this, so beautiful and ready to be ruined.
You wonder if he’s going to crawl on the bed with you and touch you, waiting for him to make a move but nothing happens. You look up at him expectantly with wide eyes as your hands timidly fumble with your skirt.
“Touch yourself.”
Your heart sinks to your stomach. Did you hear him correctly? Like... does he really want you to play with yourself right in front of him? You can feel your tummy do backflips from his words while you instantly turn shy once again.
“Fucking hell, is one instruction not enough for that brain of yours to comprehend? I said—,” he leans down to grab your thighs, forcing your legs apart with vigor, exposing your cunt all to his eyes. “—touch yourself.”
You whine when he suddenly crawls on top of you, arms on either side of your figure to support himself up, his face hovering above yours. He leans down and whispers in your ear, “Bring your hand down, little girl, and play with your pussy the way daddy does.”
Without angering him further, you obey and brought your hand down to touch your clit. Jungkook never removes his eye-contact as he watches your face slowly contort in pleasure. With two fingers, you gently circled your clit, making your mouth part open from the meek pleasure. “O-Ohh,” you can feel your wet lips when you dragged your fingers along them.
You feel so embarrassed masturbating in front of him like this. Jungkook chuckles and kneels in front of you, placing his knees in between your spread legs to watch how you play with your cunt. You moan when he finally grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up, revealing his toned body for your eyes to see. This encouraged you to rub your clit faster, but it just wasn’t enough.
“Daddy…” you whine, “please...”
Jungkook notices the frown that was beginning to form your lips, but instead of feeling bad, he takes the opportunity to degrade you. “What is it, baby? Hm? Do you even know how to touch your pussy?” he teases, “Do you still fuckin’ need daddy’s help?”
You don’t even care if you look pitiful, shaking your head up and down. “Y-Yes, please touch m-me…” you say with a quiet voice. As you continue to masturbate, Jungkook sees how your body trembles, knowing that it wants more.
But sadly, you look too good in this position that you’re in. Your skirt hiked up to your abdomen while your toes curl in desperation. Jungkook lightly scoffs as he doesn’t hesitate to palm his rock-hard cock through his jeans. “Mmm, I would if you had been a good girl. But daddy wants you to cum with your own fingers, prove to me that you’re a big girl who can fucking cum without my help.”
You release an exasperated groan, arching your back in utter need. Jungkook was cruel to do this to you, as he definitely knows how much you prefer his own fingers on your juicy little pussy.
The sight was boosting his ego, whether he likes it or not. He observes how your cute, middle finger tries to insert itself inside your tight little hole, earning a loud moan from you. Jungkook sees your arousal dripping down from your entrance, the glistering liquid running down to your ass. You were so wet, and he was dying to taste you. Jungkook feels his dominance taking over as his patience was wearing thin, wanting to shove your hands away and just take over. It frustrates him how desperate you make him feel without even trying.
You finger yourself with one hand, as the other continues to rub your clit. You try to remember how Jungkook does it, your mind trying to reminisce his techniques, making you distracted from your own pleasure. It doesn’t even feel half as good as his! You let out a loud, frustrated whine, feeling your eyes well up with tears once again.
“I-I can’t,” you sniff, a tear rolling down your cheek as you try your best to make yourself feel good, “Please, daddy I need y-you!”
Jungkook leans forward as he wipes your tears with his thumb, licking his lips slowly while he watches you with a sensual look. “What do you need from daddy, hm?”
You groan, hating how much he can torture you like this. Your breathing was already unstable and your mind was thinking of ways on how you can make him touch you. “I need your fingers, daddy – please? I can’t cum like this,” you shake your head desperately, “I can’t.”
“Holy fucking shit, I think I need to get a new baby girl. One who knows how to pleasure herself without my help.”
“No!” you yell, closing your eyes as more tears wells up, “N-No! I-I’m sorry I just can’t…”
Jungkook almost feels bad. Almost.
“That’s sad, baby girl. If you can’t cum then don’t try anymore.” He abruptly spanks your inner thigh, leaving you crying for more, “You’ve been a bad girl today and you’ve got to endure your punishment.”
Jungkook tugs your hands away and your pussy clenches from the sour loss. “Keep crying, slut, this is what you deserve.” He stands up from the bed and makes his way to the closet to get something. You obediently lay there with a frown as you wiped your eyes, ogling his broad, muscular back in the meantime.
When he was taking up more time than you wanted, you kicked your legs impatiently while whining.
He smirks, rolling his eyes, “Impatient, I see?” After that, he swiftly turns around to reveal a red-colored rope, dangling it side to side for a little tease.
“What are you g-gonna do with that?” you ask with wide, glossy eyes.
Jungkook walks back to you with that signature sultry yet teasing look, making you anticipate what’s about to come even more.
“Daddy’s gonna tie your hands behind your back until your wrists bruise, little one.”
Your core throbs from the image he paints in your mind, how the rope would probably scratch against your skin, and how turned on he would be from the sight of you struggling. Jungkook motions you to turn around with a little spin of his finger. You kneel, looking away from him while he grabs your wrists together in one hand. The arrogant smirk doesn’t wipe off of his face as he ties the rope around your hands, whimpering when he pulls it tight. 
“Is that too tight baby girl?” he asks, stopping himself from laughing, “Does it hurt?”
You sniff, “A l-little bit.”
“Good. I was actually planning to bind your legs together as well, but I don’t think you can handle that anymore.” He says behind you, “I don’t think your precious body can handle being daddy’s little ropebunny.”
With his words, you turn your head to look at him with a confused expression, “Rope…ropebunny?”
Jungkook chuckles and nods his head once.
“What does that mean, daddy?”
Jungkook’s heart swell, “Means that you’re letting me tie you up, restraint your body with rope – and letting daddy do whatever he fucking wants to you. Bruise your skin until it hurts too much. If maybe you weren’t such a crybaby and a sensitive little bitch then I would’ve done that to you by now.”
He doesn’t let you reply as he gives your ass a loud, stinging spank using the palm of his right hand. You whimper in pain, closing your eyes for a mere second as your mouth parts.
“Head down, ass up. Now.”
You do as you’re told, and not going to lie, your heart was doing backflips from the nervousness and intimidation of the position that you’re in. Your ass and cunt were so exposed, allowing him to see how wet you are. Your cheeks pressed against the sheets, tilted to the side so that you can at least see a portion of his figure behind you. Although you release a loud cry when he suddenly lands a slap directly on your throbbing clit. Your hands instinctively moved to grab onto something, but the rope was preventing them from doing so.
“Daddy—!” He slaps your pussy again, this time harder. He slides his index finger down your wet slick, teasingly prodding against your entrance that causes your arousal to gush.
“God, you’re so fucking noisy. I’d put a gag in that loud mouth of yours to shut you up, but daddy loves your cute whimpers too much.”
You dig your nails onto your palm when Jungkook finally plays with your pussy, using two fingers to gently – barely rub your clit. The tip of his index and middle finger brushes against your throbbing clit, using the slightest bit of pressure. He bites his lip from the way you wiggle your ass, desperate for more. “You can’t even masturbate without my assistance, fucking hell,” he muses, “did it embarrass you, huh?”
“Mhmm,” you hum meekly, grinding your teeth together because you needed more friction, and you were too afraid to tell him.
“Yeah?” Jungkook smirks, “You had to cry like a pathetic little bitch, too.” Without a warning, he easily shoves his middle finger in, making you arch your back painfully, drawing a loud squeal. He starts pumping it in and out at a fast pace. The wet squelching noise that your cunt makes, paired with your moans was music to his ears. “I guess it feels better when daddy plays with your pussy, right slut?”
When you don’t answer immediately, too focused on the pleasure, he inserts two more fingers in – stretching your pussy. You gasp loudly, his long, slender fingers reaching the most intimate places inside of you. Jungkook bites his lip harshly, getting so turned on from your sweet moans and whines. 
“Y-Yeah… yes daddy – oww fuck – it feels much better,” even though your mind was filled in lust and can’t think of anything else but the way he was furiously pumping three fingers in and out of you, you answer him in fear that his punishment will turn way worse. His three fingers were almost too much for your hole to handle, making your hips tremble as it tries to accommodate the girth. 
“Who owns your pussy, hm?” he uses his other unoccupied hand to rub and pinch your clit, providing you with overstimulation of pleasure. His fingers reach deeper until it hits your g-spot, making your toes curl while you once again tear up. He growls, “Who fucking owns you?”
“You!” you moan, vision getting blurry, “You own me d-daddy…” you can already feel yourself coming close to an orgasm – one thing you can’t do with your own fingers. Your stomach tightens and tightens, waiting for your oh-so needed release. You sob onto the sheets, eyes closed in desperation.
“Good thing you know—” but he suddenly pulls his hands away, leaving you shaking and breathless. “This is my cunt and I get to do whatever I want with it.”
“No!” you groan in frustration from the denied orgasm, eyebrows furrowing as your legs shake, “Fuck y-you.”
Jungkook’s ears pick up the words you muttered.
“What was that?” He roughly wraps his hand around your neck and forces your upper body to lift up. You start to panic as Jungkook chokes you, “What the fuck did you say, hm? Getting fucking bold today, aren’t we?”
“S-Sorry,” you stutter, not having the courage to speak. You didn’t mean to say that at all! You were just frustrated and the words slipped out without realizing it! He sees a droplet of tear dripping down your cheek and he rolls his eyes.
“What a bratty, disobedient little fucktoy.” Jungkook quickly stands up to unbutton his jeans and pulls it down, leaving himself in his underwear. “You’re not the good girl that I know.” He hops back on the bed with you and moves so that he kneels in front of you. He holds your face up with one hand on your jaw as the other pulls his boxers down. Your mouth waters from the sight of his cock springing out, the angry red tip hitting your cheek.
“If I stuff my cock down your throat then maybe you’d shut the fuck up, learn your lesson, and think before you speak. Huh, slut?” He strokes his length a few times, letting his precum lube his cock.
He nudges the tip against your lips, signaling you to open your mouth. He releases a long, guttural moan when you wrap your lips around him as he pushes his length further and further, your mouth feeling so warm and wet. Jungkook initiates the pace as he starts to rock his hips steadily. A sudden gush of tears escapes your eyes when he shoves past your gag reflex, whining as your throat struggles to take in his big cock. 
“Choke.”
Jungkook doesn’t wipe the tears off of your face like he used to, this time letting them flow and drip down your jaw. Your pussy clenches every time he thrusts forwards, feeling yourself get wetter and more aroused from the noises he makes. He twitches whenever your throat contracts, feeling it tighten and squeezes his cock so good.
“Do you like this, baby girl?” he smiles sadistically, “You like being throat fucked?” Jungkook knows you can’t answer so he continues to torment you, “I like you better when your mouth is stuffed with daddy’s cock. Much more useful than being an undisciplined, rude slut.”
You shut your eyes while you slack your jaw, trying to take all of him the best that you can. He grabs a bunch of your hair, pulling at your scalp, the pain making you kick your legs repeatedly. While he snaps his hips, thrusting in and out, Jungkook watches how your saliva drips down from to your chin that makes a whole mess of your face.
Jungkook finally gains some sort of empathy, pulling his dick out to let you breathe. You emit a harsh, rugged exhale. He lowers himself until his face was directly parallel to yours, “Why was he touching you like that?” His eyes scans your poor, messy self, eyes puffy with your hair all over the place. 
You sniff, “He’s just a f-friend!”
He wipes the saliva on the corner of your mouth using his thumb, “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Hm? Doesn’t he know that you’re mine? Even if he’s your goddamn friend, he doesn’t need to touch you like that.” His voice somehow turned soft, a bit more like his natural talking voice. He shakes his head whilst staring directly at your weary eyes, “And what if I wasn’t there, huh? What if he did something to you that I wouldn’t like?”
“Are…” you tilt your head, trying to lighten up the situation in hopes that he’ll go easy on you. You start to giggle, “Are you jealous, daddy?”
You didn’t know that it was a bad move until his face immediately hardens, raising an eyebrow up. He scoffs, “You think I would be punishing you like this if your actions took a toll on me, Y/n?” he stands up from the bed and walks over to the bedside table, opening the drawer, “Lay on your tummy. I won’t say it again.”
Jungkook grabs the remote control vibrator from the box of toys the two of you had been collecting. You certainly love your toys, he knows that, but it’s a completely different situation if he uses them to torture you. It’s better for him that you can’t see what he’s doing, bringing your anticipations up for what’s about to come. He turns the toy on, your breath immediately hitching when you hear the buzzing sound. The hot pink, egg-like looking toy with a slender tail vibrates against his palm.
“Daddy? Wha…what are you gonna do with tha—” Your words painfully got cut off when he plunges the toy inside your pussy, the vibrations instantly resonating throughout your core and lower abdomen. You sobbed loudly, the rope tightening around your wrists whenever you tried to struggle away. “Oh my god!” your back arches, feeling your eyes rolling to the back of your head, “Daddy!”
He walks to the other side of the room to go sit on the plush loveseat, twiddling with the remote on his right hand. He doesn’t hesitate to crank the setting up, noticing how your ass trembles and wiggles. Your mouth drops open while you feel an immense tingling sensation down there, moaning and shuddering on the bed. 
Jungkook wraps his hand around his cock and starts to pump slowly, observing how your cute little figure trembles and makes a mess of the sheets. He notices the way your pussy clenches around the toy so tightly, and how your cunt never stopped dripping in arousal. 
He teases his swollen tip with his thumb as he turns the toy’s setting up another notch. The smirk grows on his face from the noises you make. He was addicted to the sight of you right now; your hips shuddering as you try to escape all of the vast ecstasy, the stockings you wear making you look as adorable as ever – if he had a camera he would definitely take a picture of you.
“Daddy, p-please – I’m gonna cum!” you sob, chewing on your swollen bottom lip. That was his cue to put the setting to the highest level. Within a flash, your spill your cum down your pussy and onto the bed, ruining the sheets as your body contorts, hands balling into tight fists. Your orgasm feels like you gushed a whole waterfall, cumming so hard while your hips involuntarily lifts up off of the bed. 
He continues to fuck his hand, staring at your sweaty, hot body with hooded eyes while he groans darkly. His cock was rock solid and was also begging for a release, but he knows to control himself. Jungkook hears your sobs get louder and louder, knowing that the overstimulation was too much for you to handle.
He stands up and crawls back with you on the bed, his warm hands starting to caress your inner thighs.
“Da—” you cry, “daddy… t-too much…”
“Yeah?” he smirks before lifting your ass up until he was directly in front of your cunt. he smells your arousal and it caused shivers to run down his back. Without holding back, he wraps his mouth around your throbbing clit and starts to suck harshly on it. 
Jungkook was absolutely nasty to do this to you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel his tongue swirl around your bud, flicking and sucking at the same time. You can’t even comprehend the pain and pleasure that as going through your body right now, for it was all too much. “A-Aawwh shit,” you breathe, “D-Daddy, I can’t... oh m-my god!” 
The combination of the powerful buzzing vibrator inside you, plus his mouth on your clit caused another strong climax to wash throughout your system. You flail your arms behind your back as your body can’t seem to keep still. Jungkook holds your hips in place as he licks your pussy clean of your cum. He grunts from the way your legs were quivering after forcing another orgasm out of you. 
“Taste so fuckin’ delicious,” he says after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “What a good little pussy.” 
Finally, he pulls on the tail and the toy plops out with a wet sound. Though your chest doesn’t stop heaving up and down, your system is still riled up from the strong orgasms you just had.
“What will you say, baby girl, hm?”
You perk your head up from the sudden question. Your mind quickly wanders for an answer but was quickly distracted when you feel him squeeze your tender ass cheeks. 
Leaning down to your ear, he whispers with an awful smirk, “Say ‘thank you daddy’.” His monotone voice sent shivers all throughout your body, “Say thank you for letting you cum. I would’ve stopped the toy and edged you when you were about to orgasm to further your punishment, but glad I didn’t, right baby?”
“Thank…” your cheeks start to heat up, “Thank you for l-letting me cum, daddy.”
“Mm, good girl. I just had to get a taste of your sweet cunt after seeing you shake and tremble like that. Such a good, pretty little girl.” 
He was actually supposed to reward you after this. That was just his initial plan, until he is distracted by your phone suddenly ringing from the other side of the room. He quirks a brow up and starts heading to where your bag was placed, rummaging through it to get the device that interrupted the moment.
He reads the caller ID.  
Jungkook is dead quiet as he reaches back to you until he takes a seat on your thighs. His silence further builds up your anxiousness, your gut twisting and turning after you hear him groan underneath his breath. “Daddy?” whispering, you tilt your head to the side to figure out what he was doing.
“Y/n! I’m so glad you picked up the phone,” Jimin speaks in a rush, “I was so worried about what happened. Are you and Jungkook okay?” He rolls his eyes and doesn’t hesitate to put the phone on loudspeaker, placing the device in front of you so that you can see who was calling.
Jimin’s voice unsettled you, leaving your body in a state of shock, humiliation, and awkwardness. You furiously shake your head, lips pursed in a straight, pungent line – making it known to Jungkook that you didn’t want to talk to him. Why can’t he just hang up?!
“Hello? Y/n?” As Jimin worries from the other side of the line, you quietly mewl when you feel him poking the tip of his dick right up against your dripping wet entrance, sliding the head up and down your soaked slit slowly to torture you. “Answer him,” Jungkook growls from behind, “Talk to him as I fuck your tight little pussy.”
“Y/n, do you hear me?” Jimin asks once again, and this time you pick up the courage to reply.
“Y-Yeah,” your voice strains, closing your eyes as you try your best not to moan out loud as Jungkook pushes the head in, feeling your walls flutter around his thick girth. “I hear – oohh – I hear you.”
While inching his cock further and further, he grasps your bounded wrists in one hand, as the other firmly holds onto your waist. He struggles to keep quiet, only releasing quick little grunts here and there as he slowly thrusts his hips. Your body squirms from the humiliating situation he has put you through, yet he holds you down.
“Hey, I’m really sorry about what happened earlier,” You notice the sad tone in Jimin’s voice, “I really didn’t mean to touch you like that, and I should’ve known better. You’re taken.”
“M-Mhmm—!” Jungkook shoves his length deeper and deeper, hit tip hitting your g-spot again and again, rougher and harder with each sharp thrust. Your eyes generate more tears, definitely making your nose a little bit stuffy while you struggle to breathe properly. Jungkook groans underneath his breath from how tight your pussy is after being teased and tortured.
Jimin continues with his apology, saying that he wants to personally apologize to Jungkook – but you weren’t listening anymore. You can’t! His words were going in one ear and out of the other because your mind only focuses on how his big, thick cock was tearing your cunt apart. With each outward stroke, your pussy keeps sucking him back in. He smirks from the way your pussy was gushing your arousal endlessly, soaking the sheets and making a mess of yourself.
As if everything can’t be humiliating enough, Jungkook blows a hard, loud spank on your ass, definitely not caring if it can be heard from the other end of the call. Gasping, you mewl from the stinging sensation but also worried if Jimin heard. Jungkook laughs menacingly, spanking your ass again.
“Y-Y/n?” Jimin says slowly, “What’s happening over there?”
“Nothing! I’m o-okay – mmngg shit,” your jaw drops when he fucks you faster and rougher all of the sudden, his balls starting to clap against your poor, throbbing clit. Jungkook feels impatient so he takes the phone back, puts it against his ear, and speaks for you. “Jimin!” he greets happily as if he’s not pounding your pussy until you break, “Don’t worry about Y/n, she’s doing just great.”
How can he talk so steadily like that? Your teeth sink down on your bruised bottom lip again to stop you from moaning too loud. “But I’m trusting you, Jimin, not to touch my girl like that again, okay? I know you two are friends, sure – but there’s a limit. She has a boyfriend now.”
The possessiveness in his voice turns you on so much, not even expecting such a dark tone as he talks to him like that. Your arms start to hurt after being tied for too long, wrists getting sensitive as it keeps scratching against the rope.
“Yeah, okay, goodbye.” He finally hangs up, throws your phone somewhere on the floor. After that, he firmly grips your waist and changes your position with ease. He sits down on the bed, flips you around to make you straddle his cock.
His breath almost gets stuck in his throat from the way you looked. His hands immediately flies to cup your head, thumbs wiping your tears away from your cheeks as you look down at his with lustful eyes. “Baby girl,” he whispers, eyes raking your body up and down while you don’t stop bouncing on his cock, “Keep crying. I wanna see you get ruined on my big cock.”
He pulls you closer by wrapping his right hand around your neck, squeezing tightly, as his other hand guides your hips up and down. Your hard nipples slightly graze against his chest, adding more pleasure than you already can take.
“I’m g-gonna cum,” you grit, eyes drooping, “I’m gonna fucking cum again, daddy.”
He chuckles and nods his head. He can’t stay angry at you for too long. He can’t wait to provide you the aftercare that you deserve after this. He helps you to your orgasm by meeting your thrusts, fucking his cock into you while he brings a hand down to rub your clit with vigor. Your moans were getting louder, higher in pitch, as you can feel the oh-so-familiar tightness in your stomach again. You throw your head back, hands trying to pry themselves out of the rope. Thankfully, he gives you the benefit of the doubt and finally starts undoing the knot, unwrapping your wrists so that they can finally be set free. “Here you go princess,” he groans, “Ah ah, keep your arms still.”
Within a second of your hands being free, you quickly hug his sweaty body so tightly, pressing your cheeks against his shoulder, not only to have something to hold onto but to feel his comfort after a long time of being suppressed and denied from it. Jungkook laughs and kisses your shoulder, “I love you, Y/n.”
“Love y-you— awh god, thatfeelssogood!”
“Yeah?” he bites his lip, feeling the urge to tease you with his words for the hundredth time, “How good?” He attaches his mouth on your damp neck, sucking and biting on all of the sweet and tender spots that he knows you love. Trailing kisses all over, you were certain that he’ll leave marks all over your skin. Your body shivers when he uses his teeth to bite down on you, adding more to the buildup of your climax. “So g-good, daddy,” you whine, bouncing up and down harder, “Your big cock f-feels…feels so good inside my tight fucking pussy, daddy.”
Jungkook’s cock throbs from your unexpected words, gasping a little with a cocky smirk, “Mmm, when did you learn how to talk like that, huh?” a spank lands on your right, tender ass cheek, “Such lewd words coming out of that pretty mouth.”
Your mind starts to feel dizzy, almost to the edge of blacking out as your orgasm overpowers your body. He grunts from the way your walls were clenching around him so firmly, using his dick to your own good. Wrapping his arms around you tighter, he forces you to stay still on his cock while letting you ride out your high. “There we go, baby, there we go. Cum for me,” he insinuates, “Fucking hell, such a good, pretty girl for daddy.” He lifts your chin up with one hand, trying your best to make eye-contact with him but your tearful eyes feel too heavy. “Cumming so hard, oh my fucking god darling.”
Almost seeing black and white spots, your mind goes into a frenzy for you have no thoughts but the overwhelming sensation of your climax taking over your body. Jungkook moans as he lays you back down on the bed, bringing himself to his high. With your body shivering from the high sensitivity, Jungkook doesn’t stop.
His thrusts were sloppy and his pace becomes unsteady, moans getting louder. His body tenses and goes still inside of you, trapping your small body in his as he blows his load. He fills your cunt up with his cum, painting your walls in his seed. You can feel him twitch while you claw your hands on his back, trembling.
Jungkook mutters a series of curse words as your pussy squeezes his cock so hard, milking him properly until the very last drop of cum. After a little while, he pulls his dick out and he sees his cum leaking out of your pulsating little hole and dripping onto the bed. Licking his lips from the hot sight, he caresses your inner thighs as he tries to calm you down.
“Deep breaths, sweetheart. Deep, slow breaths for me.” He hovers back on top of you as he places his right arm underneath your head for support, his other hand gently stroking your side. All the anger, all the controlling and dominating aura that he previously had ten seconds ago immediately fades as he takes the role to comfort you the best that he can. He wipes your cheeks clean with the back of his hand, almost looking down at you with a slight pout. “Baby girl, look at me, hm?” Jungkook whispers gently, “Look at me.”
Once you do so, he feels himself almost collapsing from the poor, worn-out look that was embedded on your little face. “Oh, sweetie,” he sighs, “I’m so sorry.”
“N-No,” you slowly shake your head, still breathless, “Don’t say…”
“I should’ve, fuck—” Jungkook tilts his head to the side in dismay, feeling almost frustrated in himself, “I should’ve fucking stopped, look at you baby.” He holds your hand, gives your bruised wrist a wet, long kiss.
“Kook, I’m okay,” you giggle, a hint of tiredness in your voice, “I l-loved it.”
“Are you sure? Baby girl do you remember what I told you? If you ever feel too uncomfortable, or pain that you couldn’t bear anymore, or if you just want me to stop completely, what will you say?”
Perhaps this was one of the best things you love about Jungkook. His duality. One minute he’s rough and would dominate the fuck out of you, and the next minute he’s treating you like his princess.
“I’ll say my safe word.”
“Good,” he kisses your lips once, smiling down at you, “always remember that.”
You were awfully thankful that he’s the type to always shower you in kisses after a whole round of sex. Always caring about your well-being, that’s what he loves to do. Jungkook has cleaned himself in the bathroom first before he can handle and take care of you. He comes out of the bathroom dressed only with a pair of gray sweatpants with a damp towel and one of his t-shirt in his hand.
Kneeling before you on the bed, he starts to gently wipe your inner thighs and genitalia with the cloth. It was ticklish on the spot of your inner thighs, releasing a giggle as you try to move away from him. He smirks, grasping your leg down. “Tickles?” he grins at you.
“Turn around, little one. Let me massage your back.”
Your heart beats happily at that. But once you followed his command, his eyes immediately fly down to your ass. He hikes up the skirt that you still had on a bit higher, and he sees his handprints imprinted on your precious, delicate skin. “Holy shit,” he breathes out. Your body twitches when he carefully lays a hand down. “Sorry for this, little one. Guess you aren’t sitting for a couple of days, huh?”
Hiding your face in your arms, you quietly squeal, his words having an effect on you. “I g-guess so.”
Jungkook proceeds with his mission to massage your back, using his big hands to his advantage to knead your skin with just the right amount of pressure, massaging your arms and shoulders, pressing down on your lower back. Little groans emit from your mouth, enjoying the warmth of his hands. Your eyes eventually close, feeling that you were eventually going to fall asleep from how relaxing it is.
“Want some tea, darling?” he asks.
“Mm, no thank you. I’m a little sleepy…”
Your mouth curves up into a grin when he starts peppering kisses all over your back as well, moving your hair to one side. Jungkook, too, was smiling. He can’t even figure out how he got so lucky with you.
“You wanna nap, Y/n?”
“Mhm,” you nod.
“Okay, let’s get you in this shirt first. C’mon sweetie, flip back around for me.”
He holds onto the hem of your skirt and tugs it down, throwing it somewhere on the floor. His shirt reaches almost on your knee after slipping it on. Soon, he lays down beside you and starts spooning your body. It was easy for him to enclose yourself in his warmth, for his limbs were obviously bigger than yours. “Let’s take a rest and clean everything up later, okay?”
Although you didn’t reply.
“Baby?” he tilts your head to make you look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Kook, I-uh…I wanna say sorry for what happened earlier—”
“Shh, shh, settle down now, sweetheart. I’m not angry about that anymore,” he gives you a beaming smile, his dimples peeking through. Oh, to swim in someone’s dimples…
“Don’t worry about it. I love you, Y/n. More than this fucking world.”
“Impossible!” giggling, you eventually squirm around him because you know for a fact that he’ll hug you tighter.
He did.
“Nothing’s impossible when you’re mine – my girl.”
God, you can never take a break with him and his impeccable word choices. You feel your cheeks heat up, shying away from him that caused him to laugh in amusement a little.
“I love you too, Kook,” your heart says genuinely. Jungkook pulls you closer and makes you rest your head on his arm. “Cozy? Let’s take a rest, baby. You’ve had a long day today, you did well. You might be sore afterwards but I’ll be right here when you wake up.”  The only thing you can remember after that was the gentle kiss he placed on your cheek, and the feeling of love and comfort in the air that encloses both of you. 
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“You know, Jungkook,” Taehyung speaks while munching on his Cap’n Crunch cereal, watching Jungkook come back to their apartment after driving you back to your own building. “You’re fucking lucky I was out partying. If not I would’ve…” Jungkook rolls his eyes when Taehyung fakes a gagging sound, “I w-would’ve thrown up hearing the two of you.”
“Funny,” he says blandly while heading towards the cupboards to make himself his own bowl of cereal.
Taehyung walks to his side, “Aren’t you and Y/n together for almost a year now? I don’t know much about relationships, but don’t you think it’s time for you guys to have a place of your own?”
Jungkook chuckles, heading towards the living room as he sits on the old green couch with his cereal on one hand. “So you’re kicking me out, Tae?”
“Well yeah, maybe I am, asshole.”
The youngest abruptly turns his head to him with a look of confusion, “Wait, really?”
Taehyung smirks, “Yup! I’m sick of you bringing Y/n here just to fuck, and not even let her hang out with me!”
Hang out with him? Since when was Taehyung interested in her? After a little moment of silence, Jungkook finally thinks of a reply, “What do you even wanna do with her? Also most of the time you’re either out getting drunk or locking yourself up in your room playing video games.”
“Threesome.”
Jungkook almost spits out the mouthful of milk and cereal.
“What the fuck—”
“Let’s have a threesome together.”
“No fucking way, bro.” Jungkook scoffs, pointing a finger at him, “We are not doing that.”
Taehyung was having the time of his life teasing Jungkook. He stands up in front of him, blocking his view of the TV. “I’m not having a threesome just to see you naked, cunt,” slowly, his mouth forms a smirk, “I wanna see Y/n nak—”
“Don’t even think about finishing that, Taehyung. I’m not fucking joking around.”
“Okay, shit, chill man,” he laughs, watching how Jungkook rolls his eyes. “And here I am thinking that you’re kinky and open-minded.”
Taehyung just loves to get into his nerves.
“I am,” Jungkook says in all seriousness, looking directly at his eyes. “But you know how I am with her. How selfish I can be. Other people will be fine with this, sure, but her body is for my eyes only, Tae. You can fuck anyone you like but not my girl.”
Taehyung sighs, walking away as he throws his hand in the air, “Fine, fine, whatever.”
Jungkook crosses his legs together, leaning back into the couch as he closes his eyes. The fact that he just had to put that image into his mind – someone else fucking his girl – he just can’t do it. He can be too possessive of your body and he wants it only for him.
“But if your girl ever wants two cocks to play with one day, hit me up.”
“If she wants two cocks then we’ll use a fucking dildo. Shut your ass up or else I’m gonna beat the fuck outta you,” Jungkook warns with a menacing chuckle.
Although Taehyung isn’t bothered by it, he fakes being frightened, “Oooohh, scary! Don’t hit me daddy!”
“Yep, that’s it.” Jungkook places the bowl down on the couch before abruptly standing up. Taehyung runs away while laughing like a madman with Jungkook following behind him. His roommate ends up locking himself inside his room where Jungkook can’t come in. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He says in the middle of laughter.
“You’re fucking hideous, you know that?” Jungkook crosses his arms.
“Tell me something I don’t know, Jeon.”
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When Jungkook turned nineteen, he remembered asking his mother when a man should introduce his girlfriend to his parents.
His mother, heart filled with genuine compassion, replied with; “When you are fully committed, and when you know for a fact that you will be spending the rest of your life with her – that’s when you let her eat at our table. So be very mindful of your feelings, Jungkookie. Remember this when you grow up, alright? I know you didn’t believe in long-lasting love when you were younger, but trust me when I say that it truly depends on the person.”
It was clear that Jungkook’s romantic side definitely came from his parents.
And fast-forward to the present, here you are sitting at their dining table, meeting his parents for the very first time. 
“So, Y/n,” Jungkook’s mother beams from the other side of the table while passing her husband more rice for his bibimbap, “How did you and Jungkook meet?”
“Mom,” Jungkook chuckles, “Haven’t I told you that a hundred times already?”
You blush from his words, trying your best not to look down in shyness. Though you feel your boyfriend’s right hand rests on your knee to ease you up.
“I know! But I just want to hear it from Y/n’s point of view! Who knows, you might be hiding some details!”
Before you can speak, his dad talks before you, “I was actually there at the time,” he smiles at you, “I think you should thank me for making Jungkook talk to you!”
“Hun, please let Y/n talk—”
Jungkook grins, “I think I would’ve talked to Y/n whether or not you told me so, dad.”
“Let the girl talk!” his mom balls her hand into a fist and pounds on the table.       
You busted out a laugh, quickly covering your mouth as you shook your head in disbelief. You’ve never encountered such a fun, happy family like this. This was your first time being introduced to someone’s parents, and truthfully, you wanted them to be your last.
“So, um,” you take a glance at Jungkook before continuing as if asking for permission first. He smiles down at you and nods his head, feeling his hand squeeze your knee. “Jeon’s Kitchen was actually a favorite place of mine! And of course, it’s still is—” you beam at his father, “It was raining very hard so I decided to stop by to eat some food before work.”
“Brown coffee and banana bread, yep, I remember that!” His dad proudly says.
“That’s correct, Mr. Jeon,” you giggle, “I sat alone and waited for the order until Jungkook here suddenly bursts into the café, all drenched from the rain!” You turn your gaze at him with creased eyes from the way you were smiling as you talk, “If I remember correctly, his car broke down and he had nothing to do, so he decided to help Mr. Jeon with work, is that right?”
Jungkook responds with a hum, staring amusingly into your glimmering eyes that were full of love.
“Until Mr. Jeon told Jungkook to keep me company! So yeah, that’s where we started talking.”
Of course, you had to leave out the fact that you had such an intimidating first impression of their son. You recall how hard his stare was as he talked to you, and how he literally made you blush so easily just by his handsome smirk (that until now you couldn’t get used to!). He carried such a strong aura, even up to this day.
“After that, well, we exchanged numbers and everything went from there!”
Before Jungkook drove you to his parent’s house so that they can finally meet you, you were an absolute nervous wreck. Overthinking that what if you say something embarrassing? What if you humiliate yourself in front of them? You were driven to have a good impression on them, which Jungkook founded adorable. Of course, he reassured you, saying, “They already love you from all of the stories I’ve told, baby.”  
And he was right. His parents never would’ve thought that a girl like you would walk into his life. You’re a blessing for their son.
Jungkook doesn’t sway his eyes off of you as you continue to chat with his parents, telling them your goals and dreams for the future. He watches the way your mouth tilts into the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, lips tinted with lipstick that was just begging to be kissed. He also catches the way your head slightly tilts as you talk, oh – he can’t forget how your knees were nervously jumping! With his hand slowly caressing your knee up to your thigh, he reminds you to calm down.
His breath hitches up a slight bit when you unexpectedly hold his hand under the table. He feels how cold your hand was so it was good for you to take his own warmth. Using his thumb, he strokes your skin delicately, and you instantly feel much better.
When the time is right and when he garners enough money, he will buy a house for the two of you. It doesn’t have to be fancy or anything elegant, but enough to keep you happy and contented – he knows you’ll understand that. Needless to say, he’s excited about the future he’s going to have with you. His mind wanders to the point of your first anniversary, the second anniversary, even up until marriage and having kids. It’s a huge stretch, yes, but he’d rather spend his life alone than without you. 
If his past self can read his mind right now, he’d definitely laugh.
He can’t wait to live his whole life with you by his side. You already have all the qualities he’s been looking in a person, and there’s no way in hell he’s going to leave you anytime soon. 
His mother’s voice cracks him from his thoughts, “Y/n’s such a pretty girl. So amusing to look at, too!” She gawks at you with excited, wide eyes. Her eyes reminded you of Jungkook, the same big and round ones, “Next time when you come to visit us, let me teach you my signature shrimp fried rice recipe, okay? Are you allergic to shrimp, Y/n?”
“Nope! I love shrimp!”
“That’s great!” his mom claps, “Jungkook, thanks for bringing Y/n here with us. She’s so wonderful.”
Shaking your head, you try to take her compliments as much as you can but of course, your bashfulness takes over.
Your boyfriend removes his hand from yours, only lifts it up so that his arm can rest at the backrest of the chair while he starts to stroke your head lovingly. The corners of his lips tilts up to form a smile, he feels as if fireworks were going off of his whole body, for he was so in love with you. How can a person love someone this much? 
He mutters the next sentence underneath his breath, thus only he and his pounding heart can hear; “That’s my girl.”
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The End.
Thank you so much for all of the amazing support for Crybaby! I never expected so much love and anticipation in the first place. I wrote Crybaby without any serious plot with a ‘tragedy/problem’ in mind, for it was only supposed to be a oneshot haha! Crybaby was mainly about the fact that Jungkook has dacryphilia and that’s it. But thanks to the support I’ve gotten, I made a part two and three! It’s sorta sad to end this series because I know a lot of people (including me) love this couple soo much! But they’ll make an appearance in short drabbles or even kinky hours. I’m sorry for the sudden ending, but this will not be the end for them!
Please tell me what you think by commenting or sending an ask, I really love to read your reactions!
Please stay safe, especially in these times. Remember that you are loved, and please be happy. I love you!
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minniepetals · a year ago
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— summary: running away from your master is never easy so you deem yourself this will be the last time if you are fatefully brought back to his hold again. so what happens when you stumble upon seven men who says they won’t bring you back? what happens when they promise you their love and care instead?
— pairing: bts x reader
— genre: angst, fluff, hybrid!reader, rich!bts
— word count: 9.7k
— warnings: mentions of abuse, running away from an abusive household, hybrid cruelty, hurt and comfort
— rec music: bts - heartbeat
Soaked and damped, your hair wet with a sweet smell of cherry blossom fragrance as the pretty tiny bubbles surround you. In the room the lights are bright and you feel a little shy as you sit inside the pretty porcelain bathtub while his fingers run through your hair in a gentle manner.
You have never felt this kind of touch before. It's so sweet and gentle and just...kind.
Oh so kind. 
You purr when he scratch along your kitten ears and Jimin chuckles lightly as he goes on, cleaning the area around it.
"It's a little torn," he frowns at the sight, fingers careful not to brush around it so that he doesn't inflict more pain. He's sure you've been through enough. He knows you've been through enough. "Does your neck hurt when you move around?" He asks gently, noting at the gash that circles it. You have cuts and bruises almost everywhere and something about that makes his stomach drop while his heart yearns for you.
"It does," you say in a small voice so sweet and careful. He doesn't know why anyone would ever want to hurt such a poor little thing.
"Where else does it hurt?"
Your old bandages were thrown in the trash, left discarded for you to never see and be reminded of the sad memories again. They weren't fixed up in the greatest way but what else could you do? You had no experience with those things, he can tell.
"It's okay, everything else are just scratches," you tell him and Jimin pats you gently on the head.
"You don't have to worry about asking too much, dear one, we're all here to help." You turn yourself slightly to meet his gentle eyes with your own that are painful and yearning for love and care. His heart hurts a bit at the sight so he reaches for your hand through the wet bubbles. "If it hurts, tell us. You won't be bothering anyone."
Your lips form into a small pout, eyes a little confused at his kind gesture. "But...my last master always told me I should never ask for help."
Jimin frowns. "No baby, it won't be like that anymore I promise you."
"It...won't?" You tilt your head just a little because it'll hurt the gash around your neck so he goes to hold your head and allow it to return to its original position. "You won't..bring me back?"
"Oh dear, of course not."
"R-really?" You're almost afraid, too afraid that if you let yourself trust in his kindness, it will backfire on you. What if he's lying? What if he becomes tired of you? What if he comes to find you annoying and brings you back? What will be the consequences then?
You're too afraid to think of the punishments that will happen. You're sure it's something way beyond your own imagination. What if this time when you return, you really won't ever see the light ever again? What if he starves you for weeks? Months? What if he hurts you even more? Or worse, what if he leaves you to...to die?
"This..." you hesitate and he sees the tears already swimming in your eyes. Your fingers hold onto the edge of the bathtub, gripping against it tightly, while your eyes cast away from him and towards the tiles of the bathroom floor. "This isn't the first time."
"No?" You shake your head and had forgotten about the pain on your neck so it hurts you and Jimin lets out a little gasp. "Careful sweetie, you're still in pain."
"I..I-I'm scared." Maybe you shouldn't have told a human this but what difference would it make? He knows anyway just by your tears alone. "I'm so scared."
"We won't bring you back, love," Jimin promises you as he lightly runs his forefinger along your jawline until it reaches your chin. "We won't bring you to the shelter or anywhere you wouldn't want." He carefully allows himself to tilt your head up. Carefully. Because he doesn't want to put you through any more pain. Your skin is soft and wet from the bath, the bubbles covering your shoulders and down so that he cannot see anything else below it but your collarbone peeks out just slightly. It's soft and pink.
Just like those pretty lips of yours. It's glossy. Pink and glossy and looks oh so sweet.
"We'll even keep you safe in here if you want to stay."
You blink for a second. "You'll let me stay?"
"Of course," he hums.
"Even if it means..." your cheeks blush as you bite your lower lip, small figure shrinking for a moment. "Even if it means..forever?"
Jimin smiles and you think it's just a kind gesture he's showing you to show appreciation for the fact that you wish to stay but that his answer would be no. They're always no's. A soft smile before whispering the reluctant reply and you're left to fear for where you will go.
A shelter, a pound.
Either way, you find yourself back in your owner's home and he rewards you with severe punishments. It is never fun but perhaps this is your destiny. If Jimin says no then you will give up. This will be your last run. You won't run away anymore even if it means you will never receive hope and kindness because it lasts for just a little while.
These kind gestures are sweet but the more you have it, the more you understand that it can never last forever. They never do. Because the next thing you know, you're waking up and returning to that dreaded mansion.
"Yes baby."
You stop breathing. You stop breathing.
"Even if it means forever."
You don't know why but those words itself hurts you even more than when the humans that have told you no.
"I'm not..I-I'm not always a good girl," you tell him.
"None of us are," he replies.
"I'm a mess."
He hums. "Me too."
"I'll always be seeking for attention. Loud noises frighten me. I-I get scared very easily. I can be a brat. There are so many things I wish to do and wish to wear. I-I'm not a good person. I'm very selfish."
"Oh baby," he pouts, "