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btssmutgalore · 2 days ago
BICKER ‖ six
Out of all the places in the world, you run into Taehyung at your friend's party.
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⤑ word count: 9.6k ⤑ genre: angst, enemies to lovers, lack of proper communication tbh, smut (fingering, blowjob), dirt talk ⤑ rating: 18+
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The trip home was a mess. Everyone made your life a living hell by trying to hook you up with Taehyung every chance they could get. The worst part is that it started from the very second you got in the van, which was very early. So, Taehyung was being shoved down your throat partially from the second you woke up, and not in a fun way.
Of course, none of your friends knew what had happened the night before. You obviously weren’t going to tell everyone how Taehyung turned your offer for sex down like that and left you lying half-naked in bed, full of himself. It was too embarrassing to mention and you were frankly really annoyed by it, the more you thought about it. Taehyung could have at least given you his number when you asked for it, but he chose to play hard to get.
Hoseok still wasn’t feeling the best and, because of Yoongi’s reckless driving, he threw up in the van, which quickly killed the mood, luckily for you. The plans to stop by different places fell through because you were trying to get home as quickly as possible so Hoseok could get some rest. Thankfully, this meant that you’d spend less time with the group, giving them less time to hype Taehyung up and try to set you up.
You did talk to Taehyung for a while, but nothing personal was mentioned. You had to note that he was trying his best to be nice to you and he didn’t throw a single insult your way, which was a huge improvement. But, he didn’t try to flirt or anything like that, so you wouldn’t exactly call it a win. Besides, it wasn’t that easy to forget how he turned you down the night before. You could bet he felt really good about himself.
As soon as you got back home, it felt like the trip happened in some other life. Taehyung didn’t contact you, you didn’t contact him, and none of your friends mentioned anything about it. It was like you made the whole thing up, but everything was too real for that, especially the shame you felt when you remember how Taehyung just walked out on you.
The worst part about it was that you couldn’t fucking stand Taehyung before the trip and now you thought about him more often than not, and you couldn’t understand why.
Did you like Taehyung? Fuck yes.
Did you want to date him? Probably not. You weren’t even sure.
You were thinking that since you hadn’t seen him in a week, but you were certain he’d find a way to reel you back in as soon as you laid eyes on him—you just didn’t think it would be so soon and so unexpected.
It was the night of the infamous party at Daesun’s. Jongho was going to be there, clearly, but the fact that Sophia and Jungkook would too was what made you go in the first place.
If you found an excuse for not showing up, you’d feel like you were letting Daesun down and she was the persistent type. You weren’t exactly close, but you often hung out with her and Sophia, so you didn’t want to disappoint her.
Knowing that the lovebirds would be there provided you with a perfect escape plan—you’d hang out with them for a while and thus avoid being left along with Jongho. You knew those two would leave early because they valued their alone time more than parties. So, when they left, you’d go too, and avoid any awkwardness with Jongho while not seeming like an unsupportive friend.
The last person you expected to see there was Taehyung, but that’s exactly who you noticed the second Daesun showed you into the living room. You weren’t exactly early, which meant that most of the guests were already there, but your gaze flew to Taehyung the second you walked into that room. Locking eyes with him made your heart drop to your stomach. You hadn’t seen him in a while and you hadn’t heard from him, so being in the same room with him made you feel excited, for the lack of a better word.
But then you remembered that he probably had an ulterior motive for being there and your mood instantly changed. Taehyung definitely knew you were going to be at this party. He couldn’t have texted and let you know he was coming?
“What’s he doing here?” You asked Daesun, wondering why your question made it sound like you hated the dude. You didn’t, you just weren’t sure how Taehyung got invited and why nobody thought to inform you he was coming, not even Taehyung himself.
“Isn’t he hot?” Daesun asked and you hoped she wouldn’t try to make a move on Taehyung in front of you. Despite your rocky relationship with him, you didn’t want to witness your acquaintance try to get with him. Even worse, you didn’t want to witness her succeeding after you so spectacularly failed. “Sophia came with him.”
Sophia? That traitor!
You made a mental note to tell her she should have informed you about this, but then you remembered that you hadn’t even discussed Taehyung with her after the trip. Because you were so annoyed with all of them for teasing you about it so much, you asked her not to mention Taehyung until you did it first, so she kept her mouth shut.
Ha, it served you right! It was your fault you didn’t know he’d be coming. If you weren’t so adamant about him not talking about Taehyung, Sophia would have told you all about it.
Since it was expected of you, you walked over to greet your best friend and him, and so you found out that Jungkook wasn’t feeling well and Taehyung was kind enough to take his place.
Kind, your ass!
You knew he had a hidden motive to be there—Jongho. Whether he was willing to admit it or not, you were sure Taehyung was curious about Jongho. You’d even go so far as to say that it hurt him a bit to hear that you thought Jongho was a nice guy and that Sophia was so into the idea of you two dating. After all, why would he react the way he did and get upset with you over saying Jongho is a nice guy?
You didn’t think highly of yourself and you’d never for a second think Taehyung would go through all this trouble just to get to see you. No, you knew he could be petty when he wanted to, and showing up here when he knew Jongho would come was exactly what you expected of him.
Daesun came over to ask Sophia to help her get more drinks from the kitchen, and you had a feeling it was a setup so she could get more information out of Sophia about Taehyung. You couldn’t blame Daesun, not when he looked that attractive. Something was really wrong with you if you felt that way about Taehyung, but you couldn’t help it: he decided to wear a loose white shirt and tight jeans. The outfit paired with that cologne of his made him ten times more attractive than he already was to you.
Or maybe that was the fact that he turned you down. Sophia was probably right—you were so attracted to Taehyung because he showed you that you couldn’t have him whenever you felt like it, and that messed with your ego.
Either way, you were painfully into Taehyung and you didn’t want to let it show.
“Why exactly are you here?” You turned to Taehyung as soon as the two of your friends left the room and you had some privacy. Well, there were other people there, but you didn’t care whether they heard you two talking.
“To see you,” he admitted without even blinking, and you could tell he was lying. The smirk on his face gave him away immediately. “Why else?”
“To see if I’ll mess with Jongho?” You cocked an eyebrow up suggestively.
“I wouldn’t stoop that low,” Taheyung placed his hand over his heart as if he was shocked by your assumption, but his tone was playful. “He’s a good guy, after all. Would never even dream about hurting his feelings!”
“Seriously, don’t say anything to the guy, we should keep him out of it,” you lowered your voice and glared at Taehyung, hoping to show him that messing with Jongho was really out of the question.
You were already feeling bad about the way you treated him—you hadn’t even texted him back, and Jongho deserved more than that. You didn’t want Taehyung to say something mean to him because he wasn’t a part of this thing of yours, whatever it was. The guy didn’t know what was going on and it was best to keep it that way. You weren’t sure how exactly to tell him that you weren’t interested in anything with him but you were interested in Taehyung, even though he annoyed the hell out of you every time you saw each other.
“Why would I say anything?” Taehyung feigned surprise but you could read right through him.
“To get back at me?” You suggested, knowing very well he’d be capable of that just to make fun of you. The fact that he even showed up here was already enough.
“For what?” He smirked and you knew he was already enjoying this whole thing. “For wanting to fuck me?”
“Okay, you’re doing the most,” you said and then downed your drink, deciding to stop giving him the time of day.
“I’m not some loser who will haunt every guy who likes you, ok?” Taehyung asked, finally sounding serious. Mad, even. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he actually cared about your opinion.
The fact that he didn’t even contact you since you came back home was enough for you to understand that he wasn’t serious about any of it. It was just like you thought: he was bored and wanted to fuck. When he realized that you didn’t have the highest opinion of him, Taehyung got offended and did everything he could to get you to want him, all with the goal of turning you down. Sadly, it worked.
“Then why did you come here?”
“Because Sophia needed some company and I’m still Jungkook’s friend,” Taehyung said, making you feel completely stupid. Of course, it was a nice thing to do. Besides, why would he turn down free booze and the chance to meet more women? Daesun was clearly into him, so he had that going already and he’d been at the party for 10 minutes at that point. “But also, I think I’ll enjoy your interaction with Jongho immensely, seeing as he’s too good of a guy and all.”
His comment made you chuckle, mostly because he had you in the first half and you were actually starting to believe Taehyung wasn’t there because he wanted to see Jongho. But no, he was curious about it, you could tell.
“You know what? Two can play the game,” you said with a shrug. “See you!”
With that, you turned around and left, greeting some friend of Daesun’s you knew vaguely. If Taehyung was going to act like that and try to make fun of you for being at the same party as Jongho, you could just ignore him. You offered him a chance to give you his number and you went over to talk to him when you didn’t have to, but he kept playing hard to get thinking it would get you to beg.
A while later, your worst fear came true—Jongho came over to say hi and Taehyung was right there, feet away from the two of you. Jongho went in for an awkward hug that lasted less than a second, but you caught Taehyung’s eyes on you and you just knew he was enjoying it from afar.
Thankfully, Jongho kept things friendly and didn’t mention anything between the two of you. You hoped he wouldn’t because you didn’t know how to let him down easily, especially not in front of other people.
Despite everything Sophia has told you about Jongho, you just couldn’t look at him that way. Yes, he was a sweet and respectful guy, but there was no chemistry. You could see the two of you being friends but after he expressed his interest in you, that wasn’t possible either. Maybe he’d start thinking of your friendship as something more with time and you didn’t want that burden, not again. That thing happened more than once, and it ended badly every time, with men accusing you of friend-zoning them even though you were always honest from the start about not having any kind of sexual interest in them.
But, Jongho didn’t seem like that type of guy. Sophia knew and liked him, so he couldn’t be such a drama queen without her knowing about it. He was also fun to talk to, so you spent a lot more time talking to him than you originally intended. But then again, what options did you have? You sure as hell weren’t going to go talk to Taehyung and Sophia.
After a while, Sophia decided to join you. When she did so, she gave you a look that told you she was there to help you get out of the situation, if you wanted to. Even though she was totally down with the idea of you and Jongho together, she decided to put you first and offered you a way out, which you greatly appreciated.
However, it wasn’t necessary right then—Jongho was actually telling a funny story about a trip he took last year and you wanted him to go on.
In the middle of the story, though, you started to wonder where Taehyung was now if Sophia was right there with you, and she was his only friend at the party. Maybe it was because you were worried about him being left all alone in a room with a bunch of strangers, or maybe it was simple curiosity, you couldn’t pinpoint it.
You turned around to locate him and it wasn’t difficult to do so—Taehyung was standing next to the window with a drink in his hand and Daesun all over him. They weren’t touching each other or anything like that, but she was giggling, and right when you looked at them, she touched his shoulder and leaned against it, laughing.
You knew how she flirted and this was exactly it.
Daesun was really obvious when she was trying to hook up with someone, and she was more than straightforward. Even Taehyung’s cockiness couldn’t compare to Daesun’s when she knew she wanted someone. So, you were sure Taehyung would get offered to go upstairs by the end of the night and something inside of you stung at the thought of him accepting the offer. You didn’t want him to hook up with Daesun of all people, especially not right in front of you.
While Jongho and Sophia laughed about something funny he said, your mind raced back to Taehyung. Did he really have to do this? First, he showed up to this party practically uninvited and admitted to coming because Jongho would be here. Then, he started flirting with the host right in front of you. The more time went by, the clearer it became that this whole thing was a game from the beginning, at least in his book.
Was this some sort of revenge? He’d get you back for turning him down back when you first met by getting you to like him and then fucking someone else right in front of you? If so, it was lame.
Instead of focusing on Taehyung being a jerk and flirting with someone right in front of you, you turned your attention back to the conversation with Jongho and Sophia, who were now talking about your trip, which immediately made you think of Taehyung again. It was impossible for you to focus on the conversation, so you excused yourself and went to the bathroom to have a minute to yourself.
Your behavior was really getting pathetic so you looked yourself in the mirror and told yourself to stop being a little bitch. Why were you even thinking about this fucking guy so much? It’s not like you cared about him.
This was the thing: you liked Taehyung.
Maybe because he was mean to you, maybe because he was a great kisser and there was chemistry, and maybe because he turned you down and you wanted his attention. Still, he didn’t seem to care about any of that right now—he seemed more than happy to be around Daesun.
So, instead of being angry about it, you had to go out there, talk to people, and then go home before getting into another bickering session with him.
And that’s exactly what you did.
When you walked back into the main room, you ran into Jimin, an old friend of yours.
“Of all the places in the world!” You said and went in for a hug, happy to see him there. You weren’t sure how Jimin was connected to anyone here, but you were more than excited about him being there. One more person you knew!
“Where have you been hiding?” Jimin asked as he inspected you from head to toe, nodding approvingly. “You look amazing! What’s your secret, still single?”
“Exactly,” you grinned and asked him to come to the kitchen with you so you could get a drink.
Jimin told you he was there with a girl who happened to be Daesun’s friend. They were going out clubbing afterward and his date just wanted to stop by and say hi, but she saw someone she used to be close with, so she was deep in conversation with them and Jimin was looking for someone to talk to, so you two kind of helped each other get through half of the night.
It was a lot easier not to focus on Taehyung a) when you weren’t in the same room, b) when you didn’t have to watch Daesun drool all over him, and c) when you had Jimin to talk to.
You weren’t even sure why you two weren’t that close anymore—work and school got in the way of your clubbing dates, and now you felt a bit too old for all of that. It was hard to keep up with Jimin’s lifestyle, but if he was dating someone, there was a chance he’d prefer to get coffee over partying.
When you two returned to the living room, you were more than disappointed to see that Taehyung and Daesun were still talking to each other, far away from other people. It was like they were lost in their own little bubble: she listened, all doe-eyed, and Taehyung was explaining something to her.
As if he could sense drama, Jimin asked you who the guy you were staring at was. “I know he’s someone.”
“That’s Jungkook’s annoying friend,” you informed Jimin, knowing he’d remember Taehyung if you described him like that. Besides, you were sure you never even mentioned him by name, but you’d most definitely mentioned how fucking annoying he was.
“Oh,” Jimin nodded before turning to check Taehyung out, which was clearly visible to anyone who happened to see it. “He’s good-looking.”
“Please, don’t be so subtle,” you whispered with a chuckle. “The people across the street figured it out!”
“Chill, he’s talking to Daesun, he won’t notice,” Jimin informed you, like that made things better. You didn’t want to hear that Daesun was the center of Taehyung’s attention, not even as a joke. “Okay, so we don’t like him. Why are you staring at him then?”
“Let’s say we kind of like him, after all,” you admitted, to which Jimin nodded slowly, without questioning why you now liked the guy you found so annoying.
“And why aren’t we there with him?” Jimin asked, to which you immediately shook your head. “We’re gonna let Daesun try to grab it from us?”
“Because we don’t play games,” you informed him with a grin. “How about we get another drink?”
Three drinks later, Jimin’s date walked over and told him she was ready to go.
You two got introduced and they were gone a couple of minutes later, leaving you alone in the kitchen. Well, you weren’t alone, but you didn’t know the people there, so you grabbed another drink and went to the living room.
Sadly, you didn’t know anyone there either.
It seemed like Sophia and Jongho went somewhere together. Knowing them, they probably went outside to get some fresh air and talk in peace.
Jimin went clubbing, and the only two people you knew were Taehyung and Daesun, but you weren’t about to go interrupt them and seem crazy. Taehyung was already full of himself anyway, so if you interrupted them, he’d get so conceited it would be just incredible.
Instead of ruining their fun, you sat down on a sofa and sipped on your drink, looking around in hopes of spotting a familiar face, but it simply wasn’t your night. Maybe that meant it was time for you to just call it a night.
And then, your eyes caught Taehyung’s and he had the audacity to cock his head to the side and smirk at you while Daesun was talking to him. He was really something, this guy!
You turned your head to the side just so he’d stop looking at you, but he didn’t. You could feel Taehyung’s eyes on you, so you tried to look anywhere else other than at him. When you noticed he looked away, you shot a glance his way, but it didn’t end there.
You caught Taehyung glaring at you every time you looked in his direction, and at some point, you decided you’ve had enough. You just felt the need to tell Taehyung he sucked before you left this stupid party that Daesun threw just so she could drool all over the guy you were into.
Clearly, you weren’t the soberest at that time, but it seemed like a good idea to confront Taehyung, so you got up and walked over, downing your drink as you did so. Taehyung seemed amused from the second he realized you were about to join them, and you knew he’d planned this all along.
“Hey, Daesun, could you get me a drink?” You asked her, taking her by surprise. “I couldn’t find the pink gin and I really want it.”
You realized you sounded like a spoiled bitch, but you didn’t care, not that many drinks in. Besides, you didn’t want her to know about you and Taehyung in case the two of them hooked up. Even if it wasn’t your favorite scenario, Daesun still had the right to hook up with him, so you didn’t want to ruin it for her.
On the other hand, you didn’t care if you ruined anything for Taehyung—he had it coming.
“It’s right in the kitchen,” Daesun informed you, clearly not pleased by your plea. She didn’t want to leave Taehyung alone for a second, it seemed.
“It’s not there,” you responded, shaking your head and playing dumb. Couldn’t she just leave? “I checked and couldn’t find it. Please?”
Seeing as there was no other option but to go and look, Daesun agreed, even though unwillingly. “Sure,” she nodded. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Taehyung, who grinned at her.
He was so fucking full of himself that it was almost unbelievable.
“Can you stop trying to fuck my friend in front of me?” You asked the second Daesun moved away.
“Let’s go somewhere more private to have this conversation,” Taehyung suggested and you decided to lead the way, even though you weren’t sure where you were going and why.
Upstairs sounded like a good idea—nobody would overhear you telling Taehyung that he was a fucking jerk for this. He followed you without a word into the first room you could find. You turned around to face him and watched him close the door behind you two, separating you from everyone else at the party.
“First of all,” Taehyung walked into you, making you take a step backward. “You’re not going to boss me around.”
The way he said the words made you stop being angry. You weren’t scared, far from it, but the tone of Taehyung’s voice intrigued you. It almost sounded playful.
“I’m not bo—” you started, but he cut you off.
“Second of all, you’re going to let me finish speaking like I let you. Ok?” Taehyung asked with his brows raised. Okay, you have managed to piss him off.
You nodded in agreement, curious to see where this was going.
“Third of all, you can’t ask me not to talk to people when you don’t even have my number, you don’t follow me on social media even though you follow all my friends, and you pretend we don’t know each other after making out with me and asking me to fuck you,” Taehyung spat the words out, but then he smiled at you warmly. “That makes sense, right?”
You gulped and managed to get a “yes” out, but then anger took over you again. “Why are you making all of it seem like my fault?” You asked and Taehyung instantly frowned. “I asked you for your number, but you didn’t want to give it.”
“Okay,” Taehyung raised both hands. “You’re right, I should have given it then.”
You nodded, suddenly feeling like a dumbass for even starting all of this. Taehyung clearly didn’t want Daesun—otherwise, he wouldn’t have spent half the night staring at you. Even if he wanted her, what could you do about it? You two weren’t dating. It was your own fault for hooking up with him.
“Are you jealous?” Taehyung asked you with a smirk on his face and you knew he already knew the answer. It was as if the thought just hit him and he thought it would be funny to tease you about it when it was the last thing you wanted to discuss.
“Shut up,” you linked your arms across your chest, deciding not to give in.
Yes, you were fucking jealous, there was no other way to put it. You didn’t fucking want Daesun to sleep with Taehyung, you didn’t want her to touch him or kiss him or laugh at his jokes.
You wanted to do all of that.
“Okay,” Taehyung shrugged, taking a step back.
Neither of you spoke for what seemed like a full minute, which was extremely awkward. You stood there in a random room, staring at each other, neither one of you wanting to give in. Taehyung’s smirk was as annoying as always, but the fact that you wanted him was even more upsetting.
“Do you want me?”
The question completely took you aback so you took a good look at Taehyung to determine whether he was making fun of you or if the question was serious. His expression told you he really wanted to know, so you decided to be honest.
“Yes,” you admitted, hoping you wouldn’t regret it.
This thing had to start or end somehow, so why not there and then?
“Ok,” Taehyung nodded as if you just didn’t admit something important. “Then save my number.”
“Now?” You asked in confusion and when Taehyung confirmed, you pulled your phone out of your purse and wrote his number down, calling him right away so he’d have your number too. You weren’t going to fall for the trap again and be the one who has to make the first contact. No, there were two of you in this now.
“Ok, now that that’s out of the way, sit on that table,” Taehyung instructed and you did as he asked, like a complete mindless fool.
Taehyung approached you and walked over until he was standing between your legs and looking down at your face. Having him that close made you shiver, and you hoped he didn't notice. It’s been a while since you two were so close together, so long you almost forgot how he tasted and felt, but now that he was right next to you, it was all coming back.
“You’re jealous of Daesun?” Taehyung repeated the question from earlier, clearly interested enough not to drop the topic. You had a feeling he wanted to know just so it could stroke his ego.
“No, it’s just… Ah…” You sighed, unsure of how to express what you were feeling.
Were you jealous of her? Did you really think he was going to hook up with her? Or were you just upset that he wasn’t paying attention to you? That he didn’t want to fuck you when you offered?
“Just what?” Taehyung asked, cocking his head to the side, expecting an answer.
“It annoyed me,” you said with a sigh.
“What, me talking to her?”
“Yes… Her being all over you,” you said, looking around so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes when you admitted it.
“Are you in a relationship with me?” Taehyung asked, which instantly annoyed you.
Why would he even ask things when he knew the answer? Yeah, you knew it was dumb to feel that way when you two were nothing. You didn’t even text, so you feeling jealous over him was idiotic, and you knew it without him rubbing that in.
“Clearly, no,” you said, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at him and tell him to knock it off.
“Did you fuck me?”
“No,” this time, you were a lot quieter because you remembered how he walked out on you that night.
“Are we friends?” Taehyung asked, and you started to understand where all of this was leading to.
“I don’t know,” you said honestly.
Were you? He hadn’t even thought to contact you last week, despite almost fucking you during the trip. You got along and then you didn’t and then you did again, but it all amounted to nothing in the end.
“Okay, so why would it annoy you if I, a random guy you know, talks to some other girl?” Taehyung said smugly, and for a second, you thought about getting up and leaving. But then, his expression changed and you could tell he was actually trying to get somewhere.
“Because I don’t want you to be some random guy,” you said, risking it all.
It was stupid of you to give Taehyung that much power. One wrong word could really hurt and humiliate you, and you both knew it. If he decided to walk out, it would be really disappointing and embarrassing and there’d be nothing you could do to stop it.
“So, you want more,” he stated, now keeping his voice down, still focused on your face.
Then, Taehyung’s warm hands landed on your thighs and his touch made you flex your muscles—you weren’t expecting to feel his hands on you, especially not so close to your crotch. They were right there in the middle, not too high up to be inappropriate, but definitely high enough for you to realize what he was after.
Instead of responding, you nodded in agreement, your ego taking a hit. You’d just admitted that you wanted more than friendship to him, the guy who’d ignored you and turned you down, all because his hands were so fucking distracting.
“Good,” Taehyung said and slowly moved one of his hands up your thigh until it reached the hem of your underwear. “May I?”
You nodded and Taehyung immediately pressed his palm against your crotch, the warmth feeling so soothing against your clothed sex. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was gunning for this from the beginning, it seemed. Wasn’t that his game all along? If so, he was a lot smarter than you were.
“More?” He whispered the word, leaning in so close to your face that you thought he was going for a kiss, but you knew he was too proud for that.
You nodded again and he pulled your underwear down a bit, so you lifted your hips to give him better access.
Once the underwear was halfway down your thighs and you felt naked in front of him, despite still being fully clothed, Taehyung teased you with a single finger—he ran the back of it up your slit and then stopped.
“Where were we?” Taehyung pretended he forgot the topic he so clearly enjoyed talking about. “Oh yes, you’re mad because I talked to Daesun.”
“Not mad, but… Yeah.”
“Not mad? Sure?” Taehyung cocked both eyebrows up, a playful smile across his lips. You nodded, but it didn’t seem like Taehyung believed you. He chuckled and quickly sneaked a finger up your pussy, making you hiss. “I think you were mad. You don't like seeing someone you’re into talking to other women.”
Taehyung was right about that, clearly. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting there with a finger inside of you or thinking about sleeping with him.
“You’re right,” you admitted, finally understanding that he’d please you as long as your answers kept pleasing him.
“Good, we’re getting somewhere,” Taehyung grinned and started to move his fingers up and down gently. “Really fucking tight.”
“Mhm,” you tried to hum in response, but it sounded more like a moan, mostly because his finger felt good.
“So let’s recap, shall we… You can talk to Jongho and that other dude…” You figured he meant Jimin, which was funny since you’d never shown an ounce of interest in each other sexually, but Taehyung didn’t know that. “You can laugh with them and have a drink with them and flirt with them,” Taehyung leaned in and grinned. “But, if I talk to Daesun, who is the only person I was introduced to here, by the way, you’re mad? You’re not seeing things straight.”
Well, he had a point there. While you were focused on how mean of him it was to talk to Daesun, who he’d just met, you were out there talking to Jongho, who Taehyung knew about, and Jimin, who he knew nothing about.
There were always two sides to every story, which was kind of the running theme of your and Taehyung’s love-hate relationship, and you should have figured it out by then.
And then it hit you that Taehyung was right all along—not everything was about you. The sooner you started to think of it that way, the easier this whole thing would become.
“You’re right,” you told him, not wanting to bicker about it any longer. Besides, his finger was now moving in circles inside of you, rubbing against your walls just right, so it became hard to focus on his words fully.
“You’re just saying that to get another finger,” Taehyung said with a smirk, milking out the situation as much as possible. However, this time you didn’t mind—you actually enjoyed it. You were both having fun.
You nodded quickly, knowing it would make him chuckle.
“Do you want it?” Taehyung said, licking his lips.
“Yes,” you admitted, staring right back into his eyes.
Yes, you were into him, but he was into you too. So, if you weren’t immune to his stares and cockiness, he wasn’t immune to yours either.
“Say it,” Taehyung hissed the words at you, clearly wanting to hear you explain just how much you wanted him.
Would you give him that much? “I want it.”
“Want what?” Taehyung leaned in so close that he was now right next to the side of your face, his lips next to your ear, dangerously close.
“Seriously?” You asked, thankful that he couldn’t see you roll your eyes at him.
“Do I look serious to you?” Taehyung asked, pulling back so you two could look at each other and you couldn’t help but look down at his lips.
You nodded slowly, still focused on his lips. Would he give in and kiss you first? You sure hoped so.
“Then say it,” he shrugged, determined not to finger you until you said exactly what he wanted to hear.
“Taehyung, I want another finger,” you said firmly, a lot louder than before.
“You got it,” Taehyung immediately gave in, adding another finger and slowly moving them up and down. “Where were we? Ah, yes… If we’re playing this game, we have to be equal here. You may not want everyone to know you want to fuck the guy you despise so much, I get it, but then there have to be some rules. Rule number one, at least have my number.”
“I do now!” You said to your defense, even though it wasn’t that big of a deal. You could have gotten it sooner if you treated him like a friend, that was true, but he could have gotten yours, too.
“Because of me,” Taehyung frowned and pulled his fingers out. “Rule two, add me on social media. What I mean is, don’t pretend you don’t know me when you want my dick inside of you.”
He said the words with such confidence that it managed to turn you on, even though he was getting on your nerves. You did want him inside of you, he was right again.
“Done,” you said without blinking. “I’ll follow you when I log on.”
“Good,” Taehyung smiled while inserting his fingers into you again. “So wet for me already.”
“You’re hot when you’re angry,” you decided to stroke his ego a bit, hoping he’d drop the act and give you what you wanted. Besides, it wasn’t a lie—he did look hot when he was upset.
Taehyung chuckled and, for a second, his act was gone. He was that same dude that told you he wanted to fuck you badly, the same guy who told you he wanted you, who got angry because he thought you were just playing with him.
“I’m not angry, I’m just having fun,” he said with a grin, continuing to finger you very gently. “Remember how you said you wanted to be in charge? Not gonna happen.”
“No,” you shook your head, understanding him completely. He could be in charge all he wanted if he’d keep fingering you like that, getting your walls to clench on their own. “That can be you.”
“Great,” he nodded, happy with your response. “Rule three, if I want to talk to other women, I can.”
Your body went stiff at that rule, but you didn’t want to say anything. It was too much to ask of him to stop fucking other people. You two weren’t even fucking, so it was a crazy demand to ask for a relationship with someone who clearly wasn’t into it.
Taehyung went on, even though you could tell he noticed your reaction. “If you want to talk to other men, be my guest,” he looked straight into your eyes. “What, don’t like the rule?”
“No,” you admitted in all honesty, even though you knew this could be the end of it. If you disagreed on something like this, there was no going back. You could tolerate certain things, but fucking with other people wasn’t one of them, even if you two weren’t serious about each other. “I know you… Uh, you said you were in an open relationship of some sort. I’m not into that.”
“Wait, wait,” Taehyung leaned in again, his mouth so close to yours you could feel his breath fanning your face, luring you in. “Are we in a relationship?”
“No,” you shook your head, feeling stupid for even having to say it. Of course you weren’t, and your demand was insane. Still, you’d stand your ground even if it meant losing your chance with him.
“But what?”
“I can’t do this if we’re fucking with other people,” you said with a sigh. “That’s my rule.”
“Ok, so no talking to other people,” Taehyung nodded and decided to rub your clit with his thumb. “Noted. Not a problem.”
His answer surprised you, mostly because he admitted to being in an open relationship before. If that was his thing, it was hard to change such a preference, and you wanted to be certain he really meant it.
The way you saw it, if you two kept seeing each other and sleeping together and then he fucked someone else, it would upset you. You weren’t in love with Taehyung or anything like that, you just really liked him. Still, if he promised he wouldn’t fuck around and then did exactly that, you’d have to go back to hating him, for real this time, which would definitely cause issues for your friend group. So, if he couldn’t keep it in his pants, it was better not to even start this whole thing, no matter how great he was at fingering.
“Are you sure you’re ok with that? I mean, seeing as you were in an open thing before.”
“Well, the open thing was…” Taehyung stopped to sigh, then spoke again, now applying more pressure to your clit, which made you buck your hips into his warm hand. “I dated someone really bitchy,” he added another finger, making you grunt because of the stretch. “I was into her… Wanted to fuck her day and night, wanted to show her off, that sort of thing... You know when you’re dumb like that?”
“Mhm,” you nodded, enjoying the way his three fingers felt inside of you, especially with the thumb still playing with your clit. Fuck, Taehyung was good at this.
“I would even dare say I was in love with her,” he looked you straight in the eye and you could swear he looked sad, even if only for a second. “But it wasn’t enough, fucking me… She liked keeping her options open, seeing what’s out there, fucking around… She didn’t want things to get boring.”
Taehyung was still fingering you, but you stopped focusing on how good that felt and focused on his story instead. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to say something or not, but you understood that he was just trying to explain the nature of his open relationship because you mentioned that topic.
“That sucks,” you couldn’t help but say. Nobody deserved to feel like they weren’t enough for their partner.
“Yup, but I’m over it. Anyway, she wanted to be with me under the condition of keeping it open, so that’s why it was an open thing,” Taehyung admitted, and just hearing it upset you. So, he wanted to be with this person so much he was willing to make that big of a sacrifice, and it didn’t work out. It was sad.
“Was that ok for you?” You asked, wanting him to talk to you about it some more because it felt like you were finally getting to know the real him, the person behind this annoying facade he put on.
“Nope,” Taehyung grinned at you, but you could tell he was hurt by what he was saying.
Against your better judgment, you grabbed Taehyung’s wrist to stop him from moving and looked into his eyes. “Are you sure you’re ok? You sound kind of hurt.”
Taehyung cocked his head to the side and gave you a smirk. “Let’s not let this ruin the mood, huh? I was just answering your question.”
“Okay,” you let go of his hand, not wanting to pry. If he wanted to talk about it, he could, but you two weren’t exactly that close yet, even though his finger was inside of you right then. Taehyung continued to finger you, this time actually trying to make it feel good.
“The point is, I’m not into open things,” Taehyung told you again as if he was trying to reassure you. Maybe you looked worried about it earlier, so he tried to get his point across. “Unless we’re talking about legs.”
With that, Taehyung smirked and looked down at your spread legs with his hand between them, his three fingers making you feel so full. It felt abnormal to be so wet and have three of his long, slender fingers inside of you, rubbing against your walls while his thumb played with your clit and got you even more worked up. At the same time, it felt like all your juices were flowing down his fingers into his palm because of how wet you were.
“Smooth,” you whispered, which made him chuckle and start moving his fingers faster while staring right at your face, taking all of it in. “Tae,” you hissed, still kind of unable to look him in the eyes while he was getting you off.
“What?” He asked without slowing down and you were you’d get to come soon if he kept up with this pace.
“It feels great…” you admitted, wanting to treat him like you treated other guys since he said that was the problem he had with you. Taehyung wanted to be treated like the guys you slept with, he’d get it. You leaned a bit backward and rested on your palms, which allowed you to spread your legs for him even more.
“I think you like letting me do all the work,” Taehyung said with a chuckle. He then used one of his palms to find support against the table before he started to move his fingers in and out quickly, so much so that you ran out of breath and could only moan and grip the table beneath you harder.
“Can’t say that I don’t,” you managed to mutter through gritted teeth while trying to focus solely on the feelings of his fingers filling you up.
Taehyung scoffed loudly, which broke the spell and made you look into his eyes, and the way he was looking at you made you want to kiss him. Not romantically, of course. You wanted to bite on his lips and shove your tongue inside his mouth and touch him all over, there was nothing sweet or romantic about that. “So much for that fantasy of yours!”
“Which one?”
That was the wrong question, you realized when Taehyung tongued his cheek and smiled at you cockily. “Oh, there’s more than one including me?” He couldn’t help grinning. “Good to know… I mean the one with me lying and you doing all the work… Riding me…” He spoke softly, quietly, and his words were slowly driving you over the edge. If he kept going, you would ask him to fuck you, there was no other way.
How a man this annoying could at the same time be so fucking attractive and good with his fingers was beyond you, but you weren’t about to question it. “You only said that to make me get hard, right?”
“No, I meant it…” You responded, wanting to reassure him that you did, in fact, mean it. You could see Taehyung lying on the bed, naked, letting you kiss and lick him all over, touch every part of him, and then sit down on his cock and feel it buried deep inside of you with that cocky look on his face. You could definitely see that happening. “You see how cocky you get when you’re in charge!”
Taehyung scoffed, speeding up his pace. “You fucking love cocky.”
It didn’t sound like he was fully convinced, so you decided to use the opportunity to tease him.
“Oh, do I?”
Taehyung stopped moving his fingers for a second and cocked an eyebrow up to glare at you. Then, he quickly continued pleasuring you.
“You know why you’re not into Jongho?” He leaned in and practically hissed the words at you.
“Enlighten me,” you said and then grunted when his fingers hit that spot so hard you felt like you were going to explode all over his hand.
“He’s a good-looking dude, seems fairly nice, put together, chill… but he isn’t confident,” Taehyug shot you a glare. “No cockiness at all. It wouldn’t work with you. You’re cocky as hell. Guys like him are intimidated by that once they get to know you better,” he licked his lips, turning you on even more. “Did you ever have a problem with that?”
“With what, cockiness?” You said, trying to keep your voice down and breathing low, but you were failing. Taehyung had three fingers inside of you and they rubbed you just right from the inside.
“Guys running away,” Taehyung corrected you.
“Maybe,” you shrugged. “Can’t say that I cared.”
“No, I’m sure you didn’t…” he grinned and stopped moving his fingers just to press your clit with his thumb hard, so hard it got you to moan his name, which he seemingly liked. “You rarely care about guys, right?” Now, he started to rub it slowly, getting your walls to contract around his fingers. “They’re all a piece of dick to you.”
“Just like all you see here are pussies and not girls,” you spat the words back with a hiss, enjoying the warmth his fingers were creating in the pit of your stomach.
“That’s not true. I see you,” Taehyung smiled and then looked down, “and your pussy.”
You chuckled loudly, but the laughter died out the second Taehyung started to move his fingers again.
That was it, you were coming. His thumb rubbed your clit just enough for you to clench your walls and want him even more, so when his fingers started to move in and out, they sent you over the edge. You came while looking straight into his eyes as you held onto the table tight, your legs spread, feet on the edges of the table for support, Taehyung’s body between your legs, his fingers inside of you.
“Fuck, Tae,” you grunted, letting your walls clench around him on their own as the warmth from your stomach spread all around your body.
Taehyung could pretend he was unaffected by this all he wanted, but you could tell he was so into you by the way his eyes stayed glued to your face while you came and moaned and kicked your head back. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, enjoying every second of watching the consequences of his diligent handwork.
“Mhm, that was hot,” he said with a grin, placing one hand on your knee and slowly getting his fingers out of you.
When you realized just how drenched they were, you got your bag and found some wet wipes you had for emergencies, and offered them to him. While Taehyung wiped his fingers, you did the same to your crotch and thighs, not wanting anyone to notice any remnants of your excitement.
“There’s so much of it, fuck,” you mumbled, upset with yourself that you did something this nasty in someone else’s house, with other people so close by.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Taehyung added with a grin. “It just means you really liked it.”
“You’ll never shut up about this, right?” You scoffed and then let your arms fall to your sides while staring right at him. What were you going to do about each other?
Taehyung stopped moving too and looked at you with a cocked eyebrow. “You look so fucked out. So pretty.”
That was enough for you to pull him in closer by his shirt and kiss him gently. It wasn’t about turning him on, it was about getting to finally taste him. Taehyung was a great kisser, you knew that, and you missed kissing him if you were being honest with yourself. So, why not use this chance when he was knuckles deep inside of you seconds ago?
“Can you do me a favor?” Taehyung asked, resting his forehead against yours and taking a deep breath as if your orgasm wore him out more than it did you, which was virtually impossible. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt something so good.
“Suck my dick,” he said, now looking straight into your eyes, a hint of uncertainty in his gaze. As if he thought you weren’t down to do it, Taehyung went on. “Or just put it in your mouth for a while. It doesn’t have to last long. I’ve just been hard forever.”
“And you want my mouth to get off?” You cocked your head to the side with a grin, enjoying the feeling of seeing him weak for a change.
“Ah, fuck, you want to play?” Taehyung kicked his head back and grunted. “I should just fuck you right now.”
You gently scratched his clothed chest with your fingernails, slowly making your way down while deciding you were going to tease him for a while, just to make him pay for walking out on you like that. “I bet it would slide right in.”
Taehyung grunted and looked to the side before meeting your gaze again. “Please.”
“That didn’t take long,” you said jokingly and pushed yourself off the table and got down on your knees, the sight of which made Taehyung hiss and quickly unzip his pants and pull them down his firm thighs.
When his erection sprang out of his jeans, you took a long, hard look at it, amazed by not just the girth but how much it turned you on. Taehyung looked at you questioningly, as if he was waiting for you to say something mean and shoot his confidence down, but you’d never do that, not when it came to this.
Instead, you smirked while looking up at him and wrapping your fingers around his base. “Pretty,” you hissed and took his tip in your mouth, getting Taehyung to grunt and immediately grab your hair, his whole body stiffening.
“Ah, fuck,” he grunted and looked straight into your eyes. “Feels so good.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, knowing he’d feel the vibrations around his cock as you tried to take as much of it as you could in one go. One move of your head and your nose was touching his skin, the tip of his cock entering your throat. Your breathing was calm, so you could control it well, and you really wanted to reward Taehyung for treating you so nicely.
Your throat was a reward in itself, you could tell the second Taehyung stopped talking and just focused on your face while letting out little hisses and grunts, eyes glued to his cock entering your mouth.
The fact that he was getting more turned on because of your mouth on him was enough to turn you on again, but you knew this wasn’t the time nor the place to have sex, so you gave him all you got and took as much of his hard cock as you could.
“Fuck, that’s amazing,” he muttered through his teeth and then bit down on his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from being loud.
If he knew how much you enjoyed that, Taehyung would have kept moaning. In that case, you probably would have asked him to bend you over the table and fuck you raw, that’s how much you liked it. But, since he kept his voice down, you kept bobbing your head up and down his cock, enjoying the feeling of having it in your mouth.
When you realized Taehyung was getting close, you grabbed his hands and led them to the sides of your face and then gave him a telling look. Taehyung understood you right away, so he held onto your face and started to buck his hips into your mouth gently at first, fucking your face, determining the speed and depth, loving every second of it.
You knew he’d come so fast if you let him take control and fuck you like that, which he did.
“Fucking hell, I, fuck, fuck,” he kept muttering.
Fifteen hard thrusts in and Taehyung was warning you that he was going to come, so you just nodded and let him fill your throat up with his warm cum, which almost made you choke. That made Taehyung quickly pull out, but not all the way, letting his tip rest in your mouth, so you sucked on it to get everything out.
Once you were done, you stood up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, enjoying the sight of Taehyung looking so sweaty, warm, and disoriented, his cock still hanging out, getting softer and softer while he tried to calm down and breathe without making a sound.
“That was nice,” you told him and rested against the table until he got dressed.
“Nice?” Taehyung looked at you as he pulled his boxers and pants up his thighs and over his hips. “That was fucking dope. First-class. Amazing.”
His comments made you chuckle, so he chuckled too. Soon enough, he was completely dressed, so you stood there and looked at each other for a while, unsure of the right thing to say.
“Do you want to go back?” He suggested. “Your friends might be looking for you. Or Jongho might.”
“If anything, I think Daesun is looking for you,” you teased and walked past Taehyung to get to the door first, but he stopped you by pulling you and causing you to turn around.
“I don’t give a fuck about who’s looking for me,” Taehyung said, coming so close to you that you thought he was about to kiss you again. “Okay?”
“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement and sighed only when Taehyung walked out of the room first, allowing you to take a deep breath and get your thoughts in order before walking out and facing reality.
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357 notes · View notes
chateautae · a month ago
hotter than hell | jjk. (m)
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banner by miss solaris @jamaisjoons <3
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➵ summary : jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.
↳ part of the Namkook Moonrise Masquerade collab hosted by @jamaisjoons
➵ pairing : fallen lucifer!jungkook x human!reader
➵ genre : supernatural/fantasy!au, romance, e2l, road trip, angst, fluff, eventual smut, three-shot
➵ rating : 18+
➵ word count : 27k
➵ warnings : swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, semi-biblically-accurate depictions of angels and demons, supernatural themes, mentions and depictions of sin, s e x u a l  t e n s i o n, neck-kissing, straddling
➵ a/n : WHY HELLO EVERYONE here’s the demon lucifer jk as promised!! i stayed up an entire night just to create the plot, i hope it delivers!! it’s literally one of the my favourite ideas ever hehe. this is the first part of a three-shot :) please excuse any mistakes or error since I didn’t have a beta and will probably get someone to do so later 🤧 PLEASE IMAGINE MOTS ON:E DAY 1 MY TIME JUNGKOOK FOR THIS Y’ALL, enjoy!! <3
➵ playlist : asshole by hooligan chase
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| 01 | 02 | final. |
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‘Why is she looking at my man?’ 
‘I need to get blackout drunk.’
‘Damn, that girl is fucking hot.’
‘I’ll steal it when he isn’t looking.’
Jungkook’s head rings with an innumerable amount of others’ thoughts, and he can’t seem to silence the blaring volume of them at all.
He’s roaming in complete confusion, clutching his palms over his ears because shit, is everything just so loud. His feet hurt too, when have his feet ever hurt? Why can’t he fucking fly? Why does he suddenly feel so cold?
Jungkook’s bleary vision catches sight of neon signs and lights that invite head-splitting migraines. His usual leather outfit suddenly feels like it’s sticking to his skin too much, and what is this constant pang he feels in his stomach?
He doesn’t know, all he knows is that this isn’t hell, and he definitely should not be here. 
In all his thinking, his shoulder smacks into a passing stranger and he scolds them with stern eyes, only to ram into someone else yet again. 
Fuck, that hurt. Why did that hurt? When has he ever felt pain at all? Jungkook grunts in frustration as he weaves through passing bodies in the streets and eventually tumbles before a closed store. The second he looks through the window, his eyes widen in sheer horror. 
He’s.. he’s human? 
No, impossible. He can’t be human, where did his red eyes go? Why can’t he see his wings? He snaps quick glances at his shoulder blades and finds them empty, even reaching behind his back to only feel a seamless leather jacket. He looks at his hands and sees them just like his usual form, but when did he lose that natural, searing heat to his skin? 
Jungkook can’t think, he can’t understand what’s going on but can only comprehend one very obvious, almost laughable thing. 
He’s been cast out of hell. 
He laughs, then laughs some more because shit, is that goddamn funny, comedic, absolutely hysterical. Lucifer, the king of hell himself, has been cast out of his own kingdom? Sent to Earth as some measly blubbering, putrid human? 
The second Jungkook whips his head around to a horn honking, his equilibrium unbalanced itself, that incessant ringing in his ear returning. He feels too fucking dizzy, the axis of his entire world spinning. Groaning in dull pain, he begins stalking down the street with his clammy palm to his head. 
He bumps into more people and staggers, but he doesn’t care when he can still feel that same agonizing headache plaguing him. His eyesight begins to lose precision, and before he advances, he feels his knees buckle into the nearest alleyway. He drops to the ground hard, and his surroundings disappear before he feels his cheek meet the cold pavement. 
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Monday’s are so goddamn boring. 
Absolutely nothing is special about the dreadful day. All you ever desire is to crawl into a hole and slowly perish. And the only remedy to such an issue? At least to you, it would be a nice, steaming cup of coffee. 
But what absolutely trashes even the taste of coffee on a Monday?
The fact that it’s a Monday.
You drag your feet down the street, listless and exhausted after a tiresome day at work. You loosely clutch your bag over your shoulder as you trudge along, paying attention only squarely in front of you when suddenly, your feet ram into something. You almost trip over, furrowing your brows in confusion as you zero-in on the culprit. 
Once your vision becomes clear, you immediately squeal out in shock. You look carefully to find a man lying unconscious nearby a dumpster, appalled by the disgusting trash that litters the area next to him. 
You step slowly towards the stranger, finding that he’s actually quite… handsome. No, scratch that, he is drop-dead gorgeous, his looks almost too devilishly attractive. He appears fairly young to you as well, maybe the same age as you. You scan his outfit next and find him in a quite showy leather outfit; black boots, sheer-patterned shirt that exposed his body, hair flawlessly framing his face. 
You could’ve believed he was a fallen angel, his almost ethereal aura screaming of an existence far from here. His face structure is almost perfectly crafted from the finest marble, his nose looks boopable and his adorable lips naturally fall into this charming pout. 
Though his cuteness was not to be taken head-on, because you could only imagine what such a beautiful man’s eyes look like, and what allure remained hidden within them. 
You shake your head out of the compromising thoughts, swallowing as you contemplate what to do next. The most logical thing would be to call 911, that would help him out the most, wouldn’t it?
You whip out your phone and tap your screen, only to gain no response. You quirk your brows, clicking your power button and finding your device completely drained of battery. You groan with a roll of your eyes, too shy to inquire another stranger on the street for their phone.
Weighing on the decision that the stranger most likely has a phone, you bite your lip before squatting down by him. You precariously reach into his jacket and gently search for any pockets inside, only met with empty ones. You target his leather pants next and surprisingly come up dry of a phone or wallet, no keys or even a damn stick of gum. 
That leaves you with a real head-scratcher. The stranger seems to have absolutely nothing on him, now suddenly curious of whether or not he's even dead or alive. Heart quickening at the prospect of this being a dead body, you nervously gulp as you carefully take his wrist, and place two fingers against his pulse point. 
You thankfully feel a faint heartbeat and release a breath of relief, thinking quickly on your feet. You couldn’t just leave the stranger to fend for himself, it was already cold tonight and God knows what would happen to him without any of his necessary belongings. 
On a whim and out of sheer concern for the man’s well-being, you decide to haul a cab and take him home with you, hoping to also treat that nasty wound on his cheek. 
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Jungkook feels his consciousness resurfacing, head heavy, legs weighing a ton. His eyes flutter open to a white ceiling, darting around to find himself not on the street, not in hell, but inside a quaint apartment.
He furrows his brows, rubbing lazily at an eye once he does a quick once over of the place. He sincerely doesn’t understand where he is or what he’s doing here, but right now his head is still pounding too hard to even contemplate his next move. 
Sitting up, he swallows to find his throat desert-dry, stomach producing this weird gurgling sound he can’t piece together an answer for, and his eyes feel this hefty weight behind his lids. 
With a sigh, he rises to his feet, steadying himself. He sighs at just how annoyingly human he is, feeling the sensation of his legs aching, his neck adopting a crook from being awkwardly perched on the couch’s armrest, even his cheek stinging with something. 
He touches the afflicted area and instead finds some sort of cloth taped over him, wondering what in the hell it is. He touches it some more, and applies pressure only to hiss at his wound, rolling his eyes at the sensation of pain. 
With a deep exhale to release the frustration from his body, Jungkook notices he can still feel the fiery pits of hell coursing through his veins. That hot flame is still alive inside him, something heated still within his blood and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do something about it. With a focused mind and a composed breath, Jungkook attempts to revisit the very first, innate thing about his older form, imagining conjuring up his red, glowing eyes. 
He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, and envisions them glowing crimson before he opens them again, feeling a smoldering heat spark in his irises. He spots a mirror by the front door of the apartment and peers at himself, finding his eyes a vibrant, almost fiery red. 
He smirks, proud and satisfied. He’s still got it in him and he’ll be fucked six ways from Sunday if anyone can tell him otherwise. Feeling confident and alive, Jungkook attempts to conjure up some flames in his palms. Lo and behold, after a tense second of undivided focus, a fire gushes open in his bare hands. It feels just like when he’s perched on his throne in hell, Jungkook cracking another smug grin at the power he still holds. 
In that moment however, he hears the distinct clatter of something tumbling to the ground, and whips around to the noise. He shockingly finds a human woman staring at him in utter terror, hand clutched to her heart with her phone on the ground, and cowering into the wall as she shakes profusely. 
You’re stunned, flabbergasted, downright terrified out of your wits seeing the same man you found unconscious in the street now with fire flushing out of his hands. You see him begin to approach you and you’re overridden with fear, screaming at the unnatural sight before you. 
You scream, you scream and scream and look around for objects of any sort. You spot a small bottle of body spray on your hallway counter and immediately fling it towards the man for defence. 
“Get away from me, get away!” 
“Woah, hey, hey! Calm down!” 
But you don’t, and you instead throw other obscure and heavy objects towards him only for him to either burn or dodge them, eliciting even more of your panic. He’s getting closer as he attempts to pacify you, darting by him and running directly towards your kitchen.
Your frazzled brain isn’t thinking and you immediately fling open a cabinet, reaching for the very first thing you see and rapidly grasp a pan. You hold it up ready for punishing the man before he scrambles and hushes your ear-splitting shrills, holding up his hands in surrender. 
“Wait, wait, stop! Shh!” 
“How can I not scream when your eyes are literally red?!” 
Jungkook struggles for a sentence. “Look, just, shh. You’re gonna alarm the people in your building!” 
“That’s the fucking point?! You’re a maniac!” You yell and grab open your drawer of utensils, beginning to chuck forks and spoons at the frantic man. 
“Hey, stop! Would you-stop throwing shit!” Jungkook yells frustratedly as you send him a scowl, only catapulting things harder in response. But suddenly, Jungkook burns a butter knife you haul his way, and fearfully watching it melt right before your eyes. They widen in absolute horror.
You’re seriously, and very horribly fucked.
Panic invades your chest and you spot your phone lying on the ground near your bedroom door, quickly bolting towards it in hopes of calling 911, or at least somebody for help. You dive towards the floor and snatch up your device, racing mind unable to sift through contacts efficiently enough before you feel strong arms quickly caging around you. The stranger traps your wriggling body as he attempts to grab at your phone, yelling angrily. 
“Are you insane?! Why are you calling someone?!” 
“Because you’re a fucking maniac!” 
You struggle against the man’s burly hold and flail around hopelessly, utterly panicking realizing how strong he is.  
Screams escape you as you useslessly fight each other on the floor, incessantly attempting to weaken his grasp. The man with much larger hands than yours however nabs your phone and tosses it into your room somewhere, attempting to hush you as you squeal and kick at him profusely. 
“Stop it, stop! I can explain myself!” 
“I don’t want to hear your fucking evil plan before you kill me!” 
The man’s arms are still, curled around you and hugging your back to his chest, but it’s not a warm welcome at all as he keeps you from escaping, all while you holler incoherently at him to release you. You grow tired of the shenanigans and stuff the meat of his hand in between your teeth, sinking them in with enough force to harm him. The man exclaims in pain as his arms detangle from you. 
“Ow! What the fuck?!” 
You rapidly rise to your feet in search of your phone. It’s laying near your bed and you scamper off towards it, bending down with a grabby hand to reach it, but suddenly feel the man’s heavy figure hurtle you onto the bed. You both tumble onto your mattress, the handsome stranger on top as he locks down your thrashing hands, eyes urgent as he regards you below. 
“Woman, please, please stop screaming.” He warns crucially. “I’m not someone people can know about, we’ll both get in shit!” 
“By who? You’re the only freak here!” You wiggle your smaller wrist out of his grip and reach over for a stray cushion on your bed. You feel the fleecy material in your hand and harshly begin smacking the man with the pillow. 
“Oh c’mon-what the fuck?!” You disarm him completely as he falters at your hits, the stranger toppling onto the ground as you recklessly beat the living hell out of him. 
He crosses his arms over his face in an effort to protect himself, knowing even if you run now, the man seemed strong and smart enough to capture you again; two deadly combinations that could mean your demise. So you decide to keep senselessly whacking the cushion at him until he eventually tires, and you’ll make a break for it, or Mr. and Mrs. Tran next door will most likely come to your rescue. 
You stand above him and yell profanities as you practically abuse the stranger with your pillow. However, the man latches a hand onto the pillow to halt you and causes the cheap material to completely tear open. Feather’s instantly fly out of the cushion and fill your room with white fluffiness, groaning in complaint at the mess. 
You disregard the $4 ripped-up thing, and return to smacking at the man with the pillow cover. 
“Why. The. Fuck. Did you. Rip. My. PILLOW?!” You howl between each of your attacks and the man struggles on the ground as he exclaims in pain, blinded and barely able to shout in return. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?! Why are you beating me up?!” 
“Says the one who ripped my pillow and tried to murder me!” 
“I’m not even-what!” The stranger shrieks in disbelief. “I never tried to murder you! I didn’t do anything wrong!” 
That response actually halts your actions, freezing once you truly contemplate the stranger didn’t try to exactly kill you or anything, and you’re then in fact assaulting him for no concrete reason. As your easily distracted mind wanders, the man suddenly pulls at your legs with grabby hands. You squeal as you suddenly land on top of his rather muscular body, crashing onto him hard. 
Funny enough, you end up apologizing for settling over him so roughly. “Oh my God, I’m so-” 
“Shh, shh.” The man pushes his index fingers to your lips and his own, shushing you both. There’s a long moment of silence, both you and the albeit, gorgeous man staring into each other’s round eyes as your chests press into each other’s tightly, feathers slowly cascading down around your entangled bodies. 
You swallow as you watch the man underneath you in fear, wondering why he hushed you. You open your mouth to question him but he only shakes his head, warning you with a hush again. 
“Shh, I hear footsteps.” 
Suddenly, your front door is racked with a few hard raps. 
“Who’s-” The man begins a question but you immediately smack your hands over his mouth, silencing him. 
“Shh, don’t say anything!” 
He removes your dainty hands from his lips and surprisingly holds them quite gently. “But is it the police-” 
You clasp them over his mouth tighter, your face and his suddenly mere inches from each other as you tut him. “Shh! They can’t hear another voice!” 
“Honey! Are you in there?” 
You both pause, wide-eyed and frozen in time as you hear the voices of the nice couple that live next door to you. Your fight or flight mode kicks in, stress hormones on high alert as you register the idea of them seeing a random man in your apartment. 
Let alone you on top of him like this.
They’ll assume the worst and get too worried for their own good, sighing with immense anxiety. You rapidly scramble off the leather-wearing stranger and snatch up his wrist, quickly tugging him upwards and onto his feet. He balances himself and you quickly shove him onto your tousled sheets and disorderly feathers. 
“Look, just-stay here.” You hiss in a whisper, gesturing to him to stay put like a pet dog as you rapidly kick some stray feathers that escaped into the hallway inside your bedroom. You fix your outfit with a few strokes and begin shutting the door to hide the man, until he suddenly calls you back with a whisper-yell. 
“Wait, woman!” 
You poke your head back in with an incredulous ‘what the fuck?’, and the man rises as he steps speedily towards you. His hands jut out for what you believe to be in effort to harm you, but instead find your hair and smooth down some of your wild locks, even picking out a fuzzy piece of feather that stuck to your bangs. 
“Oh..” You quietly exclaim, running your hands through your hair for a quick fix.
“Dear, where are you? We’re getting very worried!” You hear Mr. Tran yell more urgently this time, and your hands smack against the strangers to unhand you, pushing him back within the four walls of your bedroom and shutting the door on his handsome face. 
You compose yourself once you’ve done so and reach your foyer, swinging open your front door. 
“Oh dear, Y/N, we were so worried, honey. Are you alright?” Mrs. Tran holds her hand to her chest as she takes a deep breath, Mr. Tran soon joining. 
“Is anything going on, sweetheart? We heard so much yelling.” 
“I’m okay, Mr. and Mrs. Tran. You don’t need to worry about me at all.” 
“Are you sure you’re okay, dear? There was an awful lot of screaming.” Mrs. Tran’s eyes flit around your apartment discreetly. 
“I was just on video call with my friends and they decided to play a scary prank on me.” You bellow out a fake laugh and watch them lighten up, buying the lie. 
“Oh gosh, we thought we heard another man’s voice and got so scared! We’re so glad you’re alright, dear.” Mr. Tran laughs with you, and you kindly reply. 
“Oh not at all! Thank you for checking on me, Mr. and Mrs. Tran.” You smile big and wide to appear okay, momentarily snapping your vision towards your bedroom with a gulp. They end up bidding their farewells and you watch them entirely enter their apartment, sighing with relief once their door closes. 
You shut yours, and practically stomp over to your bedroom as you hurl the door back open. The man on the other side practically leaps when you do, staring wide-eyed with raised eyebrows at your angry expression. 
“You have a lot of explaining to do.” The man watches steam figuratively blown out of your ears, and a little noise escapes the back of his throat that almost sounds like a laugh. 
“Did you just laugh at me?” 
“N-no.” He brushes off sauvely. 
You roll your eyes and snatch his wrist again, dragging him over to your living room and abruptly halting just before your couches. You shove him towards them and he snaps a testy look at you, taking his seat. 
You decide to stand and look down at him as he crosses a leg and lays his arm against the backrest, sitting as if he owned the place. You fold your arms and tap your foot in anticipation, eyes pissed and steely. “Well?” 
“Well, what?” 
“Do you not owe me an explanation?” You quirk an audacious brow, attempting to fathom what just transpired in the last 5 minutes.
“Explanation.. of what exactly?” He tilts his head and watches you with fascination, and it was now you realized his eyes weren’t glowing red anymore, they’re the colour of chocolate brown. But that doesn’t mean what you saw was a hallucination or a mind-trick either, you remember exactly what you witnessed with your naked eyes. 
The man seems to feel a crook in his neck. Your once occupied attention now snaps to the way he stretches it out, listening to the cracks of his bones that sound practically inhuman. 
“Why the hell did I see fire coming out of your hands? And your red eyes? Who the fuck are you?!” 
The stranger has an ah-hah moment, and understands you with a small nod. He goes from a non-committing look of disinterest to a mirthy smirk on his face, one that almost seemed devilish. He lets out a proud sigh as he hoists himself up, standing tall before you as he suavely tugs at the lapels of his leather jacket. 
“Well, I’ll cut to the chase,” The man quirks his eyebrows and plays with his lips in this undeniably sexy way you can’t help but find hot, blinking away the thought before it consumes you. 
“I’m Lucifer, the king of hell, baby.” 
You blink; once, twice, then three times. You stare at him dumbfounded, as if that would help you understand what he just so casually uttered. You finally let out a noise akin to a scoff. “I’m sorry, what?” 
“I’m Lucifer. You know, fallen archangel? Satan? The Devil?” 
You blink. “Do you think this is a joke?” 
The so-called Lucifer furrows his brows. “Huh?” 
“I nursed you after finding you unconscious on the street, and now you want to joke with me?” 
“But I’m not joking..?” The man seems acutely confused, even tilting his head in this innocent way that completely contrasted his scorching hot looks. He even peers so vividly into your eyes, it's as though he could read every corner of your soul. He towers over you, you also realized. His height is so significantly taller than yours that he has to crane his neck to look down at you. And all of sudden, the way your eyes shift up to meet his gaze feels oddly searing, almost like you feel something hot ignite within you when your lines of sight lock.
“There’s no way in hell you’re Lucifer, buddy. Tell me who you really are and maybe we can talk.” 
“But that is who I am,” Jungkook emphasizes, watching him step closer to you. He suddenly leans down to be eye-level with you, staring directly into your pupils smugly before cracking an evil grin. “Let me show you.” 
Your lips fall into a quizzical pout as you watch him perplexedly before you, and witness the man’s eyes suddenly morph from a warm coffee brown into a dull, flaming colour of dark scarlet. You flinch, watching the image of almost a smoldering fire in his eyes, and the coy way he tongues his cheek gives you the impression he’s a man dripping in sin. 
He blinks and rids himself of the flames, straightening up. “Believe me now, angel?” 
You couldn’t fathom this information, nor the pet name he just used on you. Did you in fact find Lucifer, the devil himself unconscious in the street and brought him into your home? Even nursed him and let him crash in your living room? Not that you regretted it at the time, you do remember admiring his absolutely gorgeous face and couldn’t help but openly gawk at him. 
Of course Lucifer had to be scorching hot with a face that could be sat on.
So-called Lucifer suddenly cracks a grin and chuckles, narrowed eyes snapping to him. “Why’d you just laugh?” 
“Nothing,” The man shrugs, amused eyes scanning you over. “You’re kinda cute.” 
You scowl at him sternly and roll your eyes, clearing your throat as you address him. “Well, Mr. Lucifer-” 
“Jungkook,” he gestures with a hand before folding his arms. “Just call me Jungkook.” 
“J-Jungkook.. what in God’s name are you-or not God. What in hell’s.. the devil’s name?” You become confused trying to form the question, pensive finger to your lips. 
“What am I doing here on Earth, is what you’re asking?” 
You nod with big, curious eyes, though still hold an adorable amount of annoyance within them Jungkook couldn’t help but notice. Said man flashes an evident look towards your lips before he continues. “To be honest, miss. I have no clue.” 
You purse your confused petals as you figure  that’s not exactly much to go on. You wonder what a celestial being of such high caliber could possibly be doing on Earth, let alone appearing to you like some rockstar that missed out on his opening act for Elvis Presely. 
“You didn’t tell me a name.” 
Your eyes flicker to his. “Huh?” 
“Your name.. I don’t know it.” He flatly remarks as his hands slip into his pockets, still eyeing you, almost examining you with that intense stare that seemed to burn you alive. 
“O-oh, right. My name..” You nervously laugh, arms crossed over your chest. “Y/N.. Y/N Y/L/N.” 
Jungkook jerks his brows in amusement, doing that thing where he tongues his cheek, and now you suddenly wonder why he plays around with his tongue so much. “That’s a nice name.” 
“Thanks,” you rigidly respond, not exactly knowing what to do. You’re all but traversing the many thoughts swarming your head; is this even real? Is this a dream? Is this some sort of colossal, sick joke someone’s playing on you? 
But you’re interrupted by the sound of a sudden gurgle, knowing you’ve already eaten dinner, and discerning it’s coming from your otherworldly companion. 
“Umm, are you hungry?” 
“Shit, is that what this is? Hunger?” Jungkook pulls a disgusted expression and pretends to throw up, lamenting horribly. “Fuck, I really am human.” 
You roll your eyes as he puts on a show of fake-sobbing, his pretentiousness eliciting a scoff from you. “Look, do you wanna eat something or starve?” 
Jungkook lightly pouts his lips as his shoulders slump and hands falter, eyes suddenly much more innocent. “Eat, I think? It’s not good for a human to not eat food, right?” 
You realize with such a question how little knowledge Jungkook possesses on humans, and with a hard sigh, you nod as you lead him towards your kitchen. 
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You watch Jungkook literally devour all the leftovers you housed in your fridge; fried chicken, some old Chinese, even the pasta and ravioli you’d left earlier today all down his stomach. You feel full just watching him when you lean your elbows over the counter, seriously inquiring about him. 
“So, wait, repeat that again?” 
Jungkook scarfs down a slice of pizza in practically a whole second, speaking messily through a full mouth. You try not to grimace. 
“Basically, I was cast out of hell and now…” Jungkook swallows as he reaches for a tall glass of water. “I have to find my way back in.” 
You blink multiple times to compute the information. “So for some reason you were kicked out of hell, and now you need to find your way back? Why the hell were you kicked out in the first place?” 
“I have no clue,” Jungkook takes another swig of water to wash down the dense content of his food. “All I know is that I need a way back in.” 
“Do you at least know how? Or what you need to do?” 
You watch him slam down your glass after finishing off, and now, you find every plate you presented to him nearly wiped clean. “I have no clue about that, either.” 
You deadpan. “What the fuck?” 
“Look, human. All I know is that I can find the answers I’m looking for. I just don’t know where to start.” You sigh, cradling your cheek in your palm as you watch him pat a napkin to his lips, and all of a sudden it draws attention to the soft petals. 
Why are his lips so damn kissable?
Jungkook’s eyes suddenly flicker up to yours and you snap out of your trance, swallowing. “W-what? Have you never been on Earth before?” You internally facepalm yourself for your idiotic stutter. 
“Nope, not at all.” 
You narrow your eyes. “Then how do you even know how to act like a human?” 
Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to deadpan, an elbow coming up to rest on the table as his other hand cups over his thigh, leaning in. “Are you forgetting who I am, angel?” He smugly asks. “I’m the devil, watching humans is part of my job.” 
You shoot him a testy look for the pet name again, but become curious of his job all of a sudden. “What do you even do as Lucifer? Sit on a throne and hear the screams of poor souls perishing in hell’s fire?” 
Jungkook genuinely laughs at your words, and you become even more annoyed. “What?!” 
“You’re quite right,” Jungkook sends you a proud nod, though he suddenly leans in closer, and he’s now bridged the gap between you and himself over your kitchen counter. He’s close, close enough you catch a whiff of this crisp, warm, though attractive scent off him. It was practically beckoning you closer with each breath in. The heat that radiates off him is almost scalding alone, swallowing as his proximity calls this certain side of you to jump out. 
Or more so, jump him. 
Jungkook smirks again, wetting his lips. “But I’m also the king and master of sin. I draw people’s deepest, darkest secrets out of them. All the bad in them.” 
He deliberately eyes you, almost too hard. It's as though he’s searching every crevice of your mind and can suddenly see all the hidden, disguised aspects of yourself. Now the air’s suffocating, those searing eyes you swear turn scarlet at one point so immensely bewitching you, it’s hard to look away. 
You can feel this almost magnetic pull towards him, eyes darting down to those cute lips of his again. But you immediately brush it off, knowing men like, well, devilish men like him love using their charms to entrance whomever they deem weak enough to fall into the trap. 
You scoff, looking away. “I’ve gotta take a shower.” 
You abruptly rise from your seat. You swipe your phone with you as you watch him settle into his chair, arms folded and now appearing very bored. You sigh as you glare at him, wondering how you’re meant to keep Lucifer of all people entertained. 
A question pops into your head, having mulled over it since you’d nursed him on your couch. “Hey, demon.” 
His gaze flickers to you, chewing on his lip. 
“Do you have a place to stay?” 
You watch as Jungkook actually becomes uncharacteristically shy, shifting awkwardly in his seat. “Not exactly, no.” The column of his throat bobs as he gulps. “Why? Are you trying to kick me out?” 
You laugh, covering your smile when you do. “No, I’m not like whatever higher power that casted you out of hell.” 
Jungkook’s smile returns then, less snarky but now actually more.. charming? “Funny and cute. I like you, human.” 
You narrow your eyes with a curt reminder. “Human’s not my name, demon.” 
“And demon’s not mine, either.” You contort your lips into an annoyed pout and stare him down. He returns the challenging look, though lightens up for his next question. “So.. can I stay here?” 
You don’t take much time to consider your answer, knowing your empathetically-cursed character could never deny the homeless man shelter. “I guess so. I don’t think it’s smart to let you roam the human world with your little knowledge of it.” Jungkook moves to deny you the insult of his pea-sized brain, but you calm him down. “I don’t mean it offensively. I mean it for your safety, Jungkook.” 
He settles down, understanding. “Yeah, I get you.” 
Jungkook seems to then regard you with a much more amicable look, his eyes conveying unusual, though present gratefulness. Suddenly you become interested in exactly how human Jungkook really is, seeing as he appears as human as it gets, but exactly how Lucifer is he still? 
“If I may ask.. are you really.. human on earth? As in.. do you have a different form in hell?” 
Jungkook finds the question endearing, laughing a little. “Not really. I appear like this in hell too, all the way down to my outfit.” He gestures towards his attire. “Though in hell I have wings. My eyes permanently glow red and I usually have flames surrounding me.. mainly my wings.” 
You’re stunned, now contemplating the image of Jungkook with these wide, gorgeous wings. You’re left completely speechless, envisioning the flames that probably burst out of them like a Phoenix rising from the ashes. 
“They must be beautiful.” You don’t even realize you let your thoughts slip aloud, regaining focus when you see Jungkook smirk through a laugh. 
“I-I mean.. are you sure you’re human? I mean your skin and all.. do you even need to sleep?” 
Jungkook tilts his head side-to-side for an unsure answer. “Eh, it’s different now that I’m on Earth. In hell, I’m at full power and never need to sleep, eat. Shit, I don’t even feel pain. My flames act as a sort of protective shield, I never incur injuries.” Jungkook elucidates casually.
 “But it seems the rules are different for me on Earth. I get hungry and thirsty. And this,” he gestures towards the small bandage you placed over his cheek wound. “Means I don’t automatically heal, and the exhaustion in my body means I also require sleep.” Jungkook simultaneously yawns as he informs you, covering his mouth. 
“And your skin..? Is your body entirely human?” 
Jungkook cracks a chuckle and his devilish eyes land on you, staring into your soul yet again. He props off his chair without warning and suddenly steps towards you, towering over your smaller frame again. His eyes remain locked with yours as he removes the lapels of his jacket, peeling back the item as he tongues his cheek. The action calls attention towards the sharp edge of his jawline, noticing how attractive it makes his thick neck appear. 
Fuck, if only you could mark a neck that pretty. 
The sound of his sudden snort reels you back into reality, watching him strip his jacket off.
“Jungkook-” You panic to cover him, but he continues, tossing the jacket onto the couch behind you as he then employs his fingers towards his nearly sheer, black-patterened dress shirt. You grow nervous as you watch him dislodge each button, wanting to avert your eyes and do so, but something about him beckons your sight back. Eventually he casts his shirt open, and your eyes nearly fall out of your sockets. 
Jungkook is ripped, as in he has the sexiest body you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life. The Statue of David must be jealous, hell, Aphrodite herself would probably choose Jungkook over ugly ol’ Adonis; that is how gorgeous he is. 
“Touch me and see for yourself.” 
You gulp, wide eyes flashing towards him. “Huh?” 
His lips curve into a smug grin, emphasizing his already drop-dead gorgeous face. “If you want to know whether I'm human or not, touch my body.” 
You suck in a breath, suddenly his open shirt exposing his sculpted torso is making your brain go haywire. The deep timbre of his voice saying such words already have you in shambles, wondering when he became so goddamn irresistible?
You can see each divot and protrusion of his muscular body, his abs prominent and his chest downright sinful. Though it’s his tiny, almost delicate waist that has you swooning, practically drooling over the hour-glass figure of his stunning, practically ethereal body. 
You snap a look at Jungkook, and his eyes await you as he watches with pure mirth. You hmph, acting as though this isn’t a big deal when you step closer and slowly, but surely press your palm to his chest. You lose air the second you feel the rock hard muscle.
Fuck, can I squish my face between his pecs? 
You shake your head and hear Jungkook let out the tiniest of laughs, shooting him a grumpy look. You then carefully traverse his skin, being able to feel the beating of his heart, the flesh and blood that make up his body. He feels warm.. almost too warm and it’s as though he’s.. calling you. Your body feels that magnetic pull again, wanting to either devour him whole or litter his body with your sinful kisses. 
It rushes through your veins and floods your lungs, filling your bloodstream with this instinct to simply jump him, touch him, bring this ravenous, dark side of you out into the world. Your breathing increases speed; suddenly he’s all you see and you can feel your body needing him just like you need air, like you wouldn’t survive without him until.. you pull yourself out of the trance. 
You physically rip your hand away and breathe erratically, as though you weren’t yourself just now. Your perplexed eyes blink multiple times to allow the rush to subside, and swallow harshly as you look away from him. 
“What.. what is that?” 
“What’s what?” 
“That-that thing. That fucking attraction to you or whatever..” 
He displays a lop-sided grin on his face as he quirks his brow amusingly, scoffing. “I’m Lucifer, angel. I breed sin wherever I go.” 
“What-what do you mean?” You peer at him with annoyance but also.. intrigue? This was oddly interesting to you, never have you felt the effects of something so utterly hypnotizing, attractive, alluring.  
Never have you felt your heart hammer and mind race like that. 
Jungkook makes it a statement to subtract the space between you two, your bubble invaded by his bare body as he carefully circles a palm around your arm, searing eyes boring into yours. “It means whatever sin you think of; lust, greed, gluttony, envy. They’re all heightened when you’re close to me, and worse if anyone’s lucky enough to touch me.” 
Your vision locks with his, finding the explanation to that scalding heat of his body. 
He’s goddamn Lucifer. 
“But.. I touched you.” 
He breathes a laugh through his nose. “And I don’t let just anyone touch me, angel.” 
You narrow your eyes at him, tugging your arm out of his hold. “Why do you call me angel?” 
Jungkook lightly gestures towards your chest area, and before you can grow offended over his line of thinking, you flicker downwards to find that your pajama t-shirt for tonight has the word ‘angel’ written across it, then adorned with wings and a halo around the text. 
You scoff, returning to him. “Really?” 
“That, and you seem to radiate the energy of an angel.” 
“And how exactly do I seem to do that, demon?” 
Jungkook’s fingertips find themselves preoccupied with feeling a piece of your hair, letting himself watch the action with a faint smile. You would smack his hand away, but his softer eyes look towards you, and you swallow nervously when you feel that heated attraction to him once again. 
His open shirt is already difficult to ignore, and you can’t seem to want to shove him away.
“Angels are pure, and true. They’re virtuous and serve the good of the universe.” You feel his hot breath tickle your skin as he decreases the gap between you two. His eyes remain locked with yours as he releases your hair. “But one thing to be known about angels,” He leans in closer, and pierces your soul with his searing heat. 
“They’re not as innocent as they seem.” 
He does it again, peering as if he knows something about you, deliberately searches your eyes as if he can sift through your mind, and you need to simply break away from him. His lips are too close and fuck, do you already find his lips so goddamn kissable. Not to mention this now supernatural pull you have towards him heightening your darkest desires. 
“I’m gonna take a shower, busy yourself in the main area.” You mutter almost incoherently. 
And all you hear is Jungkook’s muffled laugh as you scurry away. 
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The sounds of the TV running quirks your brows, ruffling a towel against your damp hair as you enter the living room. 
You find the odd sight of Jungkook holding a remote in his hand, lounging on your couch as he watches an episode of Friends. A laugh escapes you, not having ever imagined Lucifer doing something as mundane as watching TV. 
His eyes shift towards you at the sound of your chuckle, Jungkook sitting up much straighter. 
“Welcome back, human.” 
“It’s my house, demon.” 
Jungkook kisses his teeth as you approach him, your towel hanging around your shoulders. His eyes remain on your face for a while, though they travel down your body with a little scan. You realize it’s your short-cladded legs he’s observing, then returns his sight to you. 
“What are you wearing?” 
“Pajamas?” You answer him with a chide. 
He purses his lips in this certain manner of understanding, leaning his arm against the back of the couch, legs manspreading almost indefinitely. This is when you earn the opportunity to really view Jungkook’s legs, and fuck, are you goddamn mesmerized. His strong, thick thighs are hugged snuggly by those leather pants, and they do him a damn service by emphasizing their muscular, sexy build. His legs are also long, you notice, perfectly presenting his lap to you and it takes every ounce of your being to not so obviously look at his bulging crotch; naturally bulging crotch may you add. 
I swear if he’s packing too, this’ll just be unfair. 
Jungkook cracks a scoff all of a sudden and you narrow your vision, scrutinizing him. 
“I asked you a question?” He suddenly says.  
“Huh?” You blink; he must’ve queried you when you spaced out. “What did you ask?” 
“I asked if that’s how humans usually dress for the night.” Jungkook repeats himself. 
“Well, yeah. You wanna be comfortable when you’re sleeping, less clothing is usually the answer.” You reply honestly, arms crossed over your chest that adorns no bra. “You’re a guest in my home, and this is how I dress.” 
“You consider me a guest?” Jungkook inquires with a slight smile. 
“Well, yes. To be fair, I’m the one who brought you to my home, you didn’t infiltrate it or anything.” You offer him a shrug. 
You watch Jungkook genuinely grin at that, amused eyes flitting to you. “You’re nice, human.” 
“Thanks.” You’re not sure how much a compliment from Lucifer matters, but you take it anyway. 
“Oh shit, you don’t have anything to wear tonight, do you?” 
Jungkook’s round eyes wander off in thought, and it’s now that you notice his eyes are actually quite.. cute. “I don’t think so. I assume sleeping in an outfit like this wouldn’t be comfortable, as you say.” 
“Yeah, just hold on. I’ll come back with something.” 
You return to Jungkook with a set of comfortable clothes in hand, presenting them to him. “Here, I think these should fit.” 
Jungkook quirks a brow as he peers at the clothes with incredulousness, then you. “You’re going to make me wear that?” 
You roll your eyes as you regard the Hello Kitty shirt and grey sweatpants in your hands. “This is my biggest oversized shirt, okay?” You attempt to defend yourself. 
Jungkook appears as though his ego is hurt, a baffled hand to his heart. “You expect Lucifer, the king of hell, to wear something like this?” 
“It’s either this or no clothes, buddy.” You try to reason with him. 
Jungkook smirks then, standing to his feet before you with an amused and suggestive attitude. “I mean, I don’t mind not wearing clothes. But I think the only person that’s gonna have a problem with that is you, angel.” 
God, his eyes just scream the fiery pits of hell and mischievous mirth, who fucking knew Lucifer could be so obnoxious? His sense of confidence is suffocating and he seems as egotistical as the high school captain of a football team. 
You shove the clothes into his, dare you say, rock hard abs and huff with a scowl. “Just take the fucking clothes and change, demon.” 
Jungkook scoffs with barely-there acquiescence, inspecting the clothing items as he picks out the sweatpants. “These sweatpants don’t look like they belong to a woman.” 
“They’re not mine.” You absent-mindedly grumble as you make your way towards your kitchen, deciding on tidying up the many plates Jungkook left scoured from his feast. 
“Whose are they?” 
“Ex’s.” You reply flatly, compiling the plates together and nabbing the utensils he used. 
Jungkook nods in understanding, though now seems a bit out of place holding the pants. He reveals what could’ve been... sympathy? Pity? You don’t know. 
“Why are they in your apartment?” 
“He left them here after I kicked him out.” Jungkook notices the way you seem too casual while washing the plates, querying again. 
“Why did you kick him out..?” 
You set down the plates harshly in the sink then, producing a loud clattering noise. “Could you just fucking change?”
You didn’t mean to say it so sternly and with a cold-cut tone, but you settle once you see the taken aback expression on Jungkook’s face. You bite your lip as the water runs over your now cold hands, sighing as you return to your dishes. “I’m sorry. Just-get changed, please? That outfit must be bothering you.” 
Offering your words a little sweeter this way seems to dissemble the look of surprise on Jungkook, nodding as he visibly zips his mouth shut. Jungkook then begins to unbutton his pants right before you, undoing and just about tugging them down until you rapidly hold up your soapy hands to halt him. 
“Wait-wait! Not here!” 
“Don’t get changed in front of me, change in my room or something!” You attempt to mask your line of sight. No way would you goddam let yourself see whatever beast Lucifer is hiding in his leather pants. 
“And why would I need to do that? Haven’t you seen a man naked?” 
You roll your eyes at his snarky remark, knowing there’s got to be another smug grin on his rideable face right now. “I have but I haven’t seen you naked. Just change in my room please.” 
Jungkook lets out a grievous huff as he fixes his pants back on. “Fine, I’ll be back.” 
He snatches up his clothes and finds his way to your bedroom, shutting himself inside after flashing you a purposefully saccharine grin. You exhale once he’s disappeared, now running through the millions of thoughts that plague your mind. 
Is this really what your life’s now come to? Housing Lucifer in your home? You do digress on the matter that it’s not his fault. He’s been cast out of hell for a reason he doesn’t know, and it’s not like he was provided an elaborate guide on how to get himself back in either. 
You assume it must do with learning a valuable lesson or performing some sort of task, though it’s not like you know what the mighty powers above have in store for an already ethereal being such as Lucifer. You weigh your options here, maybe you can simply let him live here as a roommate until he can find a way back, right? 
Considering he has no means of living in the real world; ID, wallet, phone, fuck, even a passport, he won’t be able to get around easily. So for now, you might as well let him slumber with you until he deals with whatever introspective prospect of himself he needs to clean up. 
Your bedroom door clicks open as you find Jungkook emerging in your ex’s sweatpants that actually fit him quite well, and a stifled giggle escapes you once regarding him in your blush pink Hello Kitty t-shirt. 
“Well, you look just about ready for your hellish throne, don’t you?” 
“Fuck you.” He harmlessly exasperates, dragging his feet towards you with slumped shoulders. “You couldn’t have found me a shirt that maybe had anything to do with hell? Like that one sitting on your chair by your desk?” 
You scoff, scrunching up your facial features in disbelief. “No way would I give you my Thrasher t-shirt.” You glower. “It’s my favourite t-shirt.” 
“And I’m about to become your favourite person soon, hand it over.” Jungkook holds out his palm and requests the shirt with an arrogant curl of his fingers, sending him a deadpan expression and shoving his hand aside. 
“Maybe if you help me clean up my apartment and the dishes I’ll consider the offer, demon.” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth yet again. “You made a mess of objects in your apartment by throwing them at me, and now I have to clean them up, human?” 
“Who’s the ‘human’ that’s keeping your identity as Lucifer a secret and is letting you live here for free?” Jungkook pulls his lips back guiltily at that, pursing them with an affirmative nod before reluctantly getting on with his task. You quietly huff as you watch him compliantly clean up the mess, glad that he can at least follow instructions. 
It boggles you actually. Did you just instruct Lucifer, the obnoxious ruler of the Underworld to do something, and he listened? Do you now have one of the most powerful beings in the universe wrapped around your finger for offering your home? The thought paints a smirk onto your face. You did not begin this Monday at all thinking you’d be in the good graces of the devil himself. 
Too preoccupied with your thoughts, suddenly a searing heat beside you startles you. You peer up to find Jungkook slotted right next to you and picking up the dishes you’ve sudded up, silently rinsing them with this pout on his lips that seemed like a natural habit.
You quirk an inquisitive brow though, hands having stopped moving. “What are you doing?” 
“I’m helping you?” He replies obviously. 
You absorb the kind gesture and loosen up a little. “That’s.. kind of you.”  
“What? Didn’t think Lucifer could be kind?” He’s teasing you now, his eyebrows jerking in an amusing way that shows you he just loves the game. You roll your eyes, nudging his elbow as you bite back a smile. 
“Get to work, demon.” 
Jungkook suppresses a grin. He rather contorts his lips in acquiesce as he continues to wash diligently, humming a tune very similar to The Beatles’ “Devil in Her Heart”. 
And you quietly chuckle. 
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“There,” you gesture with an accomplished grin, hands perching onto your hips. You and Jungkook both look on at a makeshift bed you had crafted for him in your room, eyes peering at him for approval. 
He observes it with a critical lens, pensive pointer finger and thumb stroking his chin. “Is this meant to be where I sleep?” 
“Of course, where else would you sleep?” 
Jungkook’s eyes flicker towards your queen-sized bed and very obviously gestures towards it. “Maybe on the entire bed in your room? Did you think I don’t know that humans sleep in beds?” 
You exhale with irritation, palm smacking your forehead. “You can’t just sleep in my bed, genius. I barely know you!” 
“And what’s so bad about a man and a woman sleeping in the same bed?” Jungkook questions argumentatively. 
You send him a glare. “Like I said, I don’t know you and your intentions, and sleeping is when humans are in their most vulnerable state.” 
Jungkook contorts his lips with dislike. “I’m not going to unsolicitedly touch you or anything, if that’s your concern. All you are is a measly human to me, I have no attraction to you.” He holds up a hand in protest. 
“Excuse me?” You gasp. “Are you saying I’m unattractive?” 
“So now you want me to think you're attractive and want to unsolicitedly touch you?” 
You halt once you see the flaw in your argument, brewing in resentment as you watch him grin proudly. “That’s what I thought, human.” 
“Fine, you know what? Either you sleep on this lovely bed I made for you on the floor, or you sleep on my couch.” 
Jungkook sticks his tongue out and blows a wet raspberry, arms folded over his hard chest. “Fuck your couch, it put this damn crook in my neck.” 
You clasp your hands together and emphasize the most pathetically sympathetic pout in the universe. “Awh, did little Luci get an ouchy?” 
“Are you asking me to burn your couch? Because I’ll do so without hesitation, angel.” 
“Ugh!” You suddenly burst out into figurative flames, standing square before Jungkook to address him seriously. “Alright, demon. Since you seem to be the epitome of a picky child, you can sleep in my bed with me.” 
Jungkook’s face purposefully lights up like an elated child, gasping comically loudly just to get on your nerves, but you halt him with a finger. “But, we’re putting a barrier of pillows between us.” 
Jungkok scoffs with folded arms, hating that the action called attention to his bulky, bulging biceps in a funnily contrasting women’s shirt. “Not like I wanted to cuddle with you and catch your human disease, anyway.” 
You exclaim disapprovingly at the way he spits the term, hands perched on your hips with a speedy retort. “Well fuck you and your smoldering heat, demon. When I asked for a new furnace I didn’t mean you.”
Jungkook childishly mocks your expression, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, if you need a furnace then clearly it gets cold at night, and then we’ll see who’s cuddling up to who for heat.” 
You watch him practically throw open your covers and shuffle inside, hmphing as you step off in search of your light switch and shut it off. “Whatever.” You weakly grumble back. 
You settle into your covers as you harshly shove a bunch of pillows between you and Jungkook, not even daring to spare the infuriating man a look, turning completely away from his figure. You huddle into your side like a fetus once the night really kicks in, cursing your goddamn furnace for supplying such sparse heat while your window leaks chilly air through the old cracks. 
You shiver all while Jungkook seems to completely knock out in peace, most likely from his first oh so tiresome day being human. You’re welcomed by his light snoring for hours as you roll your eyes in contempt. 
Wanting to pin it on him for so irritatingly interrupting your much-needed sleep, you become annoyed not just with Jungkook’s snoring, but that he was right. 
You really wanted to cuddle up to him for some goddamn warmth that night. 
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You bop around to the Beatles’ 1963 track Jungkook was humming last night, pushing around some strips of bacon in your pan, messy hair tied and in your lounge wear. You’d cracked a few more eggs and cooked more bacon for your annoyingly hellish acquaintance. 
The chilly night really didn’t serve you well as you froze in your spot, only shuffling towards Jungkook after peeking at his slobbering, snoring state of sleep. You were thankful he still radiated such an abundant amount of heat, that finding relief in the small waves you could feel even over the pillow barrier wasn’t too difficult. 
Your pride kept you from removing even a single cushion. 
You produce playful noises from your lips as you busy yourself, setting up some breakfast considering your house does not only have a population of one anymore, but two, and it still continues to shift the axis of your world. 
Was last night really your reality? Are you sure that wasn’t just a wild figment of your imagination? It had to be, even if you believe in the supernatural, there was no way such a superior celestial being could so casually be a guest in your home. 
You’re reminded of that certain special guest when you suddenly hear a loud thud in your bedroom, concerned eyes perking towards your ajar door. 
“Demon?” You call. 
You gain no answer, wondering if you truly did just imagine all the events from last night. 
“Jungkook-!” Said man tumbles out of your room then, groggy as all hell as he lazily rubs his eyes and appears to you as death himself, though still delectably hot. 
Ugh, fuck him. 
“Y/N.. shit.” He addresses you, and suddenly the deep, gravelly tone of his morning voice makes your core inadvertently clench. “Y-yes?” 
“I crashed into your damn vanity in the bathroom.. why is everything of yours so tiny?” He complains first thing in the morning, now remembering just how frustrating the king of hell really is. 
“Maybe you’re just too big, demon.” He grunts his response, stalking over to you as he can’t seem to adjust to the morning light filtering into your apartment. 
You watch him approach you, gathering the necessary tableware for a quality morning breakfast. “How’d you sleep, demon?” 
Jungkook’s barely-open eyes scrutinize you as he seats himself on a stool by your counter, covering his mouth when he yawns. “Meh. I had this… this thing. I saw these pictures in my head when I was sleeping…” 
“A dream?” You assist him as you pour out a glass of milk. 
“Yeah, whatever the fuck it’s called. Anyway, I think.. I think I saw something that’ll help me get back to hell.” 
That pries your eyes open with intrigue, setting the glass of milk down for him on the counter. “Oh shit, already?” 
He nods, and you find it actually quite endearing how much his hair was tousled into this attractive bed-head, eyes puffy, lips pouting. “I saw this club.. I remember seeing it when I used to be in hell.” 
“A club?” 
“Mm,” he replies with a confirming hum as he reaches for the glass, lightly inspecting the drink as he continues. “It’s this exclusive club only for celestial beings. I heard about it sometimes among my demon subjects, but I was too busy being the mighty king of hell to give a crap.” He haughtily regards himself as he takes a moderate swig of the milk, licking his lips as he nods in approval of the beverage. 
“I like this, what is this?” 
“Milk,” you elaborate. “What about this club?” 
Jungkook takes another lazy sip as his eyes scan over the food you now plate on the counter. “Well, it’s obviously only meant for celestial beings. Demons and angels. I’m thinking if I can find even one of my demons, I could find out where the club is, and then figure out why I was kicked out of hell.” 
“Ohh,” you remark with understanding, setting aside the pan and spatula, while nabbing two forks from a drawer. “So you just have to visit this club then, correct?” 
“Correct,” Jungkook answers. “There’s just two things.” He begins as he takes the fork you hand him with ease, impressed by his adeptness for such human, mundane things. 
He must’ve watched humans for a brain-numbing amount of eons. 
“One, this one’s mainly angel territory.” 
You raise your brows in question, arms crossed and eagerly interested in the information. “There’s more than one?” 
“There are clubs scattered around Earth, it’s to allow celestial beings a place of refuge when they visit here.” Jungkook explains. “I remember seeing an American flag when I landed here, so I’m assuming I’m in America, and the only existing club here is in Chicago.” 
“Chicago?!” You exclaim with utter shock. “That’s across the entire country from here!” 
“Not the point, human.” He cuts you off with a finger. “Point is, that club will be crawling with angels, and as Lucifer they may not welcome me with open arms.” Jungkooks sets his fork down against your counter with a sigh, almost seeing his mind shift its locks and gears. 
“The only way I’ll be able to get in is if..” He pauses, serious eyes locking with yours. “Is if I bring a human with me.” 
You blink; rapidly, then slowly, then rapidly again somehow hoping it would change what you just heard. “Come again?” 
Jungkook sighs, his facial features already telling you he finds this difficult to discuss. “This club in Chicago is angel-dominant, meaning demons need to bring a human companion in order to get in. Like a truce, a sign we mean no harm.” Jungkook elaborates. “And even as Lucifer, I don’t think my charms and wit alone can get me through considering my less powerful, human form.” 
You scoff at him shamelessly tooting his own horn, wondering if he’ll ever tire of it. “Sounds like a real pickle, Luci. Wonder where you’ll find yourself a ‘measly’ human.” You snark with a snort, placing the milk back in your fridge and reaching for your mango juice. 
You swivel back around to a Jungkook who doesn’t smirk, nor grin nor tongue his cheek condescendingly, but simply leans his elbows over the counter and pressingly peers at you. As if communicating with his eyes alone… 
No, no way. No way in the fiery pits of Jungkook would you goddamn do this. 
“Jungkook, don’t you dare..” 
“Human.. it’s important.” You scoff through a humourless laugh, setting down your carton of mango juice and gesturing towards yourself in disbelief. 
“Me? You want the human to be me?” 
“Y/N…” Jungkook quite gently calls your name, a complete contrast to his arrogance and while the sound of your name on his tongue lights something within your chest, you can’t help but snort with utter derision. 
“No. I’m not fucking accompanying you all the way to Chicago just for some innocence show-and-tell.” You immediately deny him, contemplating just how crazy this is. How in the world could you just up and leave for some travelling with the devil all the way across the country? You couldn’t even take a goddamn flight considering dear-old Lucifer’s lack of passport ID. 
“Y/N.. look. I know it’s not ideal for you, but this is seriously important.” Jungkook emphasizes with a persuasive tone. “I need you…” 
Those last three words and the look of pure need in his eyes tug at the strings of your weak heart, groaning in complaint. “Jungkook, you can’t be serious. I-I have a life here! I have friends and a job and not to mention school starts back up for me in a month-” 
Jungkook suddenly rises from his seat and paces over to you, grasping a careful hold of your hands and the innate warmth he emits from his skin actually feels.. comforting. 
“Y/N, look. I get it. You have a life here on Earth, a place where you belong. But I have a life in hell, a place where I belong. Wouldn’t it be best to just accompany me and get me back to hell so I can get out of your hair?” 
“Jungkook…” You counter with an uncooperative tone, eyes communicating sympathy, but you can’t offer him the help he needs. “I can’t.” 
“This will benefit both of us, human.” Jungkook convincingly states. “I go back to hell faster, and I leave you alone faster. I know how much you don’t want me here.” 
You hesitate, eyesight faltering to your connected hands; his thumbs are actually soothing the back of your hands? When did he start doing that? 
“That’s not exactly true…” 
“Y/N, just come. I know it’s asking a lot but I really need this.” Jungkook pleads. 
“And what will you do for me in return if I come with you?” 
“Oh, Y/N, I’ll do anything. The faster I can get back to hell the faster I reclaim my full powers, and I’ll grant you anything you desire. I promise.” You’re uncertain of how strong a promise from the devil could be, deterring you from giving him an answer he wants to hear. 
With a sad sigh, you disconnect your hands from Jungkook’s. “I really can’t, Jungkook. It’s non-negotiable…” 
You watch as the usually confident, cocky man falls into an expression of glumness, silently retracting his hands. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly as he acquiesces, though seems silently upset. “Okay..” 
The gloomy pout to his cute lips does you in. “Look, Jungkook. I’m going out with friends tonight for drinks at this bar. Maybe you can tag along and you can easily find another human? I’m sure any girl would be willing to roadtrip with a super handsome guy like you across the country.” You attempt to present a peace-offering with a joke, hands shoved into your sweater paws as you hug your chest. 
“But those humans won’t be like you..” He groans with a huff, eyes evading you. 
“And what’s so different about me?” 
“You already know I’m Lucifer, that makes things 100x easier for me.” He argues. 
“Well, I found out and I ended up accepting you. Who’s to say you won’t find another human like that?” You plead your case, but Jungkook just scoffs in reply. 
“Please, do you not remember what happened when you saw that I was Lucifer?” You recall the fiasco of forks, flinging and feathers, sighing once you see his point. “Exactly. Besides, you saw me as Lucifer by accident, I can’t just be revealing my identity to anybody. It’s not allowed.” 
“But I know..?” You question genuinely, gesturing towards yourself. 
“Like I said, by accident. Though I’m assuming the Council won’t see it that way, and they’ll come for me anyway.” Jungkook more so mutters to himself as he frustratedly tongues his cheek and steps around, brewing with stress. 
“The what?” You question. 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, as though now registering just how annoyingly human you are. “Think of them as angel police, yeah?” 
You mimic his tone purposefully and he impersonates you back, scoffing to end the interaction. “Look, if you already have these angel police people on your ass then what’s the harm in telling another human? They’ll be chasing you anyway.” 
Jungkook laughs dryly, looking away from you as he shakes his head. “I can’t just do that, that’s not how it works.” 
You sigh, watching the way his jaw flexes because he’s grinding down on his teeth too hard, a clear sign of his anger. You hate that it emphasizes the sharp edge of his jawline, and that it’s actually fucking hot. 
He suddenly breaks into the slightest laughter that holds some amusement, wondering what he’s laughing at. Nonetheless, you decide to defuse this situation and try to comfort him. You meant it when you said last night you wanted to be in Lucifer’s good graces, but also remain in them no matter how irritating he is. 
You approach him amicably and grasp his bare bicep, brushing his arm in support. “Look, Jungkook. Just come with me tonight and try, okay? Maybe your answer is just an arm’s length away.” 
Jungkook’s eyes find yours, and you watch them glimmer with something akin to understanding, surprisingly loosening up at your touch. Though his irises are soon blanketed with his signature mirth as he eyes you, feeling the heat of his body suddenly radiate off him like a heatwave. 
“You sure you want me to come tonight, angel? Your friends may think I’m your scorching hot boyfriend.” 
You produce an appalling noise of disapproval, removing your hand from him and shaking off his Luciferness. “Fuck you. I’m telling them you’re my roommate and that’s final.” 
“And where exactly did you find me as a roommate? On the street?” Jungkook laughs as you shoot him a crabby glare, not missing the way his amused eyes flit over your figure with almost… likeness? 
“I’m telling them you’re a co-worker. No way am I saying I just found you on a whim, they’ll think we’re-” 
“We’re sleeping together, right?” 
You grow aggravated by the sly way he’s folded his arms and does that stupidly attractive thing where he tongues his cheek, fed up with his suggestive fun. You quickly snatch your kitchen towel in your hands and roll it up into a punishing device, rapidly smacking at him. 
Jungkook exclaims playfully as he dodges your hit. “Wo-hoah, human. Didn’t I tell you angels are good and pure beings? They don’t hit people.” He laughs as you grunt in frustration and follow his retreating form for another whack, actually landing it against his arm. 
“Hey, bad angel!” Jungkook tuts you light-heartedly as he cleverly evades your angry attacks. You hate that even while he’s riling you up, you actually liked the image of his glowing, entertained smile, his cute teeth reminding you of a bunny. 
“Says the obnoxious Lucifer!” You holler loudly in complaint, chasing him while your once warm breakfast turns unfavourably cold. 
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“And this is Jungkook, my co-worker!” You cheer as you present Jungkook to your group of friends, earning wide smiles and gawking eyes from your female friends and equally surprised male friends. 
“Hey, everyone.” Jungkook waves with a confident smile, showcasing his adorable teeth for a lovable grin. 
Did he seriously have to be cute too?
You snap out of it once you see your friends all greeting him kindly, Jungkook only left to shyly smile and reply shortly to all the inquiries he gains. His lost eyes find yours and he reveals genuine fear in them, silently requesting you to come join him and let up the traffic of questions. 
A snort escapes you as you watch on, who knew Lucifer could actually be awkward? You swear he should’ve been a natural with people, though you contend he just doesn’t do well with so many questions at once. 
To be fair, he’s never been around other humans before either. 
You grant him mercy by sliding in beside him, shooting pleasant grins all around as you answer the dozens of questions your friends ask about your new gorgeous co-worker. 
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“Doesn’t he just look like one of those men that’ll eat you out until he can’t breathe?” 
“Oh for sure, looks like he’d stuff himself full and even when you tell him to breathe he just says no.” 
“Hell, he’d be that type that pulls your hips back down over his face when you try to let him breathe.” 
“Guys..!” You interject as your friends Madison, Naila and Kiara all giggle together. You’re all huddled together drinking by the bar as your friends become more interested in observing Jungkook in all his dripping sexiness. 
And to be honest, you don’t really blame them, he’s wearing that scorching hot leather outfit again. 
“Y/N, seriously. How could you not tell us someone that hot worked with you?” 
“This has got to be a crime, were you gate-keeping him?” Naila suddenly complains as you quell their grievances. 
“Guys, he just.. got transferred to my department recently. He’s new.” You find a quick enough and convincing lie. 
“How did you two end up even living together? There had to have been some sort of meet-cute.” The girls all gush together when Kiara asks, all eyes shifting towards you as they excitedly await an answer. 
“Well.. we just.. got on the topic of him needing a place and we hung out sometimes. So I offered my place.” 
You feel slightly cornered, but confidently answer with another white lie. “And he said okay.” 
They all squeal together like teen girls, honestly finding amusement in their reactions. “Ugh, you’re living the dream, Y/N.” Madison suddenly slings an arm around you and tugs you towards her, gesturing towards nothing that indicates her depiction of ‘the dream’. “You’re in a roommate situation with an absolutely scorching hot guy, you’ll totally end up either falling in love or banging him!” 
“What?” You squeak as you throw back a shot of tequila Naila handed you. “No way will that happen, he’s obnoxious as hell!” 
“Ugh, babes. Even if he’s obnoxious I bet that dick isn’t.” Kiara jokes and the girls all chuckle together, tipping back their shot glasses after filling some back up. You roll your eyes and smack her arm as she exclaims, trying to lighten you up. 
“Y/N, c’mon. You deserve to have some fun after that shitty fucking ex of yours. Live a little, ya know? Whether it’s love or dick, they’re both great remedies.” 
You scoff as your lips hover over a shot glass, eyes wandering the club as if you're occupied, but really, you know it’s in an effort to look for Jungkook. It’s funny you act like you don’t know where he is, when you know his exact location. 
Your eyes flicker across the bar, finding Jungkook having casually slipped into conversation with the boys tonight. He was laughing and happily tipping back shots himself, amused that he at least eased up and found some company with your male friends. 
Sights absorbed in suddenly eyeing him, it’s truly difficult to pry your gaze away. No way was this Jungkook’s impact of being Lucifer, you now knew you needed to be very close, or at least touching him in order to feel those effects. So why is it that you still feel this magnetic pull towards him? Can’t help but not only find him incredibly sexy in his usual outfit, but something so mysteriously alluring about him? 
Your body wanted him, you knew that much. Anyone with eyes and functioning reproductive organs would know that, but you couldn’t shake off the fact that it wasn’t just your body that wanted him.
He was just so intriguing, and you wanted to know more. 
Suddenly, Jungkook’s eyes casually shift from your friend Hobi he’s speaking to, and locks with your gaze across the bar. You freeze, eyebrows raising as you hesitate to take your shot, caught in a stare with him you can’t break. 
Jungkook stares back, and he stares goddamn good. He tongues his cheek again irritatingly and you try to swallow down the way he makes your core light up. Jungkook then tilts his head a little downwards with a cracked smirk, before he peers up at you again with eyes so devilishly smoldering, you could feel a sweat break out at the nape of your neck. 
You gulp as Jungkook then tips his head to the side with a light furrow of his brows, as if questioning you what’s wrong, and you lightly nod to him nothing. He laughs a little, hating that he finds this somehow amusing. You’re in the middle of narrowing your eyes at him until Naila interrupts you, Jungkook cleverly looking away then. 
“See, they’re practically eye-fucking already!” You shoot them all an annoyed look as you grunt in complaint. 
“Are you sure you guys aren’t together?” Madison inquires. “It seems like he already likes you, babes.” 
You click your tongue in disapproval. “He just likes to tease me, guys. Drop it, would you?” 
“As long as you land on his face, then everything should be good.” The drunk girls giggle together, and you can’t help but snicker at the joke. You contemplate in your tipsy head there really is something about Jungkook’s smoking hot face that makes it seem so rideable. 
“I’ll be back, guys. Stay here.” You instruct the girls as you set your shot glass down. You weave through the throngs of people mingling and dancing in the bar, ignoring your girls’ hollers of encouragement as you bee-line towards Jungkook. 
You reach the occupied man and tug lightly at the end of his sleeve for his attention. “Jungkook!” You shout over the blaring speaker the guys are all near. 
Jungkook’s vision snaps to you as he simultaneously touches your wrist to acknowledge you. Your skin ignites at a simple touch of his, feeling a rush you’ve never experienced before. You blink it away before lightly tugging him aside, speaking to him. 
“What’s up, human!” The booming bass of synth-pop beats abuses your eardrums, requiring both you and Jungkook to yell at each other. 
“Why haven’t you talked to anyone yet!” 
“Huh!” He hollers in response.
You exclaim in complaint as you lean in a little towards his ear, shouting louder. “I brought you here to talk to someone and bring with you, why haven’t you been talking to anyone yet!” 
Jungkook draws back and signals to you he can’t hear, rolling your eyes and curling your palm around his wrist, dragging him through the crowd. You tug him into the secluded restroom area where it’s much quieter, the shut door closing out the music. 
“Ah, that’s much better.” Jungkook notes. 
“I was asking if you’ve talked to anyone about Chicago yet, Jungkook.” You repeat yourself from earlier, hand still holding onto his wrist. “That’s what I brought you here for, remember?” 
“Hey, I’ve been talking to people,” Jungkook defends himself, though his expression falters into one of hesitancy. “Kind of..?” 
You glower at him, “Jungkook, what do you mean by ‘kind of’?” 
Jungkook sighs, shoulders slumping as he surprisingly doesn’t even make you let go of him. You can feel that rush of his energy coursing through you, but you manage the invasive feeling as you focus on the conversation instead. 
“I’ve been trying to get it out of me but.. I just never end up asking.” You exclaim in annoyance as you scold him.
“Jungkook, why not?!” 
“Because it’s just weird, okay, Y/N?” Jungkook argues. “I’m meeting these people for the first time, I can’t just fucking ask them to hitchhike with me all the way across the damn country.” 
“But it was completely okay to ask me?” 
Jungkook kisses his teeth with a roll of his eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you you’re different, human?” 
“Well, I’m not any different when you always call me a ‘human’ anyway, demon.” 
Jungkook becomes fed up with your pestering and scoffs. “Whatever. You’re the only human I can do this in front of and not have someone screaming their head off.” Jungkook emphasizes his point by conjuring up a hot flame from his palm. His suddenly glowing red eyes also appear, shooting you an ‘I-told-you-so’ look of challenge as you glare back at him. 
You’re seconds from retorting until you’re suddenly interrupted by the shrieking of a woman. You’re startled as your unsuspecting vision falls to a random stranger who had just ventured out of the bathroom and…
“Fire, fire!” 
You and Jungkook both look at the flame in his palm, then towards the woman in fear, finally locking anxious eyes with one another and panicking. Jungkook puts out the fire and you rapidly approach the woman to calm her down, hoping nobody can hear how goddamn loudly she’s screaming. 
“Shh, oh my God. It’s okay, it’s a prank. It’s a prank!” You repeatedly yell in order to shut the lady up, but she keeps yelling and trying to make a horrified break for her purse. She scrambles inside and you both watch her fish out a small bottle of something that’s engraved with almost-visible writing.
Holy Water. 
“A demon, it’s a demon!” She shrills so goddamn ear-splittingly, you and Jungkook leap into flight mode. He engulfs your arm in his and tugs you towards him urgently.
“Y/N, we have to go!” 
You curse repeatedly as Jungkook swings open the doors to the club and you shoot the woman apologizing glances, begging for her to put a damn sock in it. Jungkook takes the lead as he drags you out into the bar. He rapidly pulls you through people and ensures he keeps a tight hold of your arm, tugging you incredibly close to his own body as some sort of shield. 
Your friends end up seeing you both fleeing and shooting you looks of either ‘what the fuck’ or ‘get it on!’ as you practically hide your face in embarrassment. You and Jungkook hurtle out into the blissful night as he tugs you both down the way he knows you parked your car. You grunt in raging frustration once you realize that you parked it far with this place being downtown. 
“Ugh! You just had to fucking use your powers out in the open!” You complain aloud while you run with Jungkook, not caring now for the few late-night city stragglers hearing you. 
“Not my fault you keep nagging me about finding another human!” Jungkook argues as he continues pulling you down the road, the fear of authorities being called by the random woman scaring him. “Do you see now why you’re the only one who can come with me?!” 
You whine as you consider he’s correct, there’s no use in him searching for another human for ages when you exist right before his eyes. “Fine, fine! I’ll fucking go with you, asshole! Can we just stop fucking running?!” 
You become too tired to keep up with Jungkook, feet aching in your shoes once you realize how fast Jungkook was going, hands dropping to your knees as he releases you. 
“You… you run.. fucking fast.” You heave for air as you register the sweat on your forehead, having participated in too much exercise just now. 
“I’m a little faster as Lucifer, human.” Jungkook elaborates oh-so-obviously as you wave him off, squawking for air as though you were a fish out of water. 
“You okay?” Jungkook asks as he nears your bent over form with a hand, and you swallow harshly as you tell him to give you a minute. You’re focusing on resupplying your lungs oxygen until you suddenly feel arms cupping underneath your body, and are unexpectedly hoisted up in the air. 
You squeal as you find Jungkook’s lifted you off the ground bridal-style, freaking out at just how strong he is. “J-Jungkook, put me down! You can’t carry me all the way to the car?!” 
Jungkook swiftly ignores you as he begins jogging towards the direction of your car, and quite frankly does so almost too easily. “I’m fast and strong as Lucifer, human. I can handle you.” 
Jungkook quells your worries as your round eyes watch him flash a look down at you, and try to stifle the flutter of your heart when he shoots you a show-stopping smile. 
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It was the day of your trip, and having woken up at the ass crack of dawn to get on the roads early, you and Jungkook currently load your car with your luggage enough for two weeks of travelling. You groan as you rub an exhausted eye, yawning when you feel sleep still beckoning you to your warm bed. 
You stand frozen in your spot as you refuse to move the suitcase resting at your feet, rather staring at it with delirium instead. 
You feel a sudden nudge to your shoulder, finding Jungkook settling beside you. “Hey, sleepyhead, get moving.” He instructs in rather a light, encouraging tone, finding that very different from his usually pushy tone. 
Sight still filled with sleep, your eyes remain locked on Jungkook shooting you one last look before he’s hauling a duffle bag over his shoulder, and carries another heavy suitcase effortlessly, hating that it all made his biceps pop so goddamn sickeningly.
Did Lucifer really have to be ripped?  
You roll your eyes at how unfair this is; Jungkook having begged you last week to take him on a small shopping spree so he had enough trendy clothes to wear and didn’t have to keep sporting your Hello Kitty shirt. Not only that, but you had to spend even more bucks purchasing him necessary things to even live in the human world; his own toothbrush, cologne, hell, even boxers were on the list with Jungkook’s shameless ass promising he’ll shower you in gold once he’s ruling hell again. 
Jungkook suddenly waves his hand before your eyes, perking up as your eyes shift upwards to accommodate for his height. “Hello, human? I need you with me.” 
You blink rapidly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.” 
“You okay? I know you didn’t sleep well with everything you needed to arrange.” Jungkook’s palm curls around your arm, carefully inspecting your features. “How was your call with work?” 
“Not terrible. They were kinda pissed. I was asking for vacation time at the last minute but when I explained it was a family emergency, they weren’t so annoyed about it.” Jungkook approves of that as he rubs your arm supportively. 
“I promise we’ll be back in two weeks, and your life will go right back to normal, human.” Jungkook grants you another promise as he sends a small smile, earning a miniscule, tired grin from you. 
“Did you get the last of everything from inside my apartment?” You gesture towards your building. 
“Yeah, I got everything. Just your suitcase left.” You nod in understanding as you bend down to lug at your suitcase. You struggle as your palms fasten onto the bag but find the weight too much for your flimsy arms. You make a rather resilient effort to tug it towards the trunk of your car with all your might, until Jungkook’s hand suddenly replaces yours on the handle. 
His presence casts you aside as he shoots you a tight-lipped smile and lifts your luggage himself, tucking it into your trunk effortlessly and shutting the hood. You stand frozen at the sudden kind gesture, brows furrowed in confusion. 
Did he just do something nice for me? 
You decide not to snarkily comment on it, instead shutting your mouth and making towards your beat up Prius.
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Ironically, AC/DC blasts through your car’s speakers, snickering a little once you consider you genuinely are on the ‘Highway to Hell’. 
Your laugh catches Jungkook’s attention, who’s enthusiastically pretending to drum the exact beats of the rock song. With your peripheral, you find Jungkook completely enjoying himself before shooting a look at you, then back out on the road again. 
You and Jungkook were about 2 hours into driving now, having decided to blare the music in order to keep each other awake in the early morning. 
“You sure you don’t want me to drive, human?” Jungkook asks as he settles in his seat, getting comfy as your hands remain at ten and two. 
“Nah, it’s okay. If I don’t drive I’ll fall asleep.” 
“You kinda look like you need it.” You shoot him a glare as you move a hand to smack at his arm, to which Jungkook hisses and tuts. 
“Hey, focus on the road, will you?” 
You hear him laugh while you roll your eyes, returning your hand to the steering wheel. “Fuck you, do you even know how to drive, demon?” 
“Of course I do. It isn’t too difficult.” Jungkook shrugs as though you were both discussing apple-picking. 
“And how to hell do you know that?” 
Jungkook scoffs a dry laugh, taking a long, deep sigh. “Sweetheart, you have no clue how long I’ve been watching humans.” 
He reclines back in his seat as he shuts his eyes, tossing the heels of his shoes over your dashboard until you swat violently at his legs, sneering reprimandingly. “Hello? This is my car? Get your dirty feet off.” 
You shove his legs off and Jungkook awakes with a disagreeable scowl. “What the fuck? Can’t a guy goddamn rest?” 
“You’re Lucifer, Jungkook. Not a human, remember?” You purposefully chide with a saccharine tone, and you listen to him scoff. 
“Awh, he’e becoming more human everyday.” 
Jungkook mocks you before you find his arms tightly folding over his chest, huddling against the window as he genuinely attempts to get some shut-eye. You presume he’s not so used to needing sleep. 
“Do you even know if this is the right way, Jungkook?” You ask, ensuring with him every now and then if he wasn’t just simply leading you to your demise somewhere. Who knows, maybe the real way for him to get back into hell is by sacrificing a human life through a ritual or something. 
You shiver hoping that’s not true at all. 
“Yes, I know..” Jungkook grumbles with his closed eyes and an exhausted body, watching him peacefully come to rest. 
You decide to not bother him considering he did complete most of the work packing and loading all your luggage for the road trip this morning, needing to have woken up before you for the task. You shoot a glance at his resting state, his lips falling into that pout you’ve now noticed over the week, in fact, is a natural habit of his. 
He usually makes it when he falls asleep. 
With an acknowledging side-grin, you turn down the volume of the music, and focus on driving again. 
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“You just had to eat all the Fuzzy Peaches, didn’t you?” 
“No I didn’t, there were only three left once I even got the bag, it was you.” 
“And you couldn’t spare some for me? I’ve been driving for 4 hours!” 
That particularly stupid argument is what led both you and Jungkook to pull into this convenience store along the side of a quite bustling street. Car washes, lauder mats, even a brunch diner were all located in this small plaza ‘Ed’s Convenience’ was also in. Across the street from you was a supermarket, the rest of the area littered with stores whatever odd town in California housed. 
Currently, you were waiting for Jungkook to return to you from the convenience store. Despite now knowing him and his tendency to snack a lot, you allowed him to take your card after he promised that you would be given the choice of always deciding where you eat. 
You had to seriously discuss with Jungkook that money was going to be your biggest issue on this trip. Considering gas, eating out, staying at hotels, a lot of your own personal finances were going to be depleted just for this 2 week trip. Jungkook yet again, promised indefinitely that once he returned to hell he would be able to conjure up triple what you spent on him, along with a slew of fake-sobs that you reluctantly agreed to in order to shut him up. 
You roll your eyes remembering the interaction, having set a strict rule with him that your money will have to be managed and budgeted very well while on this trip. Sometimes you would both have to survive on convenience store food, sometimes it would be best to just camp out in the car together rather than always spending nights at crappy motels. 
The sound of gravel crunching catches your attention, soon finding Jungkook appearing before you. He was wearing black ripped jeans, combat boots, black shirt all tied together with his leather jacket, holding a bag of convenience store goodies as he plopped down next to you on the trunk of the car. 
He currently munches on some gummy worms as you watch him, finding that he probably appeared the most innocent when he was eating. His eyes go round as though he’s a child eating food for the first time, and he chews in his adorable pout you can’t help but admire, rather ironic for the sinful king of hell. 
You never expected to see him in such a domestic, human state. 
His eyes flash to you and you wake up from your trance, clearing your throat before flickering back to your laptop screen. “You’re back, demon.” 
“Mm,” he hums, reaching into his bag and suddenly presenting you with a bag of Fuzzy Peaches. You raise your eyebrows in surprise as your hand tentatively clasps around it. 
“For me?” 
“Well, you threw a whole tantrum over em’.” 
You immediately move to elbow him but he defend himself, laughing as he presents the bag of candy. You accept the bag with a scoff, disguising the grateful smile and flutter that threatens your heart at the gesture. 
“What are you looking at?” He inquires with narrowed eyes to get a better look at the screen. 
“Google maps. I know you said the club you need to visit is in Chicago, but do you know the exact location so that it’s easier once we’re in Chicago? I need to know which highways to take.” 
Jungkook nibbles on the last of a gummy worm as he pouts his lips in thought, watching the clear blue sky above him. “I told you, we’d have to ask one of my demon subjects in order to find that out.” 
You nod in comprehension. “Do you know anyone we could possibly visit for an exact address?” 
Jungkook reaches inside his packet for another bite of a gummy worm. “I do. I think most of my subjects would know, though the only one I can recall the exact location of is a demon named Azazel.” He snaps a piece of his gummy worm in half, bringing one of them to his lips for a nibble as he details. “He’s one of the Princes of hell, serves right under me. He likes to hang out at this one place in Nevada I think. He’d definitely know where the celestial club is located.” 
You purse your lips as you absorb the information, checking it through with him. “Prince of hell?” 
“Yeah,” Jungkook nods. “They’re these 7 princes that are meant to represent the Seven Deadly Sins. They’re a ranking just below me, powerful beings but they’d never dare defy me.” Jungkook proudly remarks, watching the way he straightens up his slouched back and squares his shoulders. 
“That’s interesting. Which sin does this Azazel demon represent?” 
“Lust. Or, well, vanity.” Jungkook clarifies. “But when I say he’s a super weird one, I mean it. He’s got his own very… unique tastes he thinks very highly of.” Jungkook grimaces as he seems to remember something bone-chilling about the demon. He then laughs, however, finishing off the last of his gummy worms as he regards you beside him, trying not to squirm at how much larger he is than you, or how he even makes damn ripped jeans look scorching hot.  
“Take a guess where you think we’ll find someone like him?” 
You furrow your brows as you tilt your head in question, Jungkook’s eyes lighting up at the adorable gesture of yours. “Where?” 
6 hours later, you stand frozen, mouth agape, legs unmoving. You listlessly stare at a loud, flashy neon-pink sign that depicts the image of an erotically-posed woman wrapped around a pole, along with the name “The Devil Wears Prada” ironically plastered underneath in cursive. 
It’s a fucking stripclub. 
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You peer at Jungkook absolutely bewildered, blinking a few times to compute whether or not he was serious. Jungkook merely stands all too giddy, arms folded over his chest as he flashes you a beaming smile. 
He’s having way too much fun with this.
“Jungkook..” You draw out his name with a scolding. 
“Oh c’mon, Y/N, it’ll be fun.” He attempts to warm you up to the idea, nudging your elbow too adorably. 
You shoot him a dirty look and snatch your arm away from him, exhaling annoyingly. “Did it really have to be a stripclub?” 
“Why?” Jungkook queries. “Have you never been to one?” 
You freeze, suddenly a lump forming in your throat and trying to swallow it down. You’re not sure how you’re going to tell Jungkook that you actually have without revisiting a long-gone memory from your past. Your eyes evade him completely then, squeezing your folded arms tighter. “I have.” 
Jungkook furrows his brows. “Is.. there a problem?” 
“No just-get us inside, will you? It’s not exactly warm out here.” You begrudgingly complain as you harshly tug your cardigan around yourself. You hate that the temperature suddenly dropped significantly at night, leaving you freezing in your tank top, jean shorts and a measly wool cardigan. 
You internally groan then, not just at the weather but standing in front of this Godforsaken place. The entire idea of a stripclub is off-putting to you, and it’s not like you’ll tell Jungkook exactly why. 
You didn’t want to recall the god awful person attached to it. 
All of a sudden, you’re enveloped by the warmth of a jacket around your shoulders. You surprisingly snap to your right and find Jungkook adjusting his cozy leather jacket over you, warm from his usual higher temperature. Your lips fall into a quizzical little pout. 
“Why’d you...” 
“Let’s go inside, we don’t want Azazel leaving, do we?” 
You regard Jungkook with round eyes as he simply sends you a smile, halting yourself from swooning over the deadly image. He wraps a warm palm around your wrist and drags you to the entrance of the club, silently following him with the hint of a shy smile. 
A long line awaits outside the door, but Jungkook confidently stalks over to the security guard on duty. The man almost protests angrily until Jungkook glowers at him with his crimson eyes, sending the man to instantly shiver with fear. He graciously opens the door for you both without a hitch, even granting you VIP access badges. 
Impression is all that colours you as you contemplate Jungkook’s mere unmatched power, knowing damn well you’ll refrain from pissing him off too much, You slip inside the lively club with Jungkook, and unconsciously slide your fingers into his with acutely rising nerves, squeezing slightly. 
And surprisingly enough, Jungkook squeezes back. 
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Your pairs of once peaceful ears are welcomed by the sound of raunchy music blasting over the speakers, scantily-clad women dancing on a neon platform with a shimmering pole, and also decorating the many suit-wearing men in the crowds. 
You feel out of place, awkward, only having been in a stripclub once, and it was not your best experience at all. You clasp Jungkook’s hand a little harder this time, even cowering into his much larger form as people pass you by and disregard all means of space. 
Jungkook’s eyes sweep over the place with nothing but mischief and mirth, watching his eyes smolder a fiery red with a smug grin.
“Fuck, now this is my place.” This must be exactly where Jungkook thrives; sin litters this place from left to right and you assume it’s channeling his powers of pure evil. 
You fear a human possibly sighting his Lucifer eyes though, and quickly prop yourself on your tip-toes. Your hand curls over his shoulder and you speak to him in his ear, Jungkook instinctively bending down. “Jungkook, your eyes.” 
“Hm?” His round orbs stare into your soul inquisitively, and you suddenly realize he actually has very big eyes, almost doe-like. 
“Your eyes, they’re red. Someone will notice.” 
“Oh,” Jungkook blinks a few times and dials down the heat, dispersing the colour. “Better?” 
“Better.” You nod. It takes a good second for you to notice how close your faces are to each other, however, and your breath catches in your throat. Jungkook’s lips curve into a little smile when he sees that, becoming too swept up in his ocean and immediately removing yourself from him. Only your hands clutch each other as you avert your sight. 
You continue to evade him and Jungkook instead zeroes in on you, scrutinizing your features. “Are you okay?” 
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” 
“Oh my God, don’t tell me you totally lied about going to a stripclub.” Jungkook drawled. “You’re so innocent.” 
Jungkook makes it a statement to ruffle the top of your head, and you quickly smack his hand away as you send him a death glare. “I’m not lying, for your information. I have been to a stripclub, and I’m not that innocent.” 
You have no clue the things I’ve thought of.
Jungkook cracks a sexy grin. “Hmm, are you sure about that?” He leans in eye-level with you suddenly, and you lean back in accordance. “I’m sensing something else here.” 
“The only thing you should be sensing is Azazel, demon.” You shove him back and Jungkook lets out a hearty laugh, rolling your eyes in response. 
“You’re right, I actually can sense him. He should be here.” Jungkook scans the place with his demonic eyes, attempting to discern where exactly Azazel may be. 
You’re busy hmphing when you move to cross your arms, and realize that Jungkook, while distracted, is still holding your hand. You peer down at the means of contact, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling suddenly spreading across your chest. You push it away once Jungkook turns to you, ensuring he doesn't catch you staring at your connected hands. 
“I think he may be in one of the VIP rooms, I’m going to check, okay?” 
“Wait,” you pull him back, Jungkook all ears for you. “Why are you going alone? I can’t come?” 
Jungkook chuckles a little. “Demons usually take up the vip rooms in this club,” Jungkook then suddenly tugs you towards him without warning, and you tumble directly into his chest. You peer up at him in complete surprise, only to find his smile absolutely shit-eating. 
“I wouldn’t want an angel like you in a den of sinners.” 
Your heart hammers against your ribcage, being this close to him just sets off an insatiable fire inside you that’ll never have an explanation anymore. Maybe it’s Jungkook’s attraction as Lucifer, you’re not sure, but suddenly feeling his chest against yours, mere inches from his lips, his eyes only on you in a room full of exotic, topless dancers, you feel yourself falling into his abyss. 
Why can’t I just kiss his cute lips?
A shove to Jungkook’s shoulder by a stranger snaps you out of it, immediately adding space between you two. “G-go find Azazel.” You see Jungkook crack a knowing grin before he holds up his hands in mock surrender. 
“Alright, alright.” He vindicates himself, but suddenly winds an arm around your shoulders, his lips brushing your ear. He tugs you close enough to catch a whiff of the coffee you both drank on the way here, trying not to ignite at the feeling of his lips touching your skin. 
“Stay here, don’t talk to anyone. Don’t take a drink from a stranger either, only wait for me.” He instructs firmly with a squeeze to your arm, turning to the side to question him why, but Jungkook has already let you go. He disappears into the crowd and booming club then, before you can even breathe. 
Damn, he really is fast as Lucifer. 
You suddenly become reclusive in the grandiose, erotic club. All you see are boobs and sexy women flaunting their gorgeous bodies, and as much as you find it downright impressive, respecting the hell out of the stunning dancers, a pit settles into your stomach.
Stripclubs just aren’t your thing, they never have been. Especially after what your asshole of an ex did to you in a stripclub before, they unsettle you to the very core. It brews a storm in your heart you can’t remedy nor can ever forget, sighing as you suddenly wish Jungkook didn’t leave you alone. 
What the fuck? When did you even need his presence around in the first place? 
You shake the jitters out of you. You won’t let some dark part of your past haunt you anymore nor think about the literal devil himself, you’re far beyond that and a healed person. 
You sigh as you contemplate what you’re meant to do now, Jungkook’s instructions of staying put and not even touching a drink producing your sheer boredom. You stand with your arms folded and step towards the bar ensuring you weren’t in the way of any dancing women, or didn’t catch the eye of some ogling man waving money. 
Blowing a raspberry, you silently bop around to a sultry rock beat as a new stripper presents herself on stage. Your own eyes are glued to her almost instantly, surprised by how gorgeous she is and mentally commending her for her graceful figure and well.. generous assets. 
Out of boredom, her show becomes your center of attention until a sudden tap to your shoulder turns you around. You come face-to-face with a very handsome bartender. 
“Sorry to interrupt, but this drink’s for you.” He sends you a polite smile. 
“Oh, but I didn’t order a drink.” 
“I know, I ordered one for you.” You’re internally taken aback by not only the man’s boldness, but his drop-dead gorgeous smile. A grateful grin creeps up onto your lips as you chuckle a little.
“And why did you do that?” 
The handsome stranger shrugs. “It looked like you needed one.” 
You slowly wet your lips as you try to keep from smiling too wide, encircling the glass. “That’s awfully kind of you.” 
“Don’t mention it,” he waves you off. There’s a simple moment where you’re merely looking at your glass, taking it in your hand for a drink until Jungkook’s voice rings clearly in your head. 
‘Don’t drink anything either.’ 
You furrow your eyebrows wondering why you exactly couldn’t. You teeter on either defying him or simply choosing to listen, not knowing how severe his order was. You buffer on the drink until the man’s rather hypnotizing voice pulls you out. 
“So.. what’s a woman like you doing here all alone?” 
You quirk a brow. “And who exactly is a woman like me?” 
“Too pretty to be alone.” 
You crack a chuckle at that, the charm he’s laying suddenly loosening you up. “That’s a good one.” 
“Good enough to know whether you’re alone or not?” 
You hesitate on an answer here, not knowing his intentions but giving him an honest answer nonetheless. “No, I’m.. not here alone.” 
“Are you here with a boyfriend?” 
Your heart stops at that, someone referencing Jungkook of all people as your damn boyfriend feels ridiculous. Even imagining such a thing leaves you sneering, and no the idea does not make your heart swell or your chest flutter. In no corner of the world will you find even a measly speck of you considering Jungkook as your boyfriend, a good idea. He’s only the smoldering hot king of the underworld that seems to actually be nice despite being the master of sin, has these cute doe eyes when he’s confused or these pouty lips whenever he eats. 
And he does not have you undeniably attracted to him. 
Not at all. 
“N-no, not my boyfriend.” You choke on your saliva. 
“Ah, so I don’t have to worry about a jealous man or anything.” He smirks all too handsomely. 
“And why exactly would a jealous man bother you?” 
“Because I’d like to make you mine tonight.” 
You feel your heart experience whiplash in your chest as you feel it bloom with fuzziness. Suddenly his smile is show-stopping, the way he leans over the counter emphasizes his muscles and his black button-up hugs his body like a second skin. 
“Have a drink and loosen up, gorgeous.” The smoldering bartender tongues his cheek, and suddenly his jawline is looking too good to not kiss up.
With a smirk of your own, you run your tongue inside your cheek as well, a fire lighting inside you. Your fingers curl around your glass of what seems to be a cocktail, suddenly thirsty for a drink. You eye up the handsome stranger as you bring the glass to your lips, tipping your drink over. 
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jungkook’s voice startles you as he suddenly clamps down on your wrist and displaces your drink, spilling some on you. “Didn’t I tell you not to drink anything or talk to anyone?” 
His sudden rude tone ticks you off. “Jungkook, it’s just a drink-” 
“Hey, man. I was just talking to her.” 
Jungkook’s eyes immediately become annoyed regarding the stranger behind the bar, quickly approaching him with a furious look. “I’m not some ‘man’, and I know you aren’t either.” 
Jungkook then violently grabs the bartender’s collar and tugs him over the counter harshly, the anger in his eyes absolutely searing. You panic as Jungkook’s harsh actions catch the attention of others nearby, your glass now empty as it spills over. 
“Jungkook-!” You try to pull him back, only to be completely surprised with what you see next. 
Jungkook’s eyes spark into a demonic fire as he stares into the man’s very soul, and you watch as the bartender’s irises suddenly reveal a deep shade of red himself. You falter back in shock as the man’s features immediately paint over with terror so horrific, he scrambles to be let go of.
“Sir, please-” 
“Get the fuck out of my face.” 
The once smirky and charming bartender turns into the equivalent of a crybaby, practically tripping over his feet as he runs off to cower away in the employee’s break room. Jungkook without a word snatches up your hand and begins leading you through the club, ignoring the concerned eyes that follow you two. You’re overridden by a million questions as he relentlessly pulls you, not even granting you a moment’s rest.
“Jungkook, Jungkook! What are you-” 
“Did I not fucking telling you to stay put and not talk to anybody? Did you think I said that for fun?” 
The irritation in his tone makes you feel guilty, and maybe you’re realizing your mistake, but Jungkook didn’t have to be so damn pushy about it. 
“I don’t exactly see the problem-” 
“That was the problem.” Jungkook suddenly stops you both before a dimly lit corridor as he gestures in the direction of the bar. His breaths are hot and heavy as his eyes cut you cold. 
“And what kind of problem was that? He was just a bartender-” 
“He was a demon,” Jungkook emphasizes. “This place is crawling with them.” 
Something about the anger in Jungkook’s face either makes you feel turned on, want to argue back, or a deadly combination of both, 
Why is it so sexy when his jaw clenches like that? 
You try to ignore the way your legs suddenly squirm. “So what if he was a demon?” 
Jungkook scoffs dryly, wetting his lips as he looks away. “That’s what the demons do here. They reel human women in with their charms, roofie their fucking drinks and get them alone.” He then mutters under his breath, focusing on nothing in particular with sheer indignation. “You have no clue the disgusting things he was thinking.” 
You scrunch your face in confusion. “And you do?” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he simply huffs, “it wasn’t hard to tell. Do you even know what a demon would do to an unsuspecting human like you?” 
His evasiveness and avoidance of making eye contact only increases your pissy mood, folding your arms with a pressing question. “And since when did it bother you what happens to me?” 
Eyes flashing to you, Jungkook only produces a mean look of hesitation. His jaw clenches as he gnaws at his teeth, lips impatiently pressed together. He then simply takes your hand in his, muttering yet again. “I found Azazel, let’s go.” 
And he drags you away as you unwillingly tag along. 
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You and Jungkook stop before a rather grand-looking door, noticing it’s probably the most expensive and exorbitant among the hallways. The entrance is perched by two guards on both flanks, a stern-looking man and an evil looking woman, both staring you and Jungkook down as though they could see right through you.  
Jungkook clears his throat, proudly presenting himself with a look of unbothered confidence. “Good evening, underlings. I need to see Azazel.” 
“And who might be asking?” The sultry woman practically slithers out her words. 
Jungkook rolls his eyes before he, for the dozenth time, flashes them his scarlet eyes, watching the stoic man raise his brows in surprised acknowledgement, as the woman merely shivers in pleasure. Both their own eyes glow a deep shade of ruby, and you now understand that they’re demons as well.
Did Lucifer have some sort of connection or invisible linkage between all demons? Was there something about his eyes? 
“Ah, the king himself is here.” She cheers, clasping her hands together with excitement. Her vision flashes down to Jungkook cradling your hand in his, though, but she doesn’t show any disapproval or bitchiness about it, rather seems intrigued. 
She abandons her post and makes towards Jungkook, her red dress accentuating every slim curve of her body. She laughs an almost harmonious giggle as her hands soon land over Jungkook’s chest, biting her bottom lip as she asks in a whisper. 
“Is it really you, master?” 
Jungkook merely laughs, tilting his head as he condescendingly asks. “Who else would it be?” 
Her eyes flicker with fire, fingers slowly feeling over much of Jungkook’s muscly body as he simply allows her to do so. His expression doesn’t really communicate much of anything however, as though he’s bored and simply letting the demon have her fun. Clearly the attraction to Jungkook isn’t just a human thing, he has practically all creatures on their knees for him, and he seems to know it too. 
Arrogant prick. 
A laugh escapes you suddenly, and the female demon’s attention immediately snaps towards you, eyes narrowed into slits. 
“And who might this be?” 
“None of your concern.” Jungkook tugs you a little closer to his body, almost shielding you. You can only intently watch, unable to do much of anything. But the female demon boldly ignores Jungkook, too enthralled by you to remain obedient. She approaches your figure with almost a cat-like nature, extremely curious and hyper-aware. 
You suspect absolutely nothing, until within the blink of an eye, she suddenly grapples the back of your neck and tugs you flush against her own face. You gasp in immediate fear when her fingernails transform into sharp claws. 
“Amara.” Jungkook scolds with a reprimanding tone as he squeezes your hand, but she only continues on, the bridge of her nose skimming the arch of your cheekbone. She actually sniffs you, and her lips curve into a downright demonic smile. 
“A human..” She chimes lowly, but is only interrupted by an irritated Jungkook. 
“Amara, let her go. She belongs to me.” Jungkook instructs firmly, and your heart does a backflip inside your chest. When did you ever become his? 
Even worse, when did you actually like the idea? 
“Is that why she’s wearing your clothes, master?” She queries as her sharp hand rests over your shoulder, feeling at Jungkook’s leather jacket on you. “Master never gives his clothes to anyone.” 
The fact leaves your eyes widening, looking towards Jungkook who merely sighs. He then holds onto Amara’s shoulder and forces her to face him, seriously peering into her eyes. 
“Amara, let her go.” Jungkook’s eyes beam a vibrant red as he authoritatively orders. “I will not ask you again.”  Amara immediately lets you go then with thinly-pursed lips, holding her head up high as she returns to her post. 
Jungkook wets his lips in frustration before he turns to you and gently gathers your hair in his hands, carefully peeking behind your neck. He lightly whispers in your ear, “did she hurt you?” 
Ignoring the goosebumps that arise across your skin, your fingertips canvas over your neck as you feel the slightest sting in a certain area, knowing it must be a scratch. “Not really.” 
Jungkook laughs then, and you furrow eyebrows. “Why’d you just laugh?” 
“Because the desire to sin really does kick in when you’re near me, huh?” Jungkook’s pointer finger then slides over the exact cut you had, and you instantly let out a hiss. Jungkook knowingly grins. “You just lied to me.” 
You roll your eyes, seconds from swatting his hand off you until the sudden scent of coffee on his breath stops your heart. Jungkook casts your hair aside as he gently leans over your shoulder, and invades all your personal space. You’re unsure of what he’s doing until you feel his breath fanning you—he’s blowing on your cut. Surprisingly enough, it’s almost as though Jungkook’s delicate blows cauterize your wound, feeling your pain melt away in an instant. 
Sweeping your hand over the nape of your neck, suddenly it’s as though there was never a wound at all. You look at Jungkook with pure wonderment as he simply flashes you that sexy quirk of his brow and an attractive grin. Adjusting his shirt on himself, he then fixes his jacket on you, pulling it tight around your body. He turns back to the demons after finishing his task and grasps your hand yet again “We need to see Azazel, open the doors.” 
The stoic man that’s merely stood there the entire time silently clasps onto the handle. He opens the door without a complaint, standing off to the side. Jungkook enthusiastically tugs you along with him as you pass Amara, who only flashes a half-hearted smile your way before you’re greeted by something you never expected. 
Rouge curtains, a plethora of intoxicating incense, bright, vivid colours of Moroccan splendour designs attacking your eyes. The entire place is littered with these vibrantly coloured fabrics and charms, gaudy pieces of diversified collectibles and an odd earthy though spicy scent that made you throw up in your mouth. Though what catches you next are the multitude of nearly naked women sensually dancing and sitting around a quite eclectically dressed man, your brain far from boggled. 
The man’s too busy making out with a certain woman until Jungkook loudly clears his throat. “Azazel,” 
Said man, well, demon suddenly rips his mouth away from the topless woman, wiping some lipstick that smeared onto his skin. His hooded, hazed-over eyes are far more entertained when he regards Jungkook, however, lips curving into a mirthy grin. 
“My, my, if it isn’t the king of hell himself.” 
Jungkook purses his lips in acknowledgement as Azazel leans over onto his knees, waving off his dancing women. “Nobody told me you’d be visiting little old me.” 
“Maybe if you weren’t sucking the life out of female humans, you would know.” 
Azazel’s eyes bounce as though he were dealt a hit he actually liked, snickering in his throat. “A little too haughty for someone in your position, don’t you think?” 
Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, and Azazel merely scoffs. “Think the whole of hell doesn’t know what’s going on with you, boss?” He questions rhetorically. Azazel then gets up from his seat, the women around him not even minding as they seem in almost an unbreakable trance. 
‘They reel human women in with their charms, roofie their fucking drinks and get them alone.’
Fuck, Jungkook was really telling the truth. Better yet, was he genuinely trying to protect you?
He approaches Jungkook, almost too close for comfort. Jungkook squeezes your hand in response, and you stay right by his side. 
“We all know the big man upstairs kicked you out of hell and you’re about as powerless as a mouse in a glue trap, boss.” The demon, you now realize, is almost ironically nothing what you imagined the demon of lust to be like. He seems the epitome of gluttony with his larger belly and older-looking features, honestly disgusted by him. Jungkook almost reads your mind as he makes an expression of distaste too, turning his face away from Azazel’s to actually breathe. He faces him then, eyes powerful and self-assured.  
“I’m still the king, and I rank higher than you, Prince of hell.” Jungkook squashes Azazel’s ego. “I’d watch what comes out of your mouth.” 
“And I’d do the same if I were you, boss. Right now it’s looking right about rocky for you with your powers gone.” Azazel practically, or well, quite literally spits. “I’m thinking you should choose your words wisely, could probably squash you like a pesky ant on the side of a road, Your Highness.” Something about the superiority complex and condescension of Azazel ticks you off. You turn to Jungkook trying to believe what the demon said isn’t true, but Jungkook’s acquiescing expression clues you in to the fact that that’s not the case. 
Maybe he really does have to play nice right now, you didn’t know the breadth of Azazel’s powers compared to a human Lucifer, anyway. 
Jungkook sighs as he tongue his cheek. “I just need to ask a question, Azazel.” He then instinctively tugs you further behind his larger frame, but that only draws Azazel attention to you, and suddenly his once normal eyes beam with an intriguing, red hot flame. 
“And who might this be?” His creepy voice curls around your spine and makes you shiver, sending him a look of disapproval. His hand comes out to cup your cheek but you immediately smack his hand, leaning away from him. 
His eyes glow with anger as he almost lunges towards you, but is stopped by Jungkook’s arm blocking the way. “Behave, Azazel. She’s mine.”   
“Ohh,” Azazel calms down with a snarky tone, eyes still scavenging your figure as though you were a meal to consume. “The master’s keeping a toy, I see.” 
The context of that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, watching Jungkook’s expression stay predominantly blank. He squares his shoulders when he requests again. “Just answer my question, Azazel.” 
The demon hmph’s as he sends you and Jungkook a death glare, returning to his seat. “Sit down.” He practically growls. 
Jungkook leads you with him towards the vibrant indigo, velvet couch across from the weird demon. Jungkook plops down on the cushions, and just as you’re about to seat yourself next to him, he immediately tugs you forward with a force you couldn’t deny. You tumble into his lap and your ass settles over his strong, thick thighs. Your arms naturally fall around his neck as his hands delicately hold your waist, panic overflowing you once your core presses into his crotch. 
“J-Jungkook, what are you-” 
“Shh,” he grits quietly under his teeth. “Just play along.” 
You pull a confused face, watching as Azazel becomes busy speaking with one of his scarcely-dressed ladies. “What do you mean? Why do I-”
“Azazel has a thing for human girls,” Jungkook whispers closely in your ear, hands slowly soothing your side that leaves you squirmy. He suddenly dares to nibble on your lobe a little, the touch igniting a lusty flame inside you despite the initial surprise. “Especially girls like you.” 
“What-what are you doing?” 
“Acting,” he rasps in a whisper, tongue gently licking at your lobe. “Play along.” He repeats pressingly. 
“What do you mean…” You attempt to suppress a yelp when Jungkook unexpectedly bites your ear lobe, only fidgeting over him more. “Girls like me?” 
You feel Jungkook smirk as he presses a bold kiss behind your ear, a hand of his dropping to your bare thigh. He ever so slightly brushes the tips of his fingers up and down your skin, fuelling every nerve inside your sensitive body. 
“Sweet and innocent ones like you.” 
His tone is so dark, so deep and low you’re forgetting where you even are. Your grip on his shoulders tightens when Jungkook skims his nose up your pulse point, his heated breath and lips raising goosebumps all over you. You chew on your bottom lip to contain how horny you suddenly feel, as though every cell in your body wanted Jungkook kissing you, on you, inside you. The hunger was insatiable, your legs rubbing together once your panties felt too sticky. 
“Since-since when did you care? I thought you hated humans.” 
“I said I hated humans, not you.” 
“You..” You contain a moan when he grips your bare thigh. “You said you’d never be attracted to a human like me.”
A scoff escapes him as his lips graze your skin, scrunching his shirt in your fist for any semblance of control. It’s hilarious that Jungkook is so transparent about insisting you’re different, but never explains why you are in the first place. His silence now beckons you to question him again, though it comes out more akin to a moan.
Jungkook then finally latches his wet mouth onto your neck, feeling your core gush with an immediate waterfall. He begins ever so slightly mouthing at your skin, laying soft kisses that were almost feather-like, barely there, yet you felt as though you were on fire. You realized he didn’t answer, wanting to query him again but fuck, you’re too goddamn distracted by his plushy lips sinfully kissing your weak spot. 
Suppressing a moan, you manage, “why are you doing this.. Jungkook?” 
“I need to show him you’re mine..” Jungkook mumbles against your neck as he sucks a soft bruise . “So he won’t take you.” 
His words snap you out of your daze, reminded that you and Jungkook are here for a goddamn task. He wasn’t doing this because he actually wanted you, there was an underlying agenda here and you need to stop getting sucked into his tempting ocean. 
You gently push him off you and find Jungkook’s amused eyes peering at you, cracking his signature grin. You realize you must appear flushed, the heat of Jungkook’s Lucifer body too searing to handle. 
Eyes locked in an untelling gaze, this position with Jungkook feels too unreal. You’re currently perched in his lap as you hold his neck and he hugs your waist, face mere inches from each other, almost kissing but not. You hate how much you suddenly yearn to kiss his lips, wondering if that certain Lucifer attraction is the reason why, or maybe Jungkook’s lips are just so fucking kissable. 
Jungkook doesn’t break your eye contact as he juts out his tongue to swipe his bottom lip, flashing his vision down to your petals that hang slightly open. You breathe carefully attempting to not suffocate, Jungkook is seriously, and very undeniably hotter than hell. You can almost taste the coffee on his breath again as he nears you, vision flashing to his lips that suddenly seem so close…
“Cozy, now aren’t we?” 
You both snap towards Azazel in unison, clearing your throat as Jungkook plants his feet down and straightens himself. 
“What’d you wanna ask, boss? Make it quick.” Azazal tends to one of his topless girls feeling him up, practically cooing at her as he speaks annoyingly. “I’ve got better things to do.” 
Jungkook rolls his eyes, his hand on your tummy drawing soft circles. You try not to melt. 
“I need the location of a club, Azazel.” 
The demon laughs across from you both, caressing one of his dancers that flank his left side. “There are many clubs, boss. You gotta be specific.” 
“You know which one I’m talking about,” Jungkook scowls, his palm firmly clutching your bare thigh, and you try not to imagine what he’d feel like touching you elsewhere. 
What if he touched me down there?
Jungkook suddenly squeezes your thigh and you practically jump, trying to refocus on the conversation. You attempt to not pay attention to the way Jungkook’s practically eye-level with your cleavage. The mere prospect of his sexy face in your boobs leaves your legs rubbing together, nipples shamelessly hardening. 
God, why are you so horny?
“Angels Give You Wings, you know the one.” Jungkook affirms, seriously trying to work with the rather disinterested demon. 
But once the name’s up in the air, Azazel’s eyes shimmer with mirth as his attention shifts to Jungkook. “The infamous club, you say?” he asks rhetorically. “You should know it’s in Chicago.” 
Jungkook sighs. “I know it’s in Chicago, but I need the real address.” 
Azazel raises his brows. “And why would you need the real address?” 
“It’s not exactly your concern.” Jungkook cuts in all too arrogantly, Azazel narrowing his eyes. He now examines you both, almost scrutinizing the pair of you as he touches one of his strippers. 
“You two don’t look very close for a couple.” Azazel observes, flitting over your entangled bodies. You become displaced, looking towards Jungkook for an answer. But you only find him glaring back at Azazel as he cradles you in his arms, practically demon-growling at him.
Azazel hoots as he watches Jungkook’s anger grow. “Wow, would you look at the master being possessive of his toys for once.” He smiles evilly, laying both his arms over the back of the couch with a repulsive look. “If you’re being possessive of her, then you ain’t getting jack shit tonight, boss.” 
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jungkok practically spits.
“It means,” Azazel mimics Jungkook’s harsh tone. “If you wanna know the address, you need to let me read her.” 
You furrow your brows as Jungkook heavily sighs, bringing a hand to his forehead with distress. Your fingers ask for his attention through rubbing at the nape of his neck, voice quiet.
“Jungkook, what does he mean?” 
“Oh!” Azazel cheers all of a sudden. “She calls you by your real name, master? That’s wonderful!” He claps like a happy seal, now understanding what Jungkook meant by Azazel being quite the... odd type.  
Jungkook lifts his head to look at you then, eyes revealing something akin to.. Fear? Stress? You couldn’t place it accurately. “I won’t let him have you, angel.” 
You’re sure Jungkook is probably only saying this to act like you’re together, hell, even his hands slowly but soothingly caressing your waist and thigh have all probably got to do with this ruse. But something about the reveal of emotion in his eyes maybe indicated he could be speaking the truth. 
Or at least, you’d like to believe so. 
“Hand the girl over, boss.” 
Something ticks inside Jungkook as he flashes his eyes a searing red, and practically sneers at Azazel. “You’re not touching her.” 
Azazel’s amused expression only thrives off Jungkook's anger. “Well then, you won’t be getting your address, then.” 
Jungkook huffs with a dry scoff. “I’m not offering her to you anyway.” He then pats your thigh to move off him. You climb off Jungkook’s lap as he stands on his feet with you, avoiding your eyes as you wonder why he won’t just give you up. He intertwined his hand with yours in mere milliseconds as he sends Azazel a death glare. “We’re leaving, angel.” 
“You’re funny, boss. How do you expect to get your address?” 
Azazel’s condescending tone stops Jungkook, and you need to seriously squeeze Jungkook’s hand tightly in order to prevent him from charging forward. You should’ve known, Lucifer would obviously be irrationally hot-heated. But, also being the representation of Pride among the so-called seven princes of hell, he absolutely hated it when someone knocked him off his high horse. 
And that’s all Azazel has been doing. 
“I can ask any other demon.” Jungkook grits through his teeth. 
Azazel clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nuh uh. That’s an Angel-dominant club, do you really think some second-rate lackey could get in? It takes someone of my power-ranking or higher to even withstand those damn halo-wearing pricks.” 
Jungkook scoffs. “I’m Lucifer, Azazel. I can ask an angel.” 
Azazel snickers as though he were told an immature joke. “You really think an angel won't go straight to The Council and rat you out? Don’t think you’d appreciate seeing your estranged brothers in this circumstance, boss.” 
You hear a crack in Jungkook’s neck as you watch his jaw flex firmly again, except now, it seems like Jungkook could be breaking his teeth as he bites down hard. His eyes are a seething ruby, wondering what could be causing Jungkook so much heated distress. 
Brothers? Did brothers mean.. the rest of the Archangels? 
Your hand suddenly feels too hot as Jungkook practically crushes the life out of you. You exclaim in pain, realizing that Jungkook’s utterly losing his cool. You panic, knowing Jungkook is still quite powerful and you did not want to see him angry. He needs to simmer down before all hell actually breaks loose, worriedly approaching him. 
You rapidly step in front of him and grips his biceps, attempting to gain his attention. 
“Jungkook, hey, Jungkook.” You call him with light shakes, but his breaths only increase in speed. His vision is glowing a vibrant red and you can feel him entering attack mode. You protest for him yet again, to look at you, to calm down, hoping your voice can pull him out but gain no response. 
Jungkook is seconds from unleashing his flames, already raising his palm for a ferocious blast until your small hands suddenly engulf his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. 
“Jungkook!” You say it so worriedly, so sweetly that something almost automatically switches off inside Jungkook. It’s as though the figurative flames bursting out of him are extinguished, his breath stabilizing as you find his doe eyes staring back at you. 
You crack a smile as you watch his features change, becoming the exact Jungkook you met back in your apartment. 
“Human..” You’re unsure of why Jungkook’s stuck with the name, but funny enough, it made you laugh a little
“Demon..” You chide him, and he actually cracks a grin too. You wet your lips as you seriously peer into his eyes, speaking kindly. “Jungkook, you should let Azazel read me.” 
His eyes flood with something akin to anxiety and he grips your hand against his cheek, shaking his head. “No, it’s not a good idea, angel. He’ll hurt you.” 
Your lips pout slightly hearing his concern, again, unsure of whether or not this was all a ruse. You wouldn’t know. 
“What will he do?” 
“He can read minds when he touches people. Angel, demon, human, it doesn’t matter. But it hurts, especially for humans.” Jungkook warns, eyes communicating the urgency he desires to reach you. 
You can see where Jungkook’s coming from, whether it was for the ploy or his own genuine compassion, you wouldn’t want Jungkook to hurt himself just for you, either. But you knew this was important to him, he really needed to unearth that club and figure out his way back to hell. 
He needed to go back home.
You’ve already tagged along and come this far, not to mention how many times Jungkook really did show concern for you and helped you out. You should repay that kindness and help him too. 
“Jungkook, you really need that location.” You explain softly. “It’s okay, it won’t be for long, right? I can endure it.” 
“Human..” You can see the worry in his eyes, feeling your heart melt. He squeezes your hand harder and you try to ignore the fact that he doesn’t even mean any of it, only an act meant for the demon you can tell is staring you both down. 
But you’d oddly like to believe it was real.
“He’s going to infiltrate your mind, read your deepest, darkest thoughts, invade your privacy...” He urges you, emphasizing gravely that this is not something to be taken lightly. 
“I’ll be okay, demon.” 
Jungkook sighs with evident worry. “If you feel uncomfortable for even a second, I’ll kill him.” He proclaims. “You don’t have to go through with this.” 
“I’ll be fine, Jungkook. We’re a team now, alright? I got you.” 
You’re unsure of what emotion flashes through Jungkook, but you can clearly see his expression soften. He purses his lip, and simply nods as he slowly lets your hand go, but not without leaning in close to your ear. “You need to convince him..” Jungkook advises quietly. “Convince him about us to get the address.” 
You nod back in affirmation, detangling your fingers and stepping towards the sleazy demon. 
Azazel flashes you a toothy smile you wish you couldn’t see, repulsed as you stand before him. You notice the women flanking him don’t necessarily pay attention to you, and have only been touching and dancing around Azazel the majority of the time. You wonder if they’re under some sort of trance, attributing their behaviour to the drugging methods Jungkook informed you of earlier. 
Though you also wouldn’t rule out the doings of Azazel knowing he’s the sin of Lust. 
“What do you want?” You question bleakly. 
“Your hand, darling.” He slides his tongue over his teeth. 
“Do more than just read her, and I’ll torture you in hell for eternity.” Jungkook scolds threateningly, jaw clenched and eyes smoldering. 
Azazel merely acknowledges Jungkook as you reach the eclectic demon. With a weirded out expression, you hesitantly present your hand to Azazel, who snatches you up as though he were a starving dog seeing meat for the first time. He immediately shoves the back of your hand against his nostrils, gaining a good, heady whiff of you. You try not to feel a sense of ickiness all over your body, suddenly feeling this certain shock that runs throughout all your veins. 
It feels uncomfortable at first, but suddenly transforms into this sharp pain flooding your bloodstream. You exclaim immediately, feeling as though knives were suddenly coursing through your arteries. You falter as the feeling crawls all over your skin, clutching your hand to your chest in a panic. 
“Human!” Jungkook worriedly approaches you, but stops once Azazel’s ominous red eyes warn him. 
You calm down for Jungkook’s sake, breathing through the aching intrusion. “I’m fine.. I’m fine, Jungkook.” 
You remember his words in an instant, enduring the pain as you focus on thinking about Jungkook. He needs to think you’re both together, right? What better way than to conjure up every appealing thought you’ve had of Jungkook? 
His lips, his body, his eyes, his rockstar hair, his sexy leather outfit that hugs him just right. His Adam's apple, his thick neck, his alluring voice, the attractive way he tongues his cheek. Not to mention the adorable way his eyes go round or his small, cute lips pucker into a pout. 
Your mind naturally drifts towards the thought of all those features, and how they ignite your core anytime you ponder them. His fingers? His tongue? His lips? What could they do in other places? Would he be fast or slow? Would he touch you right? Would he be rough or soft? 
You try to imagine how it would feel if he were to touch your pulsing clit, shuddering once you register that masculine roughness he has to them. You bite on your lip, center lighting up with wanton desire once you consider how his tongue would feel, and most of all, you wonder exactly what beast Jungkook hides in his pants. You practically scream all these things at yourself, prominently contemplating your attraction to Jungkook for Azazel. 
Though funny enough, you know deep down they were real thoughts you merely suppressed. 
Azazel continues to read your mind, your shut eyes too focused on honing in on your likeness for Jungkook until all the pain in your body suddenly stops. You exhale harshly, as though air was sucked out of your lungs once you return to Earth. You recall your place in reality and face Azazel, swallowing. 
“Hmm,” Azazel contemplates, suggestive, mirthy eyes gazing up at you. “She really does belong to you, boss.” 
You hear Jungkook let out a triumphant scoff, hands on his hips as he quirks a brow. 
“You’re all she seems to think about.” Azazel then eyes your figure up and down. “And they mainly seem to be very dirty.” 
That fact makes you physically choke, coughing out the spit that caught in your throat. You rip your hand out of Azazel’s hold, recovering from the hiccup. 
“T-the address, Azazel.” 
Azazel’s annoyed vision flits to the side as he leans back. He rolls his eyes, holding out his pointer and middle finger in the air. He suddenly flicks them to conjure up a piece of paper with a bright spark of flames. Its edges are burnt, though the integrity of the piece still holds up. 
You smile victoriously as you reach out for the paper, only for Azazel to suddenly retract it. 
“You owe me for this, boss.” 
Jungkook laughs dryly, suddenly feeling his presence beside you as he flattens his warm palm against the small of your back. “We’ll see about that in hell—what did you say? Second-rate lackey.” 
The term makes Azazel growl as a counter, finally nabbing the paper from him and nuzzling into Jungkook, proudly presenting it before him. 
“For you, my liege.” You bow as part of your skit, Jungkook clasping the paper. 
“Why thank you, my angel.” Jungkook responds in the same playful tone, bowing as well. 
He graciously snatches the paper from you and tucks it inside the pocket of his leather jacket you wear. He pats the pocket condescendingly before entangling his fingers with yours and tugging you flush against his side, saluting Azazel. 
“So long, Azazel. Hope you grow the balls one day to fight me in hell.” Jungkook snarks, cocking a proud brow. “We’ll see then who's more powerful. If you’re not too busy getting your balls taken care of here, that is.” 
Azazel literally spits at the ground you both walk on, Jungkook immediately clutching you close to him as he merrily laughs at his own remark. 
And honestly speaking, as obnoxious as Jungkook can be, you laugh, too. 
Hugging the paper with the address to your chest, Jungkook side-hugs you to him as the pair of you walk out together into the main area of the strip club. There’s a new stripper on stage now, and Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ fills the hooting club as you both make your triumphant exit. 
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The soft thrum of rock beats keep your eyes open, shifting in and out of sleep as you slump into your passenger seat. Jungkook sits at the wheel now, and despite only claiming he could drive, you admit he’s a pretty decent driver for someone who’s only learned through observation. 
You’re yet again falling asleep after the day’s tedious activities, cheek resting in your palm while you huddle into Jungkook’s warm leather jacket. It was oddly very comforting. 
“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Jungkook lightly hits your arm and you shoot up, grumbling with sleep-laden eyes. 
“What the fuck, Jungkook?” 
“Feel lucky I even called you beauty, you don’t look so hot right now.” 
You roll your eyes, not caring of your appearance after driving for God knows how long. You still run your fingers through your hair, however. “Fuck you.” 
You see in your peripheral Jungkook silently scoffing, chiding you with an expression of mimicry. You narrow your eyes into slits at him, huffing at how easily you both return to normal. You should’ve known whatever concern and care Jungkook was showing you was only for Azazel, there’s no way the daft idiot could even muster a single cell of decency. 
Jungkook suddenly toes at your shin, nearly kicking you awake once again. You turn around and face him with sheer annoyance. “Jungkook, what the fuck! Can’t you just fucking drive?!” 
“So you have dirty thoughts about me, huh?” Your throat cinches, your brain shuts down and you transform into the epitome of an error 404 not found code. You hold up a finger in protest as you buffer, lips struggling for a sentence. 
“I didn’t know I was always on your mind, angel.” Jungkook bounces his brows as he peers at you, but it seems like his expression completely depicts the opposite of what he says. He eyes as if he knows the inner workings of your brain, knows exactly what you think, what’s on your mind, and knows they’re not innocent like an angel. 
God, he’s so annoying. 
“Would you shut up? That was for Azazel. You wouldn’t have your precious address without me anyway, demon.” 
Jungkook scoffs, laughing at your rather cute act of denial. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, human.” Jungkook's hand once gripping the steering wheel then suddenly settles over your thigh, not squeezing or touching, but merely resting there as he refrains from doing anything compromising. 
His eyes then suddenly flit towards you.
“You seem to be quite the dirty little angel.” 
Your cheeks heat up, growing angry because.. fuck, did he actually have to be right? Why did it feel like he could see right through you? Like he could read you as though you were bearing all the pages of your book? You scrutinize him repulsively as you shove his hand off you, shuffling away from him further. 
“Whatever. You should be letting me sleep, asshole.” You counter in response. “And watch the fucking road.” 
Jungkook stifles a laugh in his throat as he returns his eyes to the road, his hand now resting over the console as he drives with one hand freely. You try not to flit down to his legs manspreading deliciously, or gaze at the veins that sprawl up his arm and his rough hand on the steering wheel. You even ignore the way he tongues his cheek as though he’s too amused. 
“Why did you keep calling me that?” 
Jungkook flickers towards you. “Huh?” 
“With Azazel, you kept calling me angel.” You grumble. “You only use that when you’re being an asshole.” 
Jungkook breathes a laugh through his nose, his vision focusing on the road as he handles the steering wheel. He swipes his lips with his tongue as he looks ahead, flexing his jaw. 
“I didn’t want him knowing your real name.” 
Your brows raise in light surprise, not expecting that concern to come from him even without putting on a show. 
“That’s rich coming from you.” You scoff. 
Jungkook cracks a smoldering smirk, hating that he was so obnoxiously attractive. “It’s rich that for an angel you have a lot of dirty thoughts.” 
You roll your eyes, shutting down the arousal that floods your core as you smack his bicep. Fuck Azazel for saying that aloud, and now fuck Jungkook for snickering about it to himself. You exhale tiredly as you tuck your hand underneath your cheek and force yourself to sleep, completely avoiding him. 
So what if you wanted to fucking jump his bones? It’s his fault for being so sexy. 
With a knowing smile and quirk of his brow, Jungkook leans over and turns the volume of the music down, continuing your journey under the dark sky with spangled stars. 
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Jungkook brings in the last of your luggage from the car into your motel room, setting down the heavy bags and suitcases in one-go. He appeared seriously fucking strong doing so, and suddenly the image of him hauling stuff like that was simply too hot to not watch. 
His shirt clings to his muscular body as he maneuvers your things around the room, filling up space the way it should. You laid on your tummy simply scrolling through your laptop, meant to be looking up the address of the club you’d received from Azazel. 
Instead, you watch Jungkook’s back muscles flex as he zips open his duffle bag, shuffling through his belongings. You genuinely wonder if it’s possible to be attracted to someone’s back. He’s just so incredibly broad and wide, his traps and shoulder blades adding to the breadth of his posterior. He seems strong enough to be able to manhandle you, but kind enough to be gentle about it. 
Suddenly you remember what your friends were all whispering about regarding Jungkook; the type of man that would let you do anything to him to gain your own pleasure. 
Fuck, would he ever let you ride his back? 
Jungkook stifles a laugh in his throat as his eyes shift to you, sexy smile on display with amused eyes. You become aware of your blatant ogling and hide behind the screen of your laptop, clearing your throat. 
“What’re you doing over there, angel?” 
You heat up once you realize he clearly saw you, though act as though absolutely nothing happened. “Nothing, I’m just researching the address we got.” 
You continue clicking through much of Google maps, only to find yourself coming up empty. That was the issue with the address you’d both earned from Azazel, it appeared like a normal address, though it didn’t show up on any maps or across the grand internet. 
“Have you found the exact address?” 
“Honestly, I’m having some trouble with it.” 
Jungkook furrows his eyebrows with a little confused noise, abandoning his things and joining you on the motel bed. He seats himself right next to you, and just as you begin explaining the conundrum, Jungkook leans in close and places a hand over your body. His fingers squish into the sheets next to you as he practically cages you on the bed, feeling a fluttering in your chest at his unusual proximity. The scent of his cologne mixed with the fabric softener he started to like set your nerves ablaze, never having expected Lucifer himself to smell so nice, be so suffocating. 
It was intoxicating, he was intoxicating. He’s simply leaning over you to closely peer at the screen, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart race in your chest, feel his presence permeate your back. 
“What’s troubling you?” 
You struggle with your sentences before you can find feasible words, attempting to not stare at his thick thigh through his ripped jeans right in your face. “I-yeah. Um, did Azazel give us the right address? I can’t seem to find the club.” 
Jungkook hums in understanding, cutely pursing his lips. “I see. Let me take a look.” 
To your surprise, Jungkook leans down directly over your head to type on your laptop, and you attempt to not squeal at how incredibly proximal he is now. He covers all of your upper body so easily, and you suddenly wonder what it would be like if he were on top of you. 
He’d probably completely dominate me. 
You hear Jungkook breathe a scoff above you, tentatively peering up to find that in fact, his chin could’ve been resting atop your head. You watch his gorgeous, thick fingers type over your laptop then, searching diligently as you silently grow warmer underneath him. 
“Hmm, I see what you mean.” Jungkook chimes as he drifts into thought, also coming up dry. “Azazel shouldn’t have lied to me, the princes of hell are incapable of doing so.” 
You tilt your head and peer up at him, chin resting in your hands as you swing your legs back and forth over the mattress. “Why so?” 
Jungkook smirks devilishly, eyes flitting down to you. “They know the hell they’re in for if they do.” 
You roll your eyes, how typical of Lucifer. Jungkook ticks his head, however, as he thinks, trying to piece together what to do now. He brings his pointer finger and thumb to his chin, contemplating. 
“Can I see the paper Azazel gave us?” 
You fish it out of Jungkook’s leather jacket that you were in fact still wearing, presenting it to him. You watch Jungkook stare at the paper in his hand, scrutinizing the living hell out of it. You watch the gears in his head shift until finally, Jungkook has an ah-hah moment. 
He brings the piece close to his pink lips and gently blows over the paper. You watch in surprise as it smolders in accordance with Jungkook’s breath, suddenly small text emerging in a searing heat underneath the original address. 
‘Only those with wings can truly see.’
Jungkook cracks a scoff as he finally understands, laughing to himself. “Azazel, you damn bastard.” 
“What does it mean?” You query curiously. 
“You can’t see it, but I can.” Jungkook explains. He shows you the paper and runs underneath the first part of the text, indicating it to you. “‘Only those with wings’ means celestial beings like angels and demons, they both have wings. Humans can’t see the address or location unless they’re with a celestial being.” 
“Ohh,” you nod your head in acknowledgement. “That makes so much more sense. Google maps just kept showing me this dead-end alleyway.” 
Jungkook clicks his tongue as he ruffles your hair. “Should’ve been using that big brain of yours instead of staring at me, angel.” 
You scoff underneath him, peering up through narrowed slits. “Shut up, I wasn’t staring at you.” 
“You were pretty clearly staring at me, sweetheart. Next time you want a piece of this,” he gestures towards his brawny body. “You can let me know.” 
You pretend-vomit as you shove him away from you, Jungkook chuckling as you prop yourself back up. “Get away from me, your egotistical head is too big.” 
“Nuh-uh” Jungkook tuts with a finger. “I may be egotistical, but I know what I saw. Just tell me you want me and it’ll solve all your problems, angel.” 
“And who said I want you? It’s not like you want me.” 
“Did I ever say I didn’t want you?” 
Your eyes fall open in surprise, Jungkook merely staring at you with his mirthy eyes. He even dares tilt his head as he intensifies his gaze, growing too flustered to consider what he just said. He’s clearly only playing with you. 
“Whatever,” you wave him off. You grab the physical map you’d purchased at a convenience store. “Just fucking circle where we need to go on this.” 
You’re presenting a map to Jungkook for actual work, but he then cunningly swipes it from your grasp. “Wait a minute, what map exactly?” 
You grievously complain as Jungkook holds the map too high for your height, cursing his long arms and how much larger he is in comparison to you. You practically climb his strong body and lap to retrieve the flimsy thing, only for Jungkook to retract it every time you think you’re close. 
“You have to try harder than that, angel.” You breathe out a fed-up chuckle as you reach with all your might, wildly struggling as he simply giggles at your attempts. You finally snatch the map out of his hand and let out a triumphant ‘ah-hah!’
But just as you celebrate, Jungkook unbalances you with his grasp and the weight of his body sends you toppling over, falling back against the bed. Jungkook falters directly over you, his hands either side of your head as you stare up at him in shock. 
Your hands are sprawled either side of your head, round eyes regarding him with sheer surprise. You notice the way Jungkook’s knee has settled right between your legs, causing you to fidget. You swallow watching the smirk on his face grow, all too amused by the compromising position. 
“Mmm,” Jungkook suddenly hums. “For an ‘innocent’ angel you seem very comfortable as a bottom, huh?” 
You suck in an immediate breath, hating how much this position lights your nerves on fire. An arousal shoots through your core as you attempt to appear normal, countering his comment with your own. 
“Funny, you don’t seem much like a top.” You were lying straight through your teeth, and you goddamn knew it. But nothing else really mattered as you flit between Jungkook’s lips and his eyes that gleam with mischief, another typical characteristic of Lucifer, you thought. 
“Ouu,” Jungkook hisses. “You really are a liar, aren’t you?” 
You stare him down in challenge as he slowly leans down towards you, examining your every feature. “Wonder who taught such a pure angel like you to sin so much.” His voice is so condescendingly low, you couldn’t help but squish your thighs together. 
“And I wonder who taught such an arrogant asshole like you manners. They seemed to have left out personal space.” 
Jungkook hisses yet again, head dipping for a dry laugh before refocusing his almost lust-ridden, fiery eyes back on you. “We need to do something about that attitude. Angels don't talk back.” 
“One, I’m a human, not an angel.” You snark wittily. “And two, what exactly will you do about my attitude, King of hell?” 
Jungkook wets his lip slowly, taking his time with it. He very obviously flits down over your body before he arrives at your face, lowering himself even more as his fingers slide into yours against the mattress. His proximity shoots waves of arousal through you, your once dry core now fluttering with anticipation. 
Goosebumps blossom over your skin as Jungkook comes exactly face to face with you, lips mere inches from yours as your body loses control. 
“You have no clue what I’ve got in mind,” he whispers, his deep voice travelling through you and right to your dampening pussy. “But once I’m done with you, you won’t be so pure anymore, angel.” 
Your breath hitches as Jungkook maintains his heated closeness, eyes flickering down to your lips as he seems seconds from connecting them, petals brushing yours as you taste his breath… only to finally collect yourself. Registering this as Jungkook’s crazy Lucifer attraction, you quickly shove him off you with a loud huff as you sit up on the sheets, muttering almost incoherently. 
“I’m going to take a shower.” You attempt to shake all the dirty thoughts about him out of your system, slipping into your slippers and making towards your luggage. 
Jungkook chuckles before tonguing his cheek while you search through your things, his thumb swiping across his bottom lip. He props a leg up on the bed, leaning his elbow over his knee as he regards you. 
“We should eat dinner after your shower, human.” He nonchalantly says, as though absolutely nothing happened between you just now. Funny, you should’ve known Jungkook was playing, it’s practically the only trait Lucifer has. “You get to choose, remember.” 
“I do. You’ll have to eat whatever I want, though. No complaints.” You gain the courage to look him in the eye, and honestly laugh shyly when you find him very obviously checking you out. Or just looking? You didn’t know, but sitting like that while purposefully peering at you seemed evident enough. 
“No complaints here.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, ticking his head towards the shower. “Go, I’ll be here if you need anything.” 
You nod in response, and try to divert yourself from considering the fact that you’ll be in a room over from Jungkook, showering and naked. 
You wonder what he looks like naked. 
Jitters crawl all over your body and you snap yourself out of it, rapidly nabbing your clothes and rushing towards the bathroom without a single thought. You stand in the doorframe and peek back into the room, only to see Jungkook bouncing his brows just to tease you with a little wave, and you roll your eyes as you slam the door shut. 
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Shutting the shower nozzle close, you let out a sigh as you finish. You wanted to smack your head against the shower wall repeatedly, horrendously until it produced an answer for why in God’s name Jungkook made you feel like this. 
Why did you like him on top of you like that? Why were his lips so goddamn tempting? Maybe it really was the Lucifer effect he has on you and practically anyone he comes into contact with, but you groan once you realize this feels stronger. 
If it were merely the effect of Jungkook, then you shouldn’t like it so much, should you? It feels as though it isn’t an arbitrary attraction anymore, but rather a voluntary desire that keeps manifesting itself everytime you’re near him. Maybe the effect is just stronger on humans, you didn’t know. But what you did know is that you wanted him, and it did not originate from whatever spell Jungkook always manages to cast upon you. 
You smack your forehead as you emerge from the shower, spotting your clothes for tonight’s outing and drying yourself with a towel nearby. You wrap it around your chest as you proceed to apply moisturiser and your usual skin care routine, plugging in a blow dryer for your hair before sorting through your clothes for your undergarments. 
Only to realize, they weren’t here. 
You immediately gasp as a hand covers your agape mouth. Your dumbass really didn’t think to bring your bra and panties when you were angrily snatching your clothes in front of Jungkook. You feel dread overcome you as you contemplate needing to venture out into the motel room for your clothes, stepping anxiously in your spot as nerves flood your system. 
You take a deep breath once you realize that they’re merely your clothes, and whether or not Jungkook lets you live this down, at least you didn’t go completely commando out to dinner with him. 
Mustering every speck of courage in the world, you crack the bathroom door open to take a small glimpse, expecting to see Jungkook maybe sprawled on his bed and watching TV, but only finding an empty mattress. 
“Jungkook?” You call quietly, hoping for a response. You don’t hear anything though, sparking your light concern. You meander out a little further and call his name again, but gain no answer. You presume he could be out of your room right now, using this as your golden opportunity. You scamper towards your bag with all your delicates in only a measly towel, clutching it loosely from falling out of place as you scrounge through your bag. 
You rapidly put together a matching set and instantly zip your bag shut, barging it back into your suitcase. You swivel around to make a risky break for it, only to run smack dab into someone’s rock hard chest. Suppressing the desire to cry, you recognize it anywhere, complaining as you rub your forehead from the contact. 
“What are you doing?” 
Your face heats up, carefully meeting Jungkook’s gaze as you see him fully clothed, while you’re naked and wet underneath a towel. The thought pries your embarrassed eyes away from him, clutching your garments to your chest in order to conceal them, but his sharp eyes can clearly discern what they are.
Damn his Lucifer abilities.
“I-I’m sorry. I just forgot something..” Your eyes flit everywhere but at Jungkook, who stands firmly in place without even the slightest bit of shame, towering over you. 
“You could’ve asked me to grab them for you.” Jungkook proclaims, his voice velvet-like and practically serenading you. 
“This isn’t something you can exactly grab.” You state. “It’s embarrassing.” 
“What’s so embarrassing about you being a woman?” Jungkook suddenly asks, still unable to meet his gaze, and you’re honestly glad Jungkook doesn’t demand it out of you either. His voice seems softer now however, almost understanding you. 
“Nothing, but it’s just…” You trail, not feeling exactly uncomfortable about him here, but feeling quite bare and open. All your intimate parts are covered, yes, but the mere idea that only a layer separating him from witnessing what lies underneath leaves you almost mortified. What if you’re not desirable at all to him? What would he think about your stretch marks? Your scars? All the flaws that you adorn? 
It leaves you clutching the towel even tighter, the very thought making you swallow a wad down your throat. Jungkook seems to notice your unease, and his expression falls from one of his usual amusement to seriousness. 
He very carefully, and hesitantly juts out his hand towards your hair. He considerately watches your reaction as his fingers meet a certain strand dangling in your eyesight, and he gently casts it behind your ear. His fingertips naturally fall to your chin, and you instinctively peer at him as he holds you ever so delicately. 
“You don’t have to be embarrassed with me, Y/N. I’m not expecting anything from you.” Jungkook clarifies, his tone uber soft. “Is that what you think of me?” 
“No.. I just,” you pause, searching for better wording. “Don’t know what you’ll think of me.” 
Jungkook furrows his brows, as though contemplating how that’s even something you could say.  He light-heartedly laughs as he looks to the ground, then peers back up at you. His eyes have softened into those round orbs of coffee, noticing that his eyes actually had a tendency to emit this natural glow, almost like a shimmer of stars. 
“You really think I’d be the type of guy that judges a woman’s body? Or her bra and panties?” 
You suck in a breath listening to his pretty lips say those words, gently nibbling on your lip as your tentative sight meets his. 
“If there’s one thing you should know about me, angel.” Jungkook begins, still cradling your chin. “You never have to be ashamed of yourself around me. I’m Lucifer, baby. All your sins, your secrets, your darkest thoughts.. I got you.” 
Jungkook steps closer to you, closing the space between your bodies as he releases heat that only warms you up, both inside and on the outside. He then closes the space between you two ever so slowly, lip brushing your ear as he whispers. 
“Even the dirty ones.” 
 His words ignite a lustful fire inside you, wondering a million heart-pumping possibilities with him so close to you, but choosing your gratitude over your horniness. You and Jungkook are merely a team, not a relationship waiting to happen. And so you crack a smile as you find yourself gazing into his eyes, wondering where this was coming from, and contemplating that maybe Jungkook... really isn’t half bad. 
That was, until he opened his mouth. 
“But if you’re like a furry or something, I’m gonna have to pass.” 
You scoff as you propel his chest away from you, shooting a repulsed expression his way. “Let’s just go to dinner, jackass.” 
Jungkook laughs as he watches you march away, flickering back to scold him, but only seeing his lips curving into this rather attractive bunny-like smile, wondering why the fuck Lucifer had to be blessed with such cute lips. 
And also wondering what it would feel like to kiss them. You didn’t know you’d find out later that night, or that Jungkook is in fact hotter than hell. 
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venusiangguk · 8 months ago
the art of wanting | jjk (m)
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>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc
>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, a lil bit of plot 
>>word count: 10.3k literally why cant i write anything short ever hhhh
>>warnings: cute baby!!!, jk being a good dad, he likes to garden :(, dom jk, sub oc, age gap, handjob, coming in pants, AYOOO OC GOT A FAT COOCHIE, lowkey body worship, fat coochie supremacy, oral (m/f), safe sex, sexual tension, praise, multiple orgasms, eye contact, jk likes to watch 🥴, asking for permission, jk’s lowkey controlling i guess but it’s soft and like not toxic lol, PLAYFUL use of the word ‘daddy’, no actual daddy kink 🙄, dirty talk
>>notes: idk what it is, but something about actual dads being called ‘daddy’ in a sexy way just does not sit right w me 😐 so i did not include the d word in any sexy context sry daddie luvers, maybe next time !! anyway! late vday one shot!! didn’t turn out as good as i wanted, but i still hope you enjoy! sorry for any mistakes; this is not beta’d lol ALSO ty to @moonb0yy​ for helping me with parts ilysm much bestie ur the best <3
>>summary: you find a baby in your store and in turn, a dilf finds you.
series masterlist, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3
Being a grocery store stocker at the ripe young age of 22 wasn’t exactly where you thought you would be after graduating from university. You thought you’d be in a big city, living it up. The stereotypical vision of a hot, independent, young girl making money, and experiencing success. Turns out you were wrong and that you maybe kinda sorta majored in something you have literally no interest in and now have a degree that you have zero desire to use. So alas, here you are, decked out in your khaki pants and light blue polo. Non-slip shoes truly tying the whole look together. 
 You also didn't think you would have a small, young, baby child gripping said khakis. You look down at the tiny human and then around the empty aisle. No one in sight. You are in the junk food lane of an overpriced, organic whole foods store. The health nuts that shop here don’t usually venture into ‘artificial’ ingredient territory. Baby seems to not be so picky. You glance down at her again. Her big doe eyes blink at you a single time.
 You gingerly shake your leg trying to get her off, kind of like you would to a chihuahua if it was jumping on you or humping your leg. Baby is quite resilient, hands small but very strong. She does have thumbs after all.
 “Can I help you?” You ask her with a quirked brow.
 She babbles for a second before her little chubby arms reach up. She makes grabby hands at you.
 You look at the box of teddy bear cookies in your hand, then back at the child. You slowly extend the box to her. 
 “Nuuu- uw!” She says, swatting the box from your hand to the floor. 
 Her grabby hands are insistent, and now she’s got a little scowl on her face. Might be close to tears? You don’t know, you don’t speak toddler.
 “Listen,” You say, appeasing her and picking her up. “That was not nice, and also, you shouldn’t be talking to strangers. Where’s your mommy, hmm?”
 She’s hoisted on your hip as you bounce her. Her fat little cheeks jiggle. You didn’t usually like kids, but this one was okay you supposed. She’s cute at the very least. She’s wearing the tiniest little skort with a pink shirt that has a taco on it. ‘Taco-bout cute!’ it says. She’s even got baby doc’s on, and you’re a little envious if you’re being honest. Those were expensive. Her pigtails stick straight out the sides of her head, a little lopsided, but endearing. You’re sure her mom did her best. 
 “Daaaaa,” She spouts.
 “Yeah?” You ask. You bounce her a little harder and the sweetest little giggle gurgles from her mouth, her eyes almost disappearing from how big she’s smiling. You spy some little teeth coming in. “You’re a little rude, but I think that’s because you’re spoiled because you’re so cute, huh?” You poke her belly.
 You switch to swaying her, and she coos. Rests her little head on your shoulder, one of her hands coming up to grip at your name tag. 
 “Hey now, don’t fall asleep. I need you to be able to identify your human. I can’t just hand you off to someone random.” You whisper, starting to walk to the customer service area so they can make an announcement over the intercom system.
 As you’re making your way to the front of the store, you see a man turning the corner. A very sexy man. He’s wearing sweats, but somehow still looks clean and put together. He’s got big sneakers on his feet, could pass as dad sneakers if you didn’t know otherwise. Those two tone shoes, your brand savvy mind knows, are Balenciagas. He’s tall and so so fine, but really really frantic. He looks frazzled, and like he’s lost something very important. You look at the baby. She probably counts as something important to most people.
 The man’s eyes fall on you, and then travel to the toddler in your arms. A look of relief falls over his features. He slumps and hangs his head exhaling, before he starts jogging towards you with a dazzling white smile on his face. He’s got dimples.
 And this just won’t do. Nope. You’ve got two hard limits. One of them being anal.
 The other being hot men that are also dads. 
 It’s weird you know. Your friends remind you of it whenever you swoon at seeing daddy-baby duos in public. You don’t even know what it is about it, but it just does something to your womb. Pussy? Same thing essentially. 
 He sighs looking at you like you have the cure to cancer in your arms as he comes face to face with you. 
 “That’s mine.” He says gesturing to the baby. 
 You hum. “Finder’s keeper’s.”
 His face falls and he looks like he’s about to panic again. You laugh.
 “Just kidding. But you do have to prove it. Not just gonna hand a baby to a stranger. I was just on my way to the front.”
 “No! Of course, um. Nari…” He coos, getting closer. The baby doesn’t acknowledge him much, just smiles, like she’s trying to ignore him. She turns closer to your chest and babbles before letting out a happy shriek. The man smiles like he’s in awe of the tiny little human in your arms. 
 “Slight recognition. A good sign. Got any pictures?” You ask, shifting her to your other hip.
 He nods and pulls out his phone. “She’s 18 months, she still only babbles but the doctor said she’s on the right track to talking,” He explains, trying to prove he knows all the baby facts that a dad should while swiping through his camera roll. It’s full of pictures of the baby girl. You see a selfie of him and the baby, she’s got oversized glasses on her face and the man is smiling so wide, mid-laugh. Maybe you’re dramatic but your heart literally shatters in your chest. “Absolutely hates peas, but loves butternut squash?” You glance at the hand basket hanging from his bent arm. There is indeed an assortment of baby mush in jars. “I don’t know, she’s kind of weird. Oh! Her name is Jeon Nari. Right Nari?” He sing-songs, trying to get her attention. 
 She reaches a plump little hand out to him, and he brings his face closer so she can reach better. She taps his cheek before she moves and grabs at his nose. She pulls her hand back with a squeal.
 He gasps. “Nari! Did you take my nose?” He makes an over exaggerated shocked expression. 
 She turns to you and offers you her clenched fist.
 You pull back, “I don’t want it.”
 She giggles, turning back to her dad. 
 “Can I have it back Miss. Nari? Please?”
 Miss. Nari. You’re going to pass away.
 Nari looks like she thinks about it before she all but flings herself from your grip to his arms. They are both laughing, and you feel like you’re third wheeling when you see her place her open mouth on his cheek, giving a kiss in the gross, adorable way that babies do. Not wanting to interrupt, you go back to stocking junk food.
 “Thank you.” He says softly. 
 You turn to look at him, and he’s got the baby on his hip, hand under her little diapered butt. She’s holding his thumb in her hand, resting on his chest. His strong dad chest.
 “No problem. Maybe don’t lose your baby again though.” Or maybe do, so I can find her and find you by association.
 He blushes. “I swear I’m a good dad. It’s just- The baby food is on the very bottom shelf, so I had to put her down to crouch and get it. And I swear. She can’t talk yet, but missy can toddle. Very fast.”
 You look at her for a moment and then just laugh. “She seems like the type to get what she wants, and if she wants to run through the grocery store?” You shrug. “Who are you to stop her? Daddy or not.”
 You swear you don’t mean it in a sexy way. But his blush moving farther down his neck is satisfying.
 He clears his throat. “Uh- Yeah. My fault. She’s a little spoiled.” He rubs his hand over the nape of his neck, bashful. Nari makes a noise of complaint. He gives her his hand back. She kicks gleefully in his hold.
 “Anyway,” You say, “You’re welcome.”
 He offers you a small smile before turning to his daughter. “Say ‘thank you’ baby.” 
 She glances as you and her face lights up. “Ba buuuuu!” 
 You coo. “You are very welcome sweet girl.” You say getting to her level. “Don’t give Daddy too hard of a time, okay?”
 To yours and her dad’s surprise, she leans forward in his hold and places her little hands on your face, leaning into breathe on you with an open mouth in her baby kiss way. Her dad makes a surprised noise.
 “Oop, sorry. She really likes you.” He chuckles leaning away. 
 You stare at him a little wide eyed, baby slobber on your forehead.
 He laughs harder and reaches his arm out. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. You both still, seeming to realize you’re having skin to skin contact at the same time. He drops his hand in a jerky manner.
 You both stare at each other, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker over your body, like he’s trying to refrain but curiosity or perhaps desire gets the best of him. You don’t know, but you hope it’s because he wants. 
 He looks like he’s gonna say something more, but Nari has other plans. Dinner plans if the way she’s wiggling in his arms towards the basket while gurgling unhappily means anything.
 “Ah, looks like it’s dinner time. Thanks again…” He looks at you expectantly. 
 “___.” You say, pointing to your name tag.
 He smiles and his eyes crinkle. “I’m Jeongguk.” He jumbles Nari a little, she shakes her head and grumbles before burying her face in his neck. He rolls his eyes. “You know her. She’s appreciative, just hungry.”
 “I understand. Have a good night Jeongguk.”
 “See you later, ___.”
 You watch him go, eyes traveling down to his toned back down to his cute butt. He catches you staring when he turns back and gives you a small wave and a smile. You play it cool. Gotta play it cool with cool dads.
 Another day, another can on a shelf. 
 Also, another baby grabbing your khakis.
 Well, not another baby. It’s the same baby. Little Nari. 
 “Why, hello there,” You coo, picking her up. “Where’s daddy? Or mommy?” You say puzzled. “Do you have one of those? Please say no.”
 She stares at you dumbly. She has a single sprout with a bow atop her head today. 
 You look around for her dad and see him peeking around the corner. Like he sent Nari to you and is waiting for her to do something. He sees you looking at him and sighs before he starts walking towards you. He’s in baggy jeans with tears in the thighs, along with an oversized crew neck today. You gulp. Dilf aisle 2.
 “She messed up.” He says on arrival.
 “Huh? No, she could never do anything wrong,” You say shielding her defensively. “Could you, Nari?”
 She rubs her full fist on her belly. “Na na.”
 You both look at her endeared albeit confused before Jeongguk speaks up.
 “You’re right.” He amends. “But she was supposed to give you your gift.” He gestures to one of her full hands.
 She’s fisting a paci in one and a small succulent in the other.
 You eye them before slowly looking at him. “Which one is for me?”
 He gives you a closed lip smile, shoulders shaking as he tries not to laugh.
 Although seeing Jeongguk smile and laugh and turn the prettiest shade of red because of you is satisfying, you give him a break and turn to Nari. “Can I have that?” You ask gently.
 She looks at you, and then at the succulent before promptly turning it upside down.
 “Nari!” Jeongguk gasps. He reaches out and takes it from her before more than just a little dirt falls to the ground.
 You laugh, and Nari squeals at you. She looks at Jeongguk almost as if asking if she did something right. Once again, he’s trying to hold in laughter.
 “Da!” She says pointing at you.
 “Here, let’s switch,” He says, taking the baby human from you and in exchange offering you a baby plant.
 “What’s this for?” You ask. You can’t keep plants alive for shit, but it’s cute and thoughtful.
 “For finding this one last time.” He says rubbing his nose on hers. She blows a raspberry. He makes a disgusted yet adored face. Dads and their babies man.
 “Thanks, sorry in advance if I kill it.”
 “Succulents are pretty low maintenance. Just moderate sunlight and watering like once a week.” He’s got his hip cocked, with Nari settled in the curve of it and you consciously have to avert your eyes from how trim and lithe it looks. 
 “You’d be surprised at how not self-sufficient I am.”
 He hums. 
 “So, she’s two?” You ask, placing the plant on a shelf so you can get back to stocking.
 “She’s 18 months.” He replies. 
 “So basically 2.”
 He makes a contemplative face. “Eh… 18 months.”
 You give him a look. “You’re one of those dads?”
 He’s smiling and makes an affrontive noise. “Hey, she’s only a baby once. I’m not gonna rush her!”
 “Baaa!” Nari agrees.
 “Yeah, tell her baby!” He encourages.
 He’s so sweet and hot and such a good dad. And he has to be successful and well off, you just know it. Groceries here were not cheap. You can feel it in the way your lower heartbeat goes crazy when you see him. You’re basically drooling right in front of him. But you have to keep it cool.
 “And how old is Daddy?”
 Not your coolest. You’ll admit that.
 You don’t even have a daddy kink. You just like his reactions. Mostly.
 Jeongguk cackles, head falling back and Nari looks at him with his copy pasted doe-eyes before she does the same. Her flexible little baby bones allow her to almost bend in half. Jeongguk cradles a big hand under her head and helps her back up, still laughing to himself softly. He adjusts her shirt so her round tummy isn’t exposed. She’s a lady, after all. She’s gotta be decent.
 “I’m 29,” He says once his laughter has subsided some. “And you?” He asks.
 “You wanna know how old I am?”
 He nods on a hum. “I’m curious.”
 “And why would you be curious about my age, hmm?” You tease.
 Jeongguk flushes and rolls his eyes playfully. Giving you a look that says, You know why. 
 You both know why. 
 “Humor me.” He bargains.
 “I’m 22.” You tell him simply.
 “Oh thank god.” He groans under his breath. Still a bit of a gap, he thinks. He still feels a little creepy but at least you're not in your teens still. And also it’s not like this… tension is going to amount to anything more than exactly that, because he will not actively pursue someone who is 7 years younger than him. Even if you are hot and keep calling him the forbidden d word.
 Nari looks at him concerned. “Daaaa?” She offers him her paci. He raises his hand to decline.
 “I’m okay thank you, that’s yours.” He pops it in her mouth and she immediately slumps against him, rubbing her face in his shirt. Must be sleepy. He turns back to you. “Thanks for moving the baby food by the way.”
 You think back to a week or so ago when you were restocking the baby aisle. Maybe you did reorganize a whole entire shelf for a random dilf you talked to once. Not your strongest moment but you justified it by reminding yourself that it genuinely didn’t make sense that the baby food was on the bottom shelf when something less imperative to a baby’s health could be. Like the $67 baby wipe warmer, or the equally pricy turtle bath thermometer. You would like to believe that Jeongguk was perfectly capable of figuring out if the water was right for baby with his hand and common sense.
 You turn a little red, embarrassed. You sniff. “You don’t know that was me.”
 “Ah, well I just have a feeling.” He drones while smiling softly and resting his cheek on the top of Nari’s head, looking at you. That’s when he seems to realize his baby is nodding off. “Hey missy.” He jostles her a little and she looks up blearily, confused and dazed, just having been on the cusp of a dreamland. “Don’t fall asleep, Mommy will be mad if I drop you off fresh from a nap because you,” He boops her nose and she swats at his hand with an unhappy grunt. She is absolutely rotten. “will keep her up all night, and I will have to hear all about it in angry texts.”
 You should mind your business, but you’re nosy and this is actually important information. 
“Mommy?” You pretend to focus on the cans you’re stocking, trying to go for causal and nonchalant.
 He takes a deep breath and the sighs. “Yup. We alternate weeks. Hers starts today. I’m here just restocking baby’s stuff. I like to send her off with extra so mom doesn’t have to worry.”
 Valuable, important information indeed.
 “That’s really nice of you.” You say genuinely.
 He nods, thoughtfully. “The least I could do. It’s already hard enough on this one, jumping around so much when she’s so little.” You can hear a small trace of sadness and guilt in his voice.
 “Hey,” you start, “that set up is a lot better than being in a house with parents that don’t get along. I think you’re a good dad.” You finish feeling a little silly. Like your opinion mattered. You’re 22 trying to console a sexy 29-year-old father.
 He regards you quietly for a moment before he breaks out into a smile. “Wanna know something funny I do whenever I send her off?”
 You nod, already chuckling a little.
 He points to her belly. Nari looks down confused. “I always give her to her Mom in clothes like this.” 
 She’s wearing a teal shirt that says ‘Daddy’s Girl ♡’ in big pink letters. You poke her tummy, and she gives the cutest most infectious baby giggles before lifting her shirt to show you her tummy. You squeeze it a little before she squirms and pulls her shirt back down clutching at her dad and giving him a slobbery, giggly, baby kiss.
 You full on laugh, giving him a round of applause. Funny and petty. “That’s so good.” You pause debating on whether or not to ask what you’re thinking. You do anyway. “Bad break up?”
 “Divorce actually.” He muses, adjusting Nari. “I mean we’re cordial for baby, but I wouldn’t say we are friends.” He thinks for a minute, “Although this is petty,” He gestures to her shirt again, “I mostly just do it because her mom gets annoyed and it’s funny and it makes it so I cry less when I drop her off. It’s not malicious.” He laughs a little to himself.
 Such. A. Good. Dad. Your heart is weeping. Something else is also wet. But it’s not your fault. It’s his. Before you can reply he’s speaking up again.
 “But on that note. I do have to actually shop and get her going. Thanks again for finding her that one day, don’t forget to water that.” He says nodding to the little plant on the shelf.
 “Guess you’ll have to remember to remind me.” You say, smiling slyly.
 “Guess so,” He says with a soft grin. “See you around. Say ‘bye bye’ Nari.”
 “Ba ba!” She says clenching her small hand in a wave of some sort.
 They turn to continue their shopping, and you can’t resist it when you say, “Don’t cry too much Daddy!” 
 Jeongguk’s steps falter before you see his shoulders shake with laughter.
 Without turning around, he says, “You gotta stop calling me that!” You can hear the smile in his voice. 
 He turns the corner, and you go back to stocking, reminding yourself to not forget your baby succulent at the end of your shift.
 You’re not made to work the register often. But when you do? It’s always as awful as the last. Having to deal with people and their coupons, or their questions, or their card declining really just isn’t how you want to spend an 8 hour shift. And you always contemplate quitting. Every single time. 
 Except this time.
 Jeongguk places his items on the belt, and you can’t help but stare.
 He’s got 3 red bull’s, 1 step ladder, some mangoes, and a bottle of plum wine. It’s an interesting assortment, and you have to ask, “Whatcha doin?” as you ring the items up.
 “Hi,” He says with that heart stopping, jaw dropping smile of his. “I’m decorating the second bedroom in my house. Bout time Nari moves out.” 
 You chuckle and nod to yourself. “No baby this week?”
 He shakes his head. “Hence the bottle of wine.”
 “Nice,” you say as you close off your lane. The man behind Jeongguk scowls at you, but you simply smile and wave goodbye, sending him a couple lanes over. You’ve decided it’s time for your break. “Does it have a theme?”
 Jeongguk looks between you and your closed lane as he pockets his card. It’s one of those sleek cards that are thick and heavy. The kind that just feel rich. Like when you see someone use it you just know they are doing well in life. He’s super casual today, workout shorts and a long sleeve shirt on his body. You wish you could see his legs better. He’s worn pants every other time that you’ve seen him. 
 Leaning against your lane he nods. “Yeah, kind of. I like plants and like gardening or whatever. I work a lot and it’s therapeutic and Nari likes playing in the dirt.” He waves his hand dismissively, “Anyway! Little one has to at least like flowers by default. So, I think I want a forest theme? I want to add mushrooms somehow because I found the cutest little mushroom stool at a secondhand store. Also, maybe some faeries.” He nods to himself. “I’ve already got the new furniture and everything. It’s a circular bed that kind of looks like a tree trunk, well not kind of- it actually looks like a tree and then these lamps that hang and look like those droopy flowers that faeries wear as hats? You know, the bell looking ones? Anyway, I also- ”
 You’re smiling really wide when he looks at you. He turns a little red. “Sorry,” he says. “This is probably the last thing you want to hear about at work.”
 You shake your head quickly. “No, no. I was just thinking that of course she’s gotta like plants. Her name does mean ‘lily’.”
 Jeongguk winces, pastes a faux look of guilt on his face. “Ah- That was a little selfish on my part.” He starts to roll up his sleeve. “My birth flower is a lily. I got this for her.” 
 When Jeongguk’s sleeve is properly rolled up, not only do you see a beautifully done tattoo of a lily flower, but you also see a whole entire sleeve covering his fair skin. Your eyes rake up and down his forearm and you have a horrible feeling that the sleeve continues all the way up his arm. He’s even got knuckle tattoos; you have no idea how you didn’t notice before. You blame Nari. 
 You swallow audibly. “That’s so hot.” It comes out sounding like a wheeze.
 “Huh?” Jeongguk says with a surprised laugh.
 You panic. “I said, that’s so… thought. Thoughtful. I think your tattoo is so thoughtful.”
 He laughs for a second longer before humming. “Thank you. But I’ll let you enjoy your break. I have to go get paint and wallpaper still, then I have to get straight to work. I procrastinated so I only have the weekend to get it done before she comes back.”
 You’re biting your lip in thought when he starts to walk away. Something that could be very embarrassing on the tip of your tongue. Are you sure you’re ready for potential rejection dished out by the incredibly hot dilf? What if he stops coming to the store and you can’t even ogle him anymore? Or play with his cute baby? You take a deep breath.
 “Wait! Jeongguk!”
 He stops and looks at you over his shoulder, throwing you a questioning gaze.
 “Do you- want help?”
 The look on his face would be comical and you would laugh at him if you could get a proper breath in around the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your chest cavity. He’s turned himself all the way around to look at you properly and he quite literally is just standing there. In the middle of the exit walkway.
 “You wanna help me decorate my daughter’s room?” He confirms.
 You nod. “Yes. I do. I get off in a couple hours.”
 Jeongguk feels his hands get a little sweaty. Maybe he’s kinda old, and maybe it’s been a while since he’s been in the game, but he’s almost positive that the… pull that’s between you both that’s been nagging at him isn’t innocent, and that if it manifested in his empty house where he is alone with you… it could potentially lead to his complete and utter demise. A little stilted flirting and smothering tension in the dry goods aisle was fine and good every couple weeks or so… but he meant it when he placed those imaginary boundaries between you two. The ones you don’t know about. The ones he put in place to ensure he won’t pursue someone so much younger. That means there’s only one answer to your question.
 “Yeah. I would love your help.”
 The answer being that he’s just going to practice really great self-control. He’s going to be an adult. He’s a dad! He’s like a pro at keeping his cool and being responsible! There’s no way he would break the rules he’s set for himself.
 Everything will be fine.
 Everything was not fine.
 You’re in his house and you’re not in your uniform. You’re in the tiniest pair of black soffe shorts he has ever seen, along with a fitted white v neck that lets the zipper of your sports bra peek out. The sports bra that is working very, very hard. Your tits did not look that big under the work polo, nor did your waist look so small. You reach on your tippy toes to mark off a higher area of the wall with blue masking tape. Your shirt lifts up and a twinkle catches his eye. There’s a jeweled heart dangling from your belly button. How cute. And how fucking awful for his sanity.
 Now Jeongguk’s not stupid. He really isn’t. He was on the Dean’s List in university, has his own company now. He’s smart and he has critical thinking skills. Yet somehow, he didn’t think about how you wouldn’t be showing up in your polo and khakis. Of course, you wouldn’t that would be stupid. Just like Jeongguk apparently. 
 “I think a faerie should go here.” You say pointing up to the marked spot. You smile at him expectantly. He smiles back, although it looks more like a grimace.
 “Don’t forget there’s going to be a tree playhouse in that corner.” He reminds.
 You hum. “Oh, maybe we- or you should put some of the vines you got on the wall? Kind of like ivy?” You bend over to pick up one of the long leaf garlands.
 Jeongguk’s face lights up, temporarily refocused by your idea. He could not be blamed if his eyes wandered when you bent down. He simply could not, any man would have succumbed to such a sight. 
 “That’s a such a good idea, here.” He says reaching for the leaves. “I’ll start tacking them up.”
 You shake your head. “I can do it. Where’s the step stool?”
 And that’s how you find yourself a few feet above him. Rich, successful people and their high ceilings. Jeongguk’s got his hands extended up and out, hovering over your hips, acting as a safety for you just in case you fall. His eyes are obnoxiously respectful, averted and looking away as if the sage green walls are a better sight than your ass in his face. His extended hands give you an idea though.
 What if you just… fall?
 You look at the distance between you and the floor once before committing and kamikazeing off the ladder. You’d like to think that you fall gracefully into his waiting arms. The grunt he lets out, and how hard his back hits the wall behind you tells you otherwise. Good thing the paint is dry.
 “Oof.” He breathes out, hands tight on your waist. His head falls back, and his eyes squeeze shut as he tries to catch his breath. 
 He braced your fall so you’re okay, just content in his arms as he recovers from getting the wind knocked out of him. Your hands are resting on his chest. His body is warm, and he smells good. 
 “Oh my god, are you okay?” He says once he can breathe properly. “You’re not hurt, are you?” His eyes look overly concerned, probably acting as he would if Nari fell. Dad instincts taking over as he lifts your arms to inspect them, bending them to make sure they still work. He looks like he’s about to take a look at your legs, but you stop him.
 “I’m fine, I’m fine!” You giggle. You place your hands on his cheeks and make him look at you. He’s got a surprised look on his face and you can feel how his cheeks heat up under your touch. Seems kind of on edge with you touching him. “Are you okay?” You ask quietly, a smile still lingering. Your hand runs from his cheek to his jaw, down to his neck. Your thumb just grazes his Adam's apple when he swallows and licks his lips. “You’re the one that caught me.” You tilt your head while you look up at him.
 “I…” He starts.
 But he doesn't finish because all he can focus on is the hand that was on his neck, slowly dragging down his shoulder, down his arm, then back up to rest on his bicep. It’s a simple, gentle touch, but the intentions behind your movements are salacious. He knows because the desire in the air has skyrocketed, he’s sure he could touch it if he could even bring himself to lift a hand. 
 “I’m good- I’m okay.” He whispers, frigid in your hold, like he’s scared to move. Like if he does what he should want, but doesn’t, you’ll vanish like one of the faeries on the wall. 
 “Are you sure?” Your tone matches his, and you look at him with wide puppy eyes, brows etched with exaggerated worry. “I know you’re like- really strong,” The hand you have resting on his upper arm squeezes for emphasis. “But maybe I should check? Just to make sure?”
 And fuck, he knows what you’re doing. He sees it written all over your face. The faux concern. The fake way you’re fretting over him. He feels it in the way your body inches closer to him, the heat radiating off of you just on the pleasant side of too hot. Your acrylics scratch at the nape of his neck and he can’t stop the chills that run down his arms.
 “You don’t have to do that I-”
 You’re on your toes, trying to reach his ear. He’s still too tall so you settle on whispering into his neck, “I want to.”
 Jeongguk’s eyes close so tight he starts to see those little white spots burst behind his lids. The whine that escapes from the back of his throat sounds distressed and pained, like he’s fighting with himself. 
 “__…” He says quietly. Just shy of pleading. Or maybe he’s warning. Warning you that you’re about to cross a line neither of you can go back from. It makes you smile.
 “Please,” You beg back. You press your body fully to his, boobs flush against his torso, hips angled against his. “Please tell me I can.” The hand that was at his nape slowly trails down to his torso, down his stomach. His abs tense underneath his long sleeve shirt, and he’s got his head turned away from you, like he’s battling with his cock and his morals.
 You press a soft kiss to his neck, and he shudders, the hands on your hips tighten like he doesn’t know if he wants to push you away or pull you closer. You place a hand on his jaw, then guide him to look at you. He comes easy enough and looks down his nose at you, eyes hooded, and brows furrowed.
 “It’s okay to want this,” You murmur. “It’s okay to want me.”
 His eyes shut, and he lets out a sigh. You feel him just barely press into your palm. “You’re just- I’m so much older than you… I don’t want to take advantage of you.” 
 You laugh a little. “You’re not, I want this. I’ve wanted this.” You press your lips to his neck again and pull a little bit of skin between your teeth before smiling into him. “I’ve thought about it so much… I’m a big girl, I know what I want. Plus, it’s just a little bit of fun.” Your fingertips on his lower belly play with the top of his shorts. “So, can I have it?”
 And Jeongguk can’t say no, not when you sound like that. Not when his cock is already hard and straining against his briefs. Not when your touch makes him crazy, not when it’s the first one he’s felt other than his own in months. 
So, he gives in. He nods and just like that, your hand slips into his shorts over his briefs and it’s good. So mind-numbingly good. The moan that falls from his lips as soon as your palm brushes over the head of his cock over the fabric is lewd and loud and so relieved. His head falls back against the wall, and his eyes flutter shut while you pump him over his Calvin’s, mouth parted slightly. His breaths go up in pitch at the tail end of his sighs, the softest moans filling the air.
 You rub your thighs together as you watch him succumb to pleasure, bottom lip pulled between your teeth. 
 “You sound even hotter than I thought you would.” You say quietly. Your hand travels farther down between his legs to fondle his balls. He gasps softly and spreads his legs wider for you, angling his hips so you can touch him better. You hum and move back up to stroke him. 
 “Feel good?” You ask.
 He laughs lightly and nods. “Yeah… so good.” He swallows. “‘S been awhile.” 
 You grin to yourself and look down. You can’t see much, really just touching in a way you think could be pleasing to him. It seems to be working a little bit at least, because in your palm, Jeongguk is so hard. His cock is thick, and long. It’s pulsing, twitching sometimes when you touch him just right. 
 Almost as if he can read your mind, he settles his big, tattooed hand over your small one, urging you to grip just a touch tighter, speed up just a little more.
 “Like that,” He moans.
 It’s not been long at all, but you can tell he’s close. The way he gets impossibly harder in your palm, and the damp patch that you feel every time your brush over the tip, are complete giveaways. He inhales deep breaths through his teeth, chest heaving before he sighs out shaky moans and groans. 
 “How long’s it been?” You’re nosy as usual. Your hand speeds up, pressing a little rougher into him.
 “Since the divorce so… 8? 9 months? Wait I-” He pauses, breaths coming out in accelerated little puffs. The hand he has over yours squeezes tightly, trying to halt your movements. His cock jumps in his underwear. “Slow- I’ll cum.” He chuckles softly, a little embarrassed.
 Your pussy throbs, and you know there’s a wet patch in your panties. You speed your hand up against his hold. He whines, squirming in your hand just a little. “Yeah?” you breathe. “You gonna cum for me, Jeongguk?”
 Jeongguk’s breathing is coming out in shattered exhales and when you bite at his neck he gasps. He wonders if you’re being playful like you’ve always been, or if you’re just as worked up as him, biting to release the tension boiling just under your skin.
 “Please,” He says, so wrecked. He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. Does he want you to stop before he soaks his pants like a horny teen? Or does he want you to keep going, so he can finally finish in a hand that’s not his own?
 Jeongguk doesn’t feel like he has a choice as his orgasm rushes him. His mind is far away, and all reason is out the door, cumming the only thing at the forefront of his mind. He presses your palm into his cock hard and ruts up into it, his hips stuttering and thrusts erratic as he spills into his briefs, hot and wet against your hand.
 He doesn’t warn you at all, cums quietly in your palm. Body so tense, and face so obscene he looks like he’s in pain, like he came so hard that it hurt. You know your pussy aches.
 Once Jeongguk catches his breath, you're whipped around and pressed into the wall, taking his place. His lips meet yours instantly and before you can even kiss back, he’s already moving all over your body. Tiny kiss marks glistening here, there, everywhere. Your collarbones are decorated, as well as your cleavage. He toys with the zipper of your sports bra, looks like he’s thinking about pulling but ends up moving past it. One track mind, taking over.
 He settles on his knees, big hands roaming over your shirt before slipping underneath with a quick glance at you. He grips a little here, a little there. It’s like he’s admiring the curve at your waist, the dips of your hip bones. Every inch he can get his hands on.
 He pushes your shirt up to under your tits, and begins placing his soft, wet kisses all over again. His hands keep moving too, making goosebumps form all over your tummy. You feel him smile into your skin once he notices. He dips his tongue into your belly button making you giggle out a gasp. He bites at the dangling charm pulling just a little bit, before letting go and giggling with you. 
 “I love this… ‘s cute.” He says.
 You mumble a tiny thanks, as he nips at the softest part of your lower belly, right above the elastic of your shorts.
 He rests his chin where he bit just a moment before, looking up at you, pretty doe eyes sparkling. “Can I?” He asks.
 You wiggle a little under his gaze but nod, nonetheless.
 When your shorts and underwear hit the floor Jeongguk lets out the littlest gasp. You feel his fingers come up and settle on your hips caressing softly again, while his eyes are trained on your cunt. He licks his lips absently.
 “It’s so cute…” He says. He sounds a little awestruck as he brings his fingers down to stroke over the smooth, plump lips of your pussy. He pinches them between his thumb and index finger, and a little bit of your slick oozes out, leaving you shiny and glossy. 
 Typically, you wouldn't compare your cunt to something from the ocean, but it really was like a little clam. Your pussy lips the shell, and your clit a small little pink pearl tucked perfectly inside. 
 He sighs as he leans in and presses a gentle kiss just above your slit. Your breath stutters as you breathe in, looking down at him. He keeps kissing gently, slowly but surely moving where you want him most, but you're impatient, already trembling from how bad you want his mouth. 
 Your hips buck when you feel his mouth on your lips over your clit. All he needs to do is slip his tongue right there…
 “Please,” You whine, so so quietly. 
 But he hears you. And he groans, from deep within his chest, and you can see him bring a hand down to press at his cock. He sounds pained, overwhelmed as he rests his forehead on your belly. “Fuck don’t beg. I’ll give you whatever you want just-” He pecks your mound quickly, one more time. “Don’t beg.” 
 He suspires and finally fulfills your request. His tongue disappears between your plush little folds, the tip of it licking over your clit. You gasp at the first feel of his tongue on you, mouth falling open while you watch him. He looks up at you, eyes hazy and full of desire, shining with such obvious lust and adoration. 
 The way he looks at you, like you’re something more than sexual tension finally coming to a head, makes you dizzy. You squirm looking away for a moment. His eyes are too tender for the filthy atmosphere around you, too tender for the reality of your situation.
 When you look down at him again, you brush some hair out of his eyes, hand settling in the long strands. His eyes flutter shut, and he kind of pushes into your hold before he blinks up at you, a sultry look on his face, eyes hooded and dark. You see him smile softly, a soft laugh puffing against you before he nips at your mons lightly. Then his tongue is lazily slipping between your slit giving long, slow, filthy licks to your clit. He’s already got the thick, hot feeling of arousal curling in your tummy.
 Your free hand comes down and you slip your fingers between your folds, spreading yourself open with your index and ring finger, while pulling your hood back with the middle one, revealing your clit to him. Showing him exactly where you want him.
 Again, he looks at your pussy like it's the prettiest, most lush thing he’s ever seen. He brings his hand up and rubs over your nub with a single finger, looking up once more to see how your eyelashes kiss your cheeks as your eyes flutter closed and your brows pinch. 
 “It’s so tiny…” he presses a little harder, rubs a little faster. “I’ve heard that the smaller it is, the more sensitive?” He phrases it like a question. “Is that true?”
 “I think?” It comes out airy and distracted. You don’t really know. Makes sense you suppose. More nerves in a smaller area. But you don’t care at the moment.
 He hums. “I think so too… Just look at you.”
 You grip his hair pulling just the slightest amount. Not demanding, just suggesting… hoping. 
 “Lick it?” You whisper, voice salacious and pleading. 
 He holds your gaze and does as you ask, licking softly, almost teasing. His head moves in a nodding motion as his tongue repeatedly grazes over your exposed clit, you can feel his breath hot against your fingers. It’s soft and slow, and just not enough. You whine as you roll your hips to meet his tongue and it’s pornographic, the way you can see a little string of spit and slick still connecting you together right before his tongue meets your clit again.
 “Point your tongue… faster- yeah flick it… fuck,” you whimper. It’s airy and the lust you’re feeling is tangible, just pouring from you. From your lips, your pussy. Your head falls back hitting the wall behind you. You’re sighing and nodding. Encouraging him, letting him know that yes, right there, that’s perfect. 
 The way your orgasm builds takes you by surprise. It starts as that gentle simmer curling in your belly and grows until it’s that sharp pleasure in your chest, taking your breath away. You normally can’t cum just from someone’s mouth, usually needing fingers as well, but Jeongguk’s tongue is magic and the way he suctions gently, making little pulsing sensations with his lips, is ruining you and your legs are starting to shake. 
 “Please… please make me cum,” You beg. “I’m so close Jeongguk please.”
 He groans and the vibrations thrum, heavenly against you as you watch his eyes roll back. His hands grip at your ass and pull you closer to his mouth. 
 “Fuck baby watch me. Look at me while you fall apart on my tongue.” He moans quickly against your cunt. The pet name that accidentally slips from his lips makes you buzz.
 And you do. You look at him and his tongue working wet and nasty against you; it’s the only thing he needs to wreck you. You watch as long as you can until the pleasure is too much and the string in you snaps, eyes falling shut as you moan out a litany of praises full of yes’s and his name. You cum, writhing against the wall. 
 Jeongguk’s on his feet and you’re off of yours, his hands coming up to cup your ass and hoist you against the wall. Your hands wrap around his neck, legs around his waist, and you smile at him as you regulate your breathing. He kisses you, and you whine when you taste yourself on his tongue.
 “I wanna- can I fuck you?” He whispers against your lips, between eager kisses. He presses into you, making you feel how hard he is again. You wonder if it even went down after he came.
 “Please,” you say nodding.
 He nips at your jaw and you feel his smile as he places a peck to soothe. “What did I say about begging?”
 You’re about to reply but gasp instead as you feel him move away from the wall to carry you effortlessly through his home. It’s big and modern, spacious with minimalistic decor, sprinkled with baby stuff here and there. You feel the plush cushion of his bed under you some moments later. He’s over you in an instant, licking into your mouth once again, body molding to yours. He rolls his hips a few times when you wrap your legs around his waist, before pulling away, your lips are the last thing to part, like he can’t get enough for you.
 “I’ll be right back,” he says. Another light kiss is given before he disappears into what you assume is the bathroom.
 You figure he’s cleaning up the mess he made earlier and probably getting condoms. You glance at the crib by the side of his bed that has yet to be removed. Hopefully, he’s getting condoms. If not, you think you have one in your bag. 
 You busy yourself by getting ready for him, taking your shirt and bra off leaving you completely nude. You flop back onto his bed and stretch your arms out, it’s big enough that you can starfish and not have your hands or feet hang off. It smells like a subdued, softer version of him. Less fragrant and cologne-y and more clean and gentle, like laundry detergent and the little trace of body wash that lingers on his skin after a shower. It’s earthy, and kind of feminine. You roll over and shove your face in his pillow, inhaling deeply. Sandalwood you think. You know you don’t have much time when you hear the faucet shut off, and drawers being rummaged through, so you settle on to your back again, lazily running your fingers over your body, waiting for him.
 The bathroom opens and Jeongguk walks out, naked as well. He’s stroking himself slowly as he strides towards you, his other hand full of the goods. Your eyes zero in on his cock. Out of his briefs you can clearly see just how big he is. You gulp.
 He climbs onto the bed and settles between your legs again when you open easily for him. You run your hands over his body, feeling the ripples of his muscles running under his skin. Fingertips touch at the ink on his shoulder. You were right, a full sleeve. 
 He’s looking at you, searching your face, hand brushing gently at your hair. “You still wanna?”
 You don’t hesitate to nod. “Mhmm.” You sit up and peck his lips sweetly. “Please,” You tease with a smile.
 He rolls his eyes playfully and sits back on his heels, reaching for the condom that he set aside. There’s a bottle of lube next to it. You sigh internally, grateful and knowing you’re going to need it.
 You crawl in front of him. 
 He places a hand on your head, making you stop abruptly and laugh on all fours.
 “I won’t last if you blow me.” He says.
 You pout, then mirror his position in front of him. “Can I put it on for you, then?”
 He quirks a brow, but hands the foil packet to you, only to get it back when you have trouble opening it due to your nails. You smile sheepishly at him and kiss him sweetly when he hands it to you again. You stroke his bare cock just a few times, eyes on his face when he hisses at the feel of your hand on him without any clothes in the way. You can’t help yourself; you lean down and lick at the shiny, dripping tip, swirling your tongue around the head. You flick your tongue, and stroke, his foreskin rolling over, as his eyes roll back. His hips buck just barely, before you feel a hand in your hair pulling you up.
 He’s laughing and presses his face into your cheek. “You don’t listen well, do you? Hmm?”
 You pull away just enough to look down and place the condom at the tip of his cock, pinching just a little at the top as you slowly roll it down his length. “I just know what I want.” you whisper, tongue in cheek. His thighs tense and he takes a sharp breath, mirroring you and looking down.
 With your hand on him, the apprehension starts to set in. He’s thick. And long. Your hands are small, barely able to wrap around the girth.
 “Fuck…” He whispers. He grabs your other hand and places it on his cock as well, one on top of the other, his pink tip still sticking out the top. “Your hands look so good around me.”
 You stroke him with both hands, slowly over the condom. “You’re- like the biggest I’ve ever seen.”
 Jeongguk must hear the nervous tone your voice has taken because he places his hands on your face and has you look at him. Your hands don’t leave him, anxious but still eager. “I’ll go slow, and if you need me to stop I will. Just tell me.” He kisses you again, and you nod against his lips before falling back onto his pillows.
 The lubes within reach so you grab it and drizzle some onto your fingers before bringing them down and rubbing over your opening. You’re wet already, of course, but you’re gonna need all the help you can get with him. You know it won’t be that bad, and that your body will do what it’s supposed to. You think that maybe it is a mix of being with someone new, someone that you’ve been wanting, as well as his size that has you on edge. When Jeongguk finds his way between your legs, you drizzle some lube onto his cock as well, stroking to make sure he is thoroughly covered before lining him up. You take a deep breath.
 Jeongguk’s patient. When the swollen tip of his cock slips in all he does is furrow his brow and drop his mouth open, keeping control and resisting the instinctual urge to bury himself inside of your warm, tight, soaking cunt.  He’s over you braced on his forearms, head hanging, watching his engorged cock slip into you little by little, your fat pussy lips pillowing around his girth. He flicks his eyes up to you when he reaches the thickest part of his cock. A worried wrinkle forms between his brows.
 For good reason. It hurts. You feel annoying pricks of tears sting your eyes. A little whimper passes your lips when he pushes in another inch more.
 “So big, Gguk,” You whisper. Your hands are on his back, digging in trying to focus on the give of his muscles when you press your nails into his skin.
 He’s quick, kissing on your face gently, telling you that you’re doing so well, and that it’s almost over, and that he's almost in. He brings a hand between your bodies and rubs at your clit, slowly, trying to distract you from the sting as best he can.
 It works. His fingers are skilled, and you want him so badly despite the little ache, and then he’s inside of you. He’s buried to the hilt, and you both sigh into each other’s mouths.
 “I need a second now,” He laughs on a whisper. “You’re so tight, feel so good around me.” He coos, praising you. Letting you know just how good you did. His face is in your neck, kissing, sucking little pink flowers into your skin. His hands come up to your tits once he’s settled back on his knees, and he squeezes them, jiggles them lightly. 
 He drools at how they rest into soft circles as you lay on your back beneath him. He pulls out a few inches before pushing back in slowly, biting his lip when he sees them bounce before pillowing back into place. He does it a few more times, making quiet moans fall from your lips.
 With Jeongguk inside of you, you can understand how he knocked someone up. His stroke is so good and skilled, making you feel every inch of him every time he makes your hips meet. Pussy swallowing his cock, wet and slick. You never want him to leave, never want him to stop fucking you. Want to wrap your legs around him and keep him inside of you forever. The sting of the stretch has long subsided, his cock now satisfyingly sliding against your sensitive walls, filling you up so well, the tip kissing your g spot every time he angles his hips just right. 
 “You feel so fucking good,” He moans. He’s looking down at where his hips are now slamming into you with long steady plunges. One leg is wrapped around his waist, the other pushed back, resting on his shoulder. “‘M gonna make you cum,” He tells you. Looking at you, holding eye contact, watching every little shift in your features as pleasure courses through your veins. “Just from my cock.” The pace he plunges into you is fast, strokes consistent and long, as his hair swings around his face with every thrust. “On every part of me. With my tongue and my cock in your little pussy today, my fingers next time.” He continues, kissing you softly. The juxtaposition between his sweet actions and filthy words makes your cunt pulse around him. “Does that sound good baby? Hmm? Do you want that?”
 You nod desperately. “Yeah, wanna fuck you all the time. Love your fat cock, Jeongguk.” You’ve got a hand clawing into his back, another raised over your head, so you don’t hit the headboard due to the force of his thrusts.
 Jeongguk groans, and shudders. His cock throbs, you can feel it jerk inside you. He slows for just a moment before he picks back up again, faster and harder and deeper. “Fuck, look at you. Taking my cock so well.” Every word is punctuated by him pounding into you. “You’re such a good girl, such a good fucking girl.” The slap of his hips is as loud as your moans, his words doing something insane to your body, cunt tightening as he makes good on his promise. Bringing you to the edge with just his cock. 
 He reads you well for a first-time fuck. “Are you close?” He asks.
 Your eyes are shut and you’re quieting, body tensing and locking up as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. All you do is nod.
 He moans, higher pitched than before and you feel his hips lose their rhythm for a second before recovering. “Ask me,” He pants. “Ask me if you can cum.”
 Your eyes open and he’s looking at you with a sort of abashed expression on his face. A peek at the timid, shy Jeongguk you knew before you met the one fucking you into his matress. You agree easily with a jerky nod, letting him take control, tell you what to do. He said he would give you whatever you want, and you’ll do the same for him. Anything to make him feel as good as he’s making you.
 It’s not long before you’re doing what he asks.
 “Gguk… I’m gonna- Can I-” Your body shakes, and you turn your head to the side, trying to hide from him. “Please can I cum?” You mewl.
 You feel him grip your jaw, turning your face and making you look at him. “Yeah baby, cum for me. Lemme see.” His hand keeps a hold on you, and his hips never stop the whole time the rush burns through you. Your eyes are closed as you clench and cream on his cock, but he watches you. The way you don't know what to do with your hands, settling for pulling at his sheets. He watches every phase of your climax pass over your face. The look of almost confusion as you get overwhelmed, the devastating pleasure as you peak, the serene smile as you start to come down. 
 His hips slow, but don’t stop. He kisses you deep, before murmuring against your red bitten lips, fingers still gripping your jaw, keeping you where he wants you. “What do you say?”
 You know what he wants to hear, you give in effortlessly. It’s soft and saccharine sweet when you say, “Thank you.” 
 The submission does something to Jeongguk and his hold gets almost painful, before he sits up, and switches to grabbing at your hips, pulling you down onto his cock. “Good, you’re so good. Gonna make me fucking cum.”
 You nod, watching him while lying on your back. Tits bouncing every time he pumps his cock into you, frantic and needy. His hands on your hips are bruising, and his eyes are stuck on the way your pink pussy is getting beat up by his fat cock. He grabs one of your hands and brings it to his chest, urging you to rub your fingers over his nipple.
 “Yeah, touch me,” He whimpers as his head falls back and he moans shamelessly. “Fuck. Gonna cum.”
 He’s so beautiful when he does. His face is flushed, and he looks at you until he can't keep his eyes open, mouth parted, sporadic huffs falling from his lips as his chest heaves before his whole body tenses and jerks. He chokes out the softest, “Cumming.” and you feel him press into you as far as he can, spilling into the condom. His tattoos are a lovely contrast to his fair skin, the way the dark ink shines due to the light sheen of sweat coating his body is captivating. His neck is strong, and you spy a couple of little bruises that you don’t even remember leaving, but they look almost as pretty as his tattoos. When he looks at you again, you feel new waves of arousal flicker. He looks almost lost and overcome with the pleasure he’s feeling, eyes so dark and hooded, body still trembling a little as he keeps his hips moving in the smallest minute little thrusts, milking his cock of everything, like he never wants to pull out.  
 But of course, he does. Tying off the condom and plopping it onto his nightstand. He lays next to you, not too close, but his hand reaches out to play with yours laying by your side. He hums before laughing. It’s airy, both of you still catching your breath.
 “I can’t believe we christened my daughter's room.”
 You laugh with him, rubbing a hand over your face kind of embarrassed. You roll to face him. “Sorry you just- make me so crazy.”
 He faces you as well, and his eyes are sparkling with laughter. He pokes you in the forehead, “You make me crazy. You make my morals nonexistent.” He kisses your cheek softly before heaving himself up. “And I think that’s the cue for the wine.” He grabs a pair of new briefs from his dresser pulling them on before he grabs something from a different drawer and throwing it at you. One of his shirts. Walking towards the door, he turns to you. “Want a glass?”
 You fiddle with the shirt in your hands. “It’s getting late, maybe I should-”
 “You can stay.” He interrupts. He’s not looking at you, fingernails suddenly very interesting.
 “Do you want me to?” You ask.
 He shrugs. “I mean you still have to help me finish Nari’s room. You were the one that distracted us by jumping off a stepstool to get your hands on me.” He’s smirking when your head whips up to look at him, expression appalled. 
 “I did not jump. I fell.”
 He rolls his eyes, a big smile replacing the smirk. “Yeah, okay.”
 “Fuck you, go get the wine Daddy.”
helloooo! thank you for reading friends 🥺 i hope you liked it. i’ve got one thing to say..... nari main character.... please like and reblog  if you enjoyed, tell ya friends, drop a comment, leave a note, send an ask... lemme know ur thoughts pals ily <3
series masterlist, pt 1, pt 2, pt 3
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lavishedinjimin · 4 months ago
Muse -> kth (art students! au)
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— synopsis: Out of all the things in the world, one final project at the end of the semester was the least of your expectations. What you didn’t expect, though, was partnering up with Kim Taehyung, the most respected senior artist on campus. But what the—he wants to do what with you?!
↳ pairing: taehyung x f. reader
↳ genre: f2l, smut
↳ rating: 18+
↳ word count: 17.4k
↳ warnings: dom/sub themes, virgin/corruption kink, unprotected sex, slight size kink, degradation, oral sex (m and f receiving), breeding, name-calling, faceslapping, ragdoll y/n lol kidding, Taehyung doesn’t care that OC’s a virgin, if you get what I mean, everything consensual
Reminder: Before you read, I just want to say that I am nowhere near an art student so some pointers, terms, or subjects that are stated on this fanfic might be incorrect or misused. I tried to fact-check to the best of my abilities haha! Enjoy!
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Giving the portfolio back to your possession, he speaks at the same time: “It’s still a suggestion after all. You can tell me yours if you have one.”
You chuckle at that. Little did he know that your mind was too busy overthinking how things stacked up instead of brainstorming an idea. Since you feel more comfortable with him than before, you tell the truth.
“I have absolutely no idea,” you snicker. 
“Yeah?” he smirks, nodding his head once. “I hate to say this, but this is the only concept I’ve got as well.” Taehyung sits down crossed-legged beside you on the bed, tapping his fingers on his pile of nude portraits. 
“Then I’ve got no choice but to say yes.” 
Taehyung feels his heart thump rapidly in his chest. 
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You sat silently at the very back of the lecture hall, sipping on your Iced Americano as you doodled aimlessly at the back of your sketchpad, listening to music through your headphones. The room was still empty, being one of the few ones to arrive early.
You jump when a hand suddenly smacks your desk, looking up to see who it was.
Lee Yeseul. You were tempted to roll your eyes at her, but you knew better. She leans at the back of someone’s chair, staring down at you with her signature annoying smirk. She touches her ears, wanting you to remove your headphones. Not complying with her demand, you continue to draw, completely disregarding her. You do not want to waste your time dealing with a bitch that wants attention.
Yeseul grunts in annoyance as she steps forward, removing the device away from your head.
You groan from her aggressiveness. “Hey! What the—” She throws your headphones on your desk.
She scoffs, “I was trying to talk to you, loser.”
You send her a glare, “I thought people like you don’t talk to losers like me.”
Yeseul was – as cringy as it may sound – your typical, spoiled brat in her class who bullies everyone for her gratification. She thinks that she’s the best artist on this campus and always discourages everyone below her. She’s a senior artist, and you were still a freshman. Plus, you are always unaccompanied and private, making you the perfect target. But you were smarter than other people. You didn’t give her the reaction and satisfaction that she needs, shrugging her away when she tries to make a move on you.
Adding to that, you liked to be alone. You like to think and create paintings on your own time and own style. You focused more on uniqueness and making your own color and design, while others just wanted their painting to be pretty.
“Leave me alone, Yeseul. You’re wasting your time.”
She laughs, tucking a strand of her ashy-brown hair behind her ear. “Whatever, Y/n. I think you’re the one who’s wasting their time drawing.”
Is she actually serious?
“Dumbass,” you mutter under your breath, not enough for Yeseul to hear. You still don’t look at her as you continue your little portrait of Captain America. “I think you’re forgetting that we’re both an art student, Yeseul. Get away from me and go hang out with your boyfriends or something.”
You hear her gasp, clearly struck by your words. Yeseul hasn’t got a boyfriend which was the point of your remark. She always tries so hard to seduce every senior artist, but everyone was clever enough to focus on their projects rather than deal with an annoying child like her.
“Oh, Y/n. You wished you never said that.” She spoke with a deep and slow voice, trying to intimidate you.
You chuckle as you place your headphones back, “Oooh, scary.”
Before she could even retort, you notice that your professor has come inside the room and you quickly discard your headset and shove it inside your bag. Yeseul scurries to her seat in the front row as other colleagues pack the room.
Normally, the freshman and senior artists would have their separate rooms and schedules, but earlier today, the head professor of the Arts District had announced all students to gather inside the hall. You didn’t know the reason why, or what she had planned.
“Everyone, take a seat please,” the professor beamed with a kind smile.
Unexpectedly, loud laughter resonates around the room as a group of boys suddenly enter, not noticing the professor in front of them.
“I swear, she looked like a deer in headlights when I said those words to her. Ten out of ten would do it again.” One of them says out loud, eyes disappearing from smiling too much. You chuckle in your seat as you sip on your coffee.
They all jumped simultaneously, turning towards the professor’s direction where she had her hands on her hips, clearly pissed. They bowed at her, stating their apologies.
“Kim Taehyung, still hanging out with these kids? I thought you’re better than that.”
Kim Taehyung, the top senior artist. All A’s, immaculate artworks. 
He has the highest scores out of everyone, his artwork better than all of the Fine Arts students. Tons of students really look up to him and almost praise him for his paintings. Not only that, but he was also Yeseul’s target. You flick your eyes in her direction, watching how she rests her chin on her right palm, staring at Taehyung in awe.
But in all honesty, Taehyung had the looks. He has slightly wavy hair, his dark brown eyes similar to the color of your Americano. His face was shaped perfectly like it was created by Aphrodite herself. You figure that he also likes to work out, his broad chest and shoulders were undoubtedly eye-catching as well. You lick your lips unknowingly.
He wasn’t a troublemaker, as you recall, though he only hangs out with such people. Whenever you see his artwork posted around the campus, it encourages you to put more effort into your work. He was just like you. He’s not following anyone’s lead, and he knows what he likes. He knows how to stand out effortlessly, and his paintings are one of a kind.
And still, there was not a single molecule in your system that had the courage for you to talk to him. No matter how kind and approachable he seems to be, you were still shy – and he was still intimidating. Not to mention his friends. You never had a good past with some seniors anyway – some of them had a mindset that all freshmen should ‘get on their level’ before they would talk to them. All of it was a bunch of nonsense.
Taehyung doesn’t say anything in reply to the professor, instead, he bows. All seven of them sat a few rows in front of you. You caught sight of Yeseul’s dirty look towards you. 
She’s so immature.
“Anyway, all of you are probably wondering why I brought you here.” You don’t notice that your coffee is already empty until you only hear slurping sounds, your straw trying to get more of the liquid. Frowning, you slumped your body on the chair as you listened.
The professor suddenly brings out a folder, making your intrusiveness grow wider. “I have paired every one of you to work on a year-end project for portraiture.”
You could’ve sworn you felt your heart drop to the ground.
“Each freshman will be paired with one senior, and the two must decide who will do the work.”
You hear recurring gasps and groans; agreeing to your thoughts. “That’s bullshit,” you heard someone grumble under their breath.
“Everyone, let me clarify. Since my class focuses on portraitures, one of you will draw, and the other one will be your muse. But I still should see the collaboration of ideas here.”
“No way, madam.” One of Taehyung’s friends quickly speaks as he stands up, making their group laugh, and pull him back down to his seat, patting his back.
“Yes way, Mr. Kim Seokjin. I want everyone to trust me with their partners. I know each of my students and I’ve paired everyone based on the similarities of your portfolio. This is to build everyone’s ability to work with a fellow artist, and to share ideas.”
You snort as she mentions all the things you hate the most.
“The pair who has the highest score will have their painting displayed inside the Fine Arts Exhibition building.” Your eyes enlarge, irises sparkling in abrupt desire.
The Exhibition! 
You’ve tried so hard to get one of your art exhibited inside that place. It was where some lucky students’ creations will be shown if their professors liked their work specifically, or if it stood out to them. It was almost rare for professors to choose art made by a freshman, but you wanted to change that. You received hope for this project all of the sudden, and the Fine Arts Exhibition was the only thing that’s currently driving you to your goal.
“And by the way, there are no limits for this project. Any concept, any art style is appreciated – as always.” 
Your professor was already announcing partners, and your heart was thumping too fast for your liking. You bite your lip from the horrible atmosphere, your palms getting sweaty. You acknowledge a lot of sighs and grunts when they hear their partners, and you just wish that you’ll get someone assiduous enough.
“Kim Namjoon with Sing Junghoon, Park Jimin with Yong Hyesa, Kim Taehyung with…” you didn’t know you were holding your breath as she flips the page.
The world feels like it was in slow motion.
“Kim Taehyung with Y/n.”
Silence fell inside the room once you heard your name fall unexpectedly from your professor’s lips. You hear a couple of murmurs and whispers as Taehyung swivels around to look at you. His eyes meet with your wide ones in complete shock. Taehyung’s face was not as different as yours; his mouth was slightly open and his eyes big. A couple of his friends look at you as well, making your face warm in embarrassment.
No fucking way.
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“You really think that you could work with her?” Park Jimin asked, still scanning the utter turmoil that Taehyung was in. Taehyung doesn’t reply as he keeps his eyes on you, eating your lunch with your friends. He sees how you weren’t keeping track of what your friends were even saying from being so immersed in your meal. Taehyung watches you flip your hair to one side of your shoulder.
“Hey,” Jimin nudges his shoulder.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
Jimin scoffs, “I asked you how you are supposed to work with a girl like her.”
He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he lets out a sarcastic chuckle, still keeping an eye on you. One of your friends suddenly snatches a piece of meat from your plate and runs away with it, instantly plopping it inside her mouth. You don’t even bother scolding her for it.  
Taehyung tilts his head to the side and clicks his tongue. “I don’t know, man. But we’ll see. I’ll figure her out.”
He turns to Seokjin, who was looking at him suspiciously. “Stop staring her down like she’s a piece of meat. What are you thinking about?”
“So how are you with you and Lee Minseo?”
Seokjin laughs at his attempt, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re not so smooth, Taehyung. Anyway, Minseo and I have talked about it already. We’re meeting up tomorrow.”
Taehyung frowns, slightly jealous of his friend. Seokjin already has everything planned out when he doesn’t, and it was a first for him.
Normally, Taehyung was always the first one to have everything arranged. But he just doesn’t know anything about you besides being so introverted and shy. “You, go approach her, immediately.”
He turns to Seokjin while his eyes narrow, “Right now?”
“Yeah. Don’t you wanna finish this project as soon as possible? Taehyung, you have to know who you’re working with first. Y/n probably won’t make the first move, and I know that you know that.”  
Taehyung runs his tongue along his bottom lip, observing how you were nodding and smiling at your small group. He hasn’t seen any of your artwork yet, and he was curious.
Maybe it was just like his: distinct and unique. The kind where there’s no specific explanation to it, for it was open to interpretation. The words of your professor repeat inside Taehyung’s mind, and his body suddenly fills with optimism.
Seokjin laughs at him. He sees how Taehyung’s face changes with determination, knowing exactly what was going through his mind. “Go, Taehyung.”
He smirks as he slings his bag around his shoulders.
Who are you, and what do you like, Y/n?
“Why are you not excited about this, Y/n? You’ve partnered up with Kim Taehyung! Your work will end up inside the exhibition for sure!” Seoyun, one of the few people that you were friends with says with a huge smile on her face. You look down, blushing. You don’t know why but every time someone mentions his name, you immediately turn shy.
“I don’t exactly know how I’m supposed to feel, Seoyun.”
“Y/n, seriously, you’re so lucky. He’s the top student, and he’s also very tall and hot!”
You blush at Hayoon’s statement.
“But I mean, I understand that you’re shy to come up to him, but it’s for a project, Y/n. Don’t you wanna do this for the exhibition?”
You frown, “I do, but I just…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try to talk to him someday when I get the confidence. Maybe.”
“Y/n…” Seoyun warns your name out loud, her eyes focused somewhere behind you. “I think that someday is today.”
“Nope. Perhaps tomorrow.”
Seoyun panics and grits her teeth as she speaks, “No, I mean, like right now!” 
You crease your eyebrows at her, “What do you mean?”
Your eyes followed where Seoyun was looking at and you turned around, almost shitting your pants as you saw the one and only Kim Taehyung behind you, smiling as he grips his bag straps. Your mouth opens as you try to speak, but nothing comes out. He was wearing a black button-up tucked inside black slacks. His hair is slightly wavy and long that covers the top of his eyes. His appearance up close immediately took your breath away.
“Hey, Y/n,” he smiled, eyes narrowing a little as he flashed you a cute heart-like smile. You could’ve sworn you heard your friends squeal just a little.
But you, on the other hand, start to panic. Were you supposed to stand up and greet him? Or should you just sit there and smile without being too obvious of your feelings? You remove your gaze from him and look down on the cemented floor as you try to find your words. 
“Hi,” you peek up at him. 
You can feel Hayoon stepping on your foot, making you screech quietly. She gives you a look that says ‘get a grip!’, and you try your best not to fuck up.
Taehyung chuckles silently and steps forward, making your heart race. He sits on the space next to you, letting his bag rest on the floor of the cafeteria.
You were too close to him at this moment. He never lost his eye contact with you – which made your chest pound rapidly. You nervously tap your foot on the ground, your friends clearly aware of your behavior.
“Do you girls mind if I sit here for a moment?”
They nod at his request, yet you were still there, sitting in shock and not saying anything. You let your hair fall to cover the sides of your face so that Taehyung can’t surely see you. 
“So, how’s everyone’s day?” Taehyung asks, turning his attention to the two other girls. They instantly reply.
“You just made it better,” Hayoon beams, leaning her head on her right palm. The way she was scanning him up and down was just too obvious. Taehyung only nods with a smile.
If other people saw what was happening right now; Kim Taehyung, sitting with three other girls during lunch break, would probably assume things instantly. You already sense people burning holes at your back.
“Y/n?” Taehyung’s voice suddenly says right in your ear while your body jumps in surprise. He laughs a little at your reaction.
“Don’t worry about her, Taehyung. She’s probably just speechless.” You narrow your eyes as you give a death glare to Seoyun. Taehyung’s lips curve into a smirk as he looks down. His hair falls right in front of his eyes and it almost gives you a small instinct to brush it away from his face.
“So Y/n, I came here to ask you something,” Taehyung speaks as he scoots closer to you. You gulp at the sudden proximity, wanting to move away from him but you were afraid to look rude. You don’t reply, so Taehyung just continues. “Do you want to meet up after your schedule? You know, talk about the project?”
You hang your head low as you try to find the correct words. Of course, you want to get this project done as soon as possible, but just being with Taehyung was too much for you to handle – or that’s what you think anyway.
“Of course she does!” Hayoon exclaims first but Seoyun stops her furthermore.
“Hey,” he whispers beside you. Taehyung wishes to place his hand on your shoulder to assure you, but he stops himself. Taehyung finds yourself so endearing, even if you weren’t saying much. He’s already so engrossed by you, but heck – he still doesn’t know much about you.
He admits to himself that you’re cute.
“What do you think? I mean, if you want we can talk tomorrow. I’ll give you your time if you’re not comfortable with today and I’m sure I can—”
“No! No, um. We can meet today.” You cut him off immediately, finally using your voice again. You knew that both of you wanted to finish this project quickly, so you don’t want to lose any more time. Taehyung flashes you a gorgeous smile as he lifts a hand in front of you for a handshake.
“Great! Let’s meet up at the main gate later when you’re done with everything.”
You shyly reach out to him and you clasp your hands together, his slender hand bigger in comparison to yours. “Nice to meet you Y/n.”
You force out a small smile at him, “You too, Taehyung.”
Your hands stay together for a few seconds before he retrieves his hand back with a little smile. He grabs his bag and finally stands up, “Nice talking to you, ladies.” He gives a final smile and walks away.
You look behind you, keeping your eyes on him, and watch how he brushes his hair with his right hand, throwing his head back.
Park Jimin, who is also one of his friends, was waiting for him and he gives Taehyung a fist bump. Jimin suddenly locks eyes with you and gives you an unsuspecting wink. Your eyes become big and you quickly look away, turning your attention back to the girls who were looking at you with a wide grin. 
You let out a deep sigh, your mind running with numerous thoughts. You were always like this; you tend to overanalyze things. The term ‘go with the flow’ wasn’t always a strong pursuit when it comes to you. There were times where you wanted to change this personality of yours and live life in the present, to stop yourself from thinking way too deep in the future, but change is difficult. You admit that you have problems with self-confidence, and you hope that you could change that.
Especially being partners with Taehyung. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him.
This is one of the reasons why you paint. It was always a contrivance to express your personality when your own words and actions couldn’t. You just bring out a canvas and some tools, and you can communicate your emotions.
You hope Taehyung won’t see you as weird. You hope he’d understand you.
Main gate. Main gate.
Did he already arrive? Or do I have to wait for him?
What if he doesn’t come and I just made a fool of myself?
Is it even three o’clock?
You bite your lip as you check your watch, and yes, it was exactly three o’clock.
What if I’m too early?
You groan at all of the thoughts that have been eating your mind. You grip the bag straps tighter as you keep walking towards the main gate where Taehyung told you to meet up. You hope that he’ll already be there because you didn’t want to wait at all.
“Y/n! Wait up!”
Oh, God. You knew who that voice belonged to.
You turn around and see a familiar ashy-brown hair, smiling at you. “What do you need, Yeseul?” You mutter.
She comes up beside you and smiles like she wasn’t just saying shit to you earlier at the lecture hall. “Where are you going?”
“The main gate,” you reply monotonously.
“Oh! Me too! Let’s walk together.” You sigh quietly, not loud enough that she could hear. You can already guess what she originally planned, and you were not prepared for it.
“How’s it like being partnered with Taehyung?”
You gulp, avoiding eye contact. You don’t say anything as you keep walking. “You’re one lucky freshman, Y/n. Are you and him close already?”
Lucky. You heard that word a million times today.
You shake your head, “I don’t know. I’m supposed to meet up with him now to talk about the project.”
“Oh,” she scoffs, “but I just saw him a few minutes ago! He’s still hanging out with his friends. They’re at –” Before she can finish her sentence, a voice calls out your name and you turn around, somewhat smiling in relief when you spot Taehyung, running up to you with a smile on his face.
Yeseul looks at Taehyung and then back to you, clenching her jaw. You wanted to laugh at her, but you prevent yourself from doing so.
Taehyung comes up to you with two Iced Americanos, “I figured that you love these.” You shyly look away from him while a smile creeps up your face, feeling your cheeks turn scarlet.
“You didn’t have to. I-I’ll pay you back!”
“No, please. It’s a gift from me.”
Your heart melts from his simple action, although you remember that Yeseul was still right beside you. She sneers at the both of you, “Wow, am I disturbing something?”
Taehyung turns his head in her direction, “Yes, you are.”
Ding, ding, ding! Knockdown!
Yeseul rolls her eyes and proceeds to walk away, but she was still looking at Taehyung, “Tae! Maybe you should buy me a coffee next time.” Taehyung chuckles as a reply, letting her walk away without replying. He looks back at you, “Sorry about that.”
Shaking your head immediately, you spoke, “Don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry about. She’s crazy.”
“I know she hates you.”
“You do? How?” You lift an eyebrow at him, and he smiles pathetically at you.
“She always talks about people she hates during class when the professor’s not around. It’s sad, honestly.”
‘Wow, she’s really living like that?’ You think to yourself.
Shrugging your shoulders, you say, “Well, she likes you.”
Taehyung laughs quietly, “I’m not into girls like her, Y/n.”
“Oh,” you awkwardly chuckle, “okay.”
Then what are you into, Taehyung?
You almost wanted to slap yourself from that stupid thought.
“Let’s go?”
Both of you proceed to walk towards the main gate, not knowing where he was planning to take you. Once you are out of the campus, he leads you to a shaded seating area where he and his friends would usually hang out.
He sits down and motions you to sit across from him. You obey, placing your tote bag beside you, a wooden table separating the two of you. 
Nervousness came to visit you again. 
Taehyung smiles, “So…” he takes a sip on his coffee, and you instinctively do the same. “How did you feel when they said that we were doing a project?”
You chuckle, looking away from him as you still couldn’t stare at his eyes for any longer than five seconds. “I…I was expecting it to be individual work. But when she said that we’d be pairing up with seniors, I was lowkey disappointed.”
He smirks at you, leaning his head on one hand. His strong gaze was directly on yours and you found it hard to speak when he was staring at you like that. You didn’t have much experience talking with boys, and everything was a new occurrence for you.
“What? Why?” He seems so intrigued, which pushes you to continue. 
“Well, I’m not really into these group projects and pairs… and all that. It might seem kind of shit to you but it’s just what I prefer.”
“No, it’s alright,” he waves his hand in front of him, “You can say anything and I’ll listen. I know people who are like you as well. They would rather work by themselves so they can work freely, is that it?”
You grin at him, the feeling of being understood satisfies your heart. “Exactly. It’s not like I hate people, or I don’t value their opinion or ideas. But if there was an option of working individually instead of with another person then I’d go by myself.”
Before you can forget, you seize your collection of paintings from your tote bag so that he can take a look at your artwork and style, handing it to him with a little smile. He gladly accepts the thick, black portfolio and puts it inside his own bag.
The corner of his mouth lifts, leaning his body forward as he rests his forearms on the table. There was a certain glint in his eyes that you can’t seem to comprehend. “Let’s say there was an option to go solo on this project, would you leave me?”  
Fuck. You don’t know how to answer that question.
You weren’t sure of your thoughts, too. If you said yes, you probably sound like you didn’t want to work with him. But on the other hand, Taehyung enthralled you. You want to see how things will turn out if you work with him. His works had a unique statement that only Kim Taehyung could create. You want to see how both your ideas combined will come to life.
“Well?” He teases, obviously knowing what he’s doing to you. He likes the way your face gets flushed in shyness.  
“No,” you giggle.
“No?” A look of bewilderment covers his face. He was sure that you would’ve chosen to go solo. He smiles as he squints his eyes at you slightly, “And why’s that?”
“Because I want to work with you, and maybe…” you pause for a while to find the correct words to say, “and maybe get to know you a little more.”
His heart quickly warms up, feeling the satisfaction from your answer. He felt the same way with you – and he was excited to work with an artist who had the same interest as him, hopefully.
“So, do you have any ideas?” You asked. You didn’t brainstorm on anything yet and all that was in your mind was working with Kim Taehyung. He smiles and leans forward, combing his hair back. “I want to do something different, something that I’ve never tried before.”
You chuckle, “I thought you’ve tried everything already, Taehyung.”
His eyes turn into slits as he laughs, showing off his teeth, “Not everything, babe.”
Your heart skips a beat as you gulp, feeling things that you aren’t supposed to feel.
“You see, there’s one type of painting that hasn’t been featured on the exhibition building yet. And you know what that is?” he asks, never losing eye contact.
“Uh…” you look up, trying to think as you imagine all the art displayed inside the exhibition. As you do so, Taehyung scans your face, taking a good look at you.
He wishes his plan goes well.
“I’m not so sure,” you smile lightly.
You crease your forehead when you notice that Taehyung was hesitating to say something, his eyes darting in different directions. The look on his face worried you. “Taehyung? What is it?” you lean forward in an attempt to make him feel at ease.
Your heart jumps when he finally locks his strong eyes with you once again.
“WHAT?” you fume as you slam your hand down on the wooden table, abruptly standing up from your seat. Taehyung anticipated this reaction, so he was calm. “You want to do what?!”
“Y/n,” he starts, urging you to sit back on your seat, but you still stand your ground. Suddenly, you remember that one of you has to be a muse; oh my god—this is a portraiture project!
“Y/n, Y/n, hear me out,” he laughs quietly, watching all the blood rush through your face. “It will be fun!”
“I am so not getting undressed in front of you, Taehyung! I know you’re attractive, we both get it! Sure, you’re fucking hot! But I’m not! I won’t show my body to you! Especially not for this project! No!” You stomp your feet like a child, pacing left and right as Taehyung watches you with an endearing smile. He tilts his head to the side, placing his chin on the palm of his hand. He examines you, eyes running up and down your figure as your words of abrupt compliments repeated again and again in his mind. He didn’t even notice that he was biting his lips.
“Sit down.” He says firmly with a deep voice, making your stomach turn.
Maybe it’s the coffee.
It’s definitely the coffee.
You gulp as you did as you’re told. As if you can’t get any more bashful, you turn your head away from him.
“I’m sorry if it was too abrupt, Y/n.” he speaks with a monotone voice and you can feel the timbre in your fucking tummy. “But I just think a nude painting will be a good idea, it’ll be unique, Y/n. No one has ever created art like that before on our campus. It will be the first. There’s no way it wouldn’t be displayed in the exhibition.”
He sighs quietly when you don't buy his pursuit.
“Sorry, Y/n. I understand that you’re not up for it.”
Wow. Is he guilt-tripping?
You grab your bag whilst standing up again from your seat. You see the shock in his expression. “W-Where are you going?”
“Back to my dorm. I need to think.”
“Y/n, please, let’s try this again, okay? Just forget that I even suggested it—”
You clench your jaw, gazing at him one final time. “I said I’ll think about it, Kim Taehyung.” And at that, you turn your back to him and walk away to catch a bus ride home to your dorm, leaving Taehyung and your empty cup of coffee behind.
And… something else.
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Taehyung hates the way he feels right now. As he slumps his body down on his bed, his body feels like it weighs a hundred times heavier. He admits that it was his fault; he shouldn’t have suggested that idea, especially to a person – to a girl that he wasn’t close with.
“I won’t show my body to you! No! Especially not for this project!”
Your words repeated inside his mind as if stabbing his idiotic brain. He picks up a pillow and groans loudly against it, closing his eyes in dismay.
“I know you’re attractive, we both get it! Sure, you’re fucking hot! But I’m not!”
Little did you know… little did you know that Kim Taehyung finds you attractive as well.
Cries of frustration leave his lips. The deadline of the project was next week and big activities like this should be planned out until tomorrow. God, what the hell is he supposed to do now?
Suddenly, his phone vibrates upon the pocket of his slacks. He picks it out and reads the I.D: Seokjin.
He rests his head against the pillow, answering his friend’s call. “Hello?”
“What happened? I saw Y/n fucking leaving you out there!” Seokjin laughs loudly, making Taehyung blush in embarrassment. “What the fuck happened with the two of you? It was like a freaking breakup scenario!”
“Hyung, stop laughing,” Taehyung sighs while rubbing his face with his other hand, “I messed up. I messed up so bad.”
Seokjin was still laughing at the other end of the call, cackling like a madman. Seokjin – knowing Taehyung – actually thought to himself that his plan would flourish. “Kim Taehyung, what the hell did you say?”
“Just… I just suggested an idea that she didn’t like.”
“Wow. That’s a first!” he snorts, “I can’t wait to tell the boys this one—”
“Seokjin, please. I don’t want to lose this.”
“You say that every time, Tae. And every time you fucking win.”
He thinks for a while, ignoring Seokjin’s voice for a short amount of time. His mind wanders off to somewhere else, going into a world of his thoughts.
“I don’t want to lose her.”
The line falls silent.
“Taehyung,” the older one says first, his voice now empathic, “what’s up?”
He doesn’t regret what he said, nor he doesn’t want to take it back. In his mind, Y/n was the prettiest girl he has ever laid eyes on. Sure, he did not notice her much before the announcement at the lecture hall, but at the exact moment they both laid their eyes with each other, he was starstruck by your beauty.
Taehyung’s idea of a nude portrait was initiated before the professor announced partners. He already had this vision even before he knew who his partner would be. If his partner were a man, there wouldn’t be a problem with that, he would still recommend the idea. But when Y/n’s name was called, he was deep down excited.
He, although, feels bad. You must have felt so flustered. He wishes he could turn back time and forget that he said that if your reaction was negative.
Taehyung understands your point of view though. He was a man that you don’t know, you two weren’t friends, you two weren’t close. He had only started talking to you today, and it was too abrupt for him to recommend something like this.
But despite the fact, he hopes that you won’t ditch him as his partner or go solo because he genuinely wants to work with you. Someone as mysterious and captivating as you shouldn’t be ignored and be overlooked.
“Taehyung, are you still there?” Seokjin’s voice snaps him out of the trail of thoughts.
“Are you okay? I think you zoned out.”
“Yup, I’m…I’m fine,” he takes a deep breath. “I’ll call you later, hyung. I need to do something.”
“Alright then,” Seokjin says, “See you.”
“See you.”
Taehyung throws his phone somewhere on the bed and is quick to rush to his bag that was on the floor.
He takes out your portfolio.
With careful hands, he feels his chest sinking. Why did he feel so upset? Flipping to the first page, a feeble smile paints his face as the first image was a picture of you.
He traces the image with his index finger, his smile growing bigger as he further examines your face.
“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself.
Taehyung traces your full name written in cursive at the bottom of the image. Was it weird to depict how someone’s name can fit a person’s character so much?
At the very corner of the page was your social media account, specifically your Instagram. Without thinking any further, he crosses his legs together and places the portfolio flat down in front of him on the mattress. Grabbing his phone, he types in your username.
“Oh wow,” he chuckles in delight, being more enchanted by your beauty. The pictures in your profile consisted more of your artwork, but the best artwork he saw was you.
Taehyung spends the remaining time of his afternoon examining and admiring your works. Mostly abstract and full of vibrant colors, just like his. Each one of your creations screamed your name. Your style was something else; and he truly believes that the two of you will make a great partner, giving and receiving tips and advice from each other.
It doesn’t matter that you’re still a freshman art student. Your art, in Taehyung’s opinion, is masterpieces that deserve a place in the exhibition.
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The next morning at school, you purposely avoid Taehyung and his group with your head low as you walk past them, continuing the journey to your classroom.
Jimin nudges Taehung’s shoulder when he spots you. Quickly, you scurry away from them.
“Umm…” Jungkook starts, looking at Taehyung with a confused expression. “You two still aren’t close?”
“Yeah,” Jimin buts in, “the deadline is in 6 days. Remember Taehyung, this is a big-scale project.”
“It’s seven in the fucking morning,” Taehyung grunts, “Can you guys not rub it in my face that I did a horrible job with Y/n yesterday?”
As the group of boys goes their separate ways, Seokjin sticks by Taehyung’s side. The two make their way across the green campus field. “You can say it, you know,” Seokjin speaks. Taehyung lifts a brow at him.
“Say that you like her.”
Taehyung’s mouth curves into a smile, eyes narrowing. “It feels unfair. She fucking hates me.”
“So, you like her?”
He groans, “I do like her.” A blush creeps up his face, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck timidly, “I like her a lot.”
“Well, you reap what you sow. You better fix this before Y/n changes her mind and goes solo.”
But what Taehyung doesn’t know is that you truly have no plans to go solo.
You, on the other hand, were a mess last night. You wondered if Taehyung hates you, or if you looked like a fool yelling at him. But what’s more stupid is how the fuck you’re getting your portfolio back without it being awkward.
You couldn’t even at least spare him a glance earlier as you walked past him. How are you going to actually talk to him face-to-face?
Going to the café that you usually visit every day to buy your coffee, you were about to pay for your drink until two familiar faces ran up to you.
“Make those three cups!” Hayoon shouts and you immediately press your index finger against your lips, shushing her.
You turn your attention back to the lady behind the counter, “Three iced coffees please.”
“Sooooo?” Seoyun walks up behind you to massage your shoulders, easing the tension from your stressed muscles. “How did it go? You didn’t send us a text.”
“What, with Taehyung?” you say while your two friends follow you to sit at the nearest unoccupied table. They eagerly nod, excited for what you will say.
“Did you guys bond well?”
“At first, yes,” you say under your breath, avoiding eye contact as you do, “but, uh, he just said something I didn’t like.”
Hayoon and Seoyun gasp. They both look at each other before exclaiming, “What?!”
Seoyun brings his fist down on the table, “Did that motherfucker harass you—”
“No!” you quickly retort, shaking your head as your eyes fly to the other customers in the shop to see if they heard your friend’s harsh speculations.
Who's gonna tell your friends that Kim Taehyung suggested a fucking nude painting.
“I can’t say exactly what it was. But I need to talk to him today because I forgot I gave him my goddamn portfolio.” 
“Miss Y/n?” The bartender calls out your name, and Seoyun was kind enough to fetch it for you.
Hayoon was next to speak, “You guys aren’t getting along well?”
You shake your head ‘no’ as an answer.
“That isn’t good, Y/n. It’s either you both fix whatever happened or go solo. Would you rather go solo?”
“No.” You immediately say without any hesitation.
“Remember, Y/n. I feel like Taehyung is your golden ticket to the exhibition. Don’t waste the opportunity.”
Seoyun gives you and Hayoon your coffees before standing up.
After a little more banter, the three of you part ways, going to each of your respective destinations.
As the day went on, today felt like it was a thousand hours long. It was boring, and you thought that seeing Taehyung again would make things better.
No longer being mad at him for what happened yesterday, you had a goal to find him on this big campus. Students were either looking chill; calm and collected, or they’re speed-walking stressfully to their classes.
Though cliché as it may seem, art students are really competitive when an opportunity of their creation being displayed in the Fine Arts exhibition building comes to play. It makes them feel the gratification of a real artist.
You bet Taehyung has felt that a hundred times by now. His paintings being featured so many times in the exhibition really made him look superior and all-mighty, although his behavior did not reflect that at all.
He’s humble, unlike the other seniors.
Clutching your tote bag tighter to your side, you go to the senior’s building with the hope to find your partner.
As you step inside, instead of being greeted by a bunch of fourth years, right at the entrance was Yeseul getting too close with Taehyung.
She was putting her hands all over his chest, obviously making him feel uncomfortable by the look on Taehyung’s face. Why isn’t he pushing her away?
You grit your teeth together, storming your way towards them to rip Yeseul away from him; but she was quick to notice you.
“Oh, hello there, Y/n. Here to see your partner?” she snarks, wrapping her arms around Taehyung’s neck. She also dared to step closer to his body, almost inches away from touching. 
Oh no, she did not just do that.
You drop your bag to the floor, and in an immediate motion, you swing your arm up to her shoulder and shove her away from Taehyung. Her frail body jolts backward, almost losing her balance.
“Stay the fuck away from him.”
Taehyung’s eyes expand as his heart pumps rapidly. 
He did not expect that from you at all. 
“Wow, that’s fucking new!” Yeseul exclaims, “Y/n finally speaks! She speaks, everyone!” She looks around as if people are watching.
No one was watching. There was no one else inside the entrance hall other than the three of you.
“You see,” you were about to retaliate until Taehyung grabs your arm. You look at him for a quick second, ignoring the way his expression tells you to stop. “You see, Yeseul, I don’t waste my time with a pathetic girl like you. Always craving everyone’s attention. Do you think you're the shit? What if I tell you that everything thinks you're just a sad spoiled bitch that got into this school because of daddy, wasting his money by—”
“Y/n!” Taehyung retaliates. 
“Wasting his money by bullying other students instead of focusing on yourself? Just say you’re an attention whore and move on with your embarrassing life—”
“Y/n! Stop, let’s just go.” Taehyung says sharply as he immediately takes your bag from the floor with one hand as the other tightly clasps around your wrist. “Let’s go!” Taehyung yells before Yeseul can even process what you said to her.
But thank God a wave of courage dwelled up inside you to speak your mind and stand up for yourself from Yeseul’s bitchy nature.
Taehyung drags you out of the building, but your eyes never leave hers. “Fuck you.” You enunciate without sound after smiling like a little devil.
Nothing was more satisfying than seeing Yeseul finally speechless.
 It seems like you took out almost all of your energy on Yeseul because you nor Taehyung did not speak until he led you into a secluded alleyway in between two large concrete buildings. 
Unexpectedly, Taehyung uses both hands to hold onto your arms, leaning a bit down so that his eyes are at the same level as yours. 
“Why did you do that, hm?” he asks, scanning your entire face as if trying to figure it out himself. “Y/n?” 
Tilting your head to the side, you once again avoid looking directly at his eyes. You did not notice that you balled your fists beside you while the past image of Yeseul’s hands touching Taehyung comes to play. Your chest caves in and out, speechless. 
Taehyung then places his right hand on top of your head, patting your hair gently. “Talk to me.” 
Grunting, you finally look at him. “I hate her.” 
“I fucking hate her! I hate how she touched you! I hate that she has the fucking audacity to be all up on you! And I hate how you didn’t do anything to stop her!” Quickly, you press your hands against his broad chest and attempt to jolt him backward, but he is strong to stay still. 
“Shh, shh, Y/n,” Taehyung firmly holds your hand, catching your eyes fueled with bitterness. In an attempt to hide a smile, he purses his lips. “I’m… I’m sorry, yeah? I fucked up a ton. But you know what, Y/n?” 
“What?” you say with a sour tone. 
“I’m glad you finally stood up for yourself.” 
It was true. You felt a sense of relief once you’ve finally spoken your mind. Even though you said some horrible things to Yeseul, she deserved it. 
You take a deep sigh, resting your head on the concrete wall behind you. “You weren’t even pushing her away, Taehyung. What was she even doing with you?”
He bites the corner of his bottom lip when you aren't looking. He did not want to assume, but you sounded jealous. 
“Nothing, babe. She just suddenly came up to me.” 
You gawk up at him while a blush forms your cheeks. 
There it was again. Babe. 
Your eyes fly to his lips, then down to his chest, and finally to his pelvic area. Not even noticing that you’re staring way too hard, Taehyung coughs to get attention back. 
“Eyes up here, Y/n,” he speaks with a provoking tone. 
Slowly, Taehyung tauntingly smirks and you instantly feel butterflies in your lower stomach. 
“Uh, um…” you fake a laugh, “I just, I just need my portfolio back.” 
There was a seven-second silence with the two of you just staring at each other. You raise your eyebrows at him, waiting for him to talk. 
“I left it at my dorm—” 
“—You’re impossible, Kim Taehyung!” You gasp, about to walk away again but he was quick to stop you this time. 
“Come to my place, Y/n. Please? Let’s talk about the project there.” He pleads, his mouth almost creating a pout, “I’m serious. I really want to do this with you, Y/n. I don’t want you to walk away again.” 
All of those words from him, and you felt the same way. His hand crawls up your arm, causing little bumps to appear on your soft skin. Caressing your arm tenderly, Taehyung looks a bit sullen. 
“I’m really sorry about yesterday, for throwing you off like that.” 
“It’s okay,” you say genuinely. You have never seen Taehyung so upset like this. It was a strange sight to see, but you were happy that he’s willing to try all of this again. The feeling is mutual. “I’ll… I’ll go to your dorm.” 
That huge grin reappears on his face and it was enough for you to feel relieved and once again, charmed that he is your partner. 
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Following Taehyung's lead to his room, the halls were gloomy and silent, almost as if his dormitory was haunted. “I know what you’re thinking,” Taehyung smirks, looking back at you. “Too quiet?” 
“Yeah.” You giggle. 
“Wait until it’s midnight and you hear people fucking. Walls here are too thin.” 
You do not know how to respond to that as you attempt to stop yourself from blushing too hard. 
Taehyung’s room was apparently at the very end of the hallway and there was still a long way to go. As you trail behind him, you can’t help but stare at his broad shoulders. He was wearing a simple gray tee, and the thin material of the shirt provides enough to see the structure of his upper body. 
He had to be working out. He was tall as well. Whenever you talk to each other, you always have to tilt your head upwards for his entire face to be visible to your vision. 
Taehyung, as if he knows that you’re looking at him, combs a hand through his hair while throwing his head back. He does this a lot as you notice. 
“We’re here!” He exclaims, rummaging through his bag to get his keys. While you wait patiently behind his figure, the door parallel from his room opens. 
It was Jimin. 
“Oh, hey Y/n!” He greets with big eyes, surely not expecting your presence. 
Taehyung whips his head around. “Jimin, hi.” He sends him a certain look which you cannot decipher its meaning. 
“What’s… what’re you guys doing?” He looks down at you and a smirk slowly emerges from his face. You instantly look away. 
“We’re meeting up for the project,” Taehyung says for you as he fumbles with the key to his door. “Obviously.” He quickly adds. 
Jimin hums and leans his body against his door, eyeing you from top to bottom. Even though you were not looking directly at him, he can sense your awkwardness.  
“That’s all?” 
“Oh my God, shut up,” Taehyung chuckles, finally pushing the door open. He sees that you were, once again, hiding your face by looking down on the polished floor. 
Unexpectedly, he lays a firm hand on your lower back and pushes you in his with a slight force. Somehow, that simple action caused butterflies; a fluttering feeling inside your stomach. Your eyes widen as he guides you inside his dorm room. 
Taehyung sends a quick look at Jimin who was smirking at him the whole time. “Literally shut your mouth.” 
“I’m older than you.” 
“At what?” Taehyung snorts, “three months?” 
“Okay, so? I was born three months before you. So respect me.”
He no longer replies and shuts the door behind him. You stiffly stand in the midst of his room, scanning the area around you. His room was nothing but plain. But what shocks you the most are the scattered watercolor paintings scattered all over his wooden floor. 
Nude paintings. 
As if Taehyung was just playing with paint a few hours ago, these drawings were dispersed around the area as if he wanted to show it off. 
You stay silent, bashful. 
“Oh,” he finally speaks as soon as he realizes the situation. Quickly, he moves in front of you, kneels, and starts collecting the mess of papers on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, I forgot to clean these all up—”
“They’re so beautiful,” you insinuate, voice small. 
Taehyung feels a warm feeling inside of him, cursing at himself for even blushing at your compliment. Usually, he would feel proud and confident when people admire his creations, but with you — he turns shy. He continues cleaning the floor, picking up the watercolor papers. “Thank you. I… uh, yeah.” 
“No really, Taehyung,” you shake your head, “Can I see? Please?” 
Turning to you, he gives you a sympathetic smile, diverting his attention away from your twinkling eyes. “They’re not supposed to be seen, Y/n.”
You sit down on his bed as determination takes over you. “Oh please? I’ve never seen anything like yours. Please, Taehyung?” you fake a pout, hoping that he’d give in. He stares at you with his mouth slightly parted, “Please? You’re still my partner after all.” 
He sighs deeply, holding the stack of papers in both hands. He kneels in front of you, sitting on the heels of his feet, and eventually gives it to you. 
Not taking his eyes off of you, he studies your expression. 
With the look on your face, your sparkling eyes, your eyebrows adjoining together, watching the corner of your mouth lifting into a smile, Taehyung watches you in absolute awe. 
“These…” you whisper to him as you can’t seem to take your eyes off of his collection. “These are so good, Taehyung.” 
The paintings were colorful; they seemed messy but you can clearly see the artistic view on them. Though you can clearly see an abundance of women’s butts and boobs and nipples — that was all beside the question. 
“Is this why you asked me to do a nude portrait?” 
Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He was expecting this question, although he still feels jittery. 
“Y/n,” he suddenly comes closer to you, “I’ve been having an interest in creating these types of paintings recently. I mean, a-as you can see here, I’ve been practicing.” Taehyung explains while releasing a quiet giggle. “I just thought it’ll be a good idea to, uh,” he gulps, “to make one… with you.” 
Taehyung tilts his head up at you, but before you could reply, he lays his hands on your knees. A shiver runs down your spine at this, wetting your lips. 
He looks so damn attractive up close. 
“Y/n, I want you to be my muse.” 
Taehyung’s eyes burn in desire, confidence building up in his system as he leans himself closer to you. He mutters the next words underneath his breath, “You’re beautiful, Y/n. So beautiful that I want to display your beauty to the whole fucking campus.”
Your body weakens. As the air between the two of you thickens, the whole world closing around you, you feel Taehyung run his hands up your thigh excruciatingly slow. With his eyes still locked on yours, time just stops and you allow yourself to get lost in his dark eyes. 
“You don’t have to hide, Y/n. You’re such a stunning lady, it’ll be an honor for anyone to have you as their muse. I am the lucky one, Y/n.” 
He speaks to you with such gentleness in his monotone, deep voice. Unintentionally, you bite down on your lower lip. Taehyung exhales a shuddered breath as he watches you. His eyes study your face, the distance between your eyebrows, eyes, he examines all the little things, even your impurities. 
For him, you were flawless. 
“You really do know what to say, huh?” you smile meekly, admiring him and his splendid soul. You feel so loved by him  – appreciated, even. 
“I’ve never been more sure of my words.” 
Taehyung gives you a final smile before standing up. You watch him walk over to his study desk where your portfolio lays. Letting out the breath that you were apparently holding in, you wipe your damp hands on your clothes. 
Giving the portfolio back to your possession, he speaks at the same time: “It’s still a suggestion after all. You can tell me yours if you have one.”
You chuckle at that. Little did he know that your mind was too busy overthinking how things stacked up instead of brainstorming an idea. Since you feel more comfortable with him than before, you tell the truth.
“I have absolutely no idea,” you snicker. 
“Yeah?” he smirks, nodding his head once. “I hate to say this, but this is the only concept I’ve got as well.” Taehyung sits down crossed-legged beside you on the bed, tapping his fingers on his pile of nude portraits. 
“Then I’ve got no choice but to say yes.” 
Taehyung feels his heart thump rapidly in his chest. 
It wasn’t like he was dying to see your body – no. His point was not to be a pervert. 
His point goes deeper than that. Taehyung thinks that this idea suits you and your aura perfectly. You were both dainty and mysterious at the same time, something about you is just so alluring and captivating. The way you look at him with those eyes of yours, you were like a magnet to him. 
Tempting, like he’d imagine the outcome of this painting. 
Taehyung’s left hand reaches out, hesitates and stops for a second, although it continues until his fingers lightly brush against your cheek. You smile, feeling soft from his gentle touch. He lightly tucks a strand of hair to the back of your ear. 
Those pesky butterflies just never go away, do they? 
“Besides, Taehyung, this is still a collaboration,” you abruptly stand up, facing him. A sudden burst of confidence shoots through your body as you hold his jaw in one hand. You giggle in amusement as you notice his eyes expand in shock. 
Leaning down to give him a provocative stare, you smirk, “You’re not the only one who has the say.” 
Watching him prod his tongue against his cheek causes your stomach to do backflips for the hundredth time today. He tempts you with his strong glare, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. 
He swiftly grasps your wrist, making you let go of his jaw. Raising his eyebrows, he replies with a bold tone, “I’m still superior to you, my little freshman.” 
You and Taehyung exchange numbers before you leave. You stand in between the doorframe, saying your goodbyes. 
“I’ll see you tomorrow at your place?” He reminds, his tall and slender figure towering in front of you. 
“Yup,” you say, grasping your portfolio in your arms. “I’ll be sure to text you my address.” 
Before you even have the opportunity to shut the door behind you, finally leaving his room, he refrains you from doing so. 
Your heart rate quickens. 
Turning around, you whisper, “Yeah?” 
He shows off his handsome smile, that same smile he would put on whenever he receives an award onstage for his incredible work. 
“Your art is magnificent.” 
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“He said what?!” Hayoon shrieks as you both walk to the main building. Seoyun wasn’t with the two of you because she was at her own partner’s house, working on the project. 
“He liked my art,” you say quietly, blushing as you reminisce about what happened yesterday. You remember his words, his alluring voice, the gentle yet strong gaze he was giving you, it all felt unreal. “He said it’s quote-unquote magnificent.” 
Hayoon gasps, putting a hand over her agape mouth. You laugh while staring at the pavement, clutching your portfolio tight. 
“What else happened? Did you guys—”
“—Y/n! Good to see you.” Your body jumps when a voice suddenly startles you. Looking up, you see the head professor of the arts district in front of you. She seems amused at your frightened reaction. 
“H-Hello, madam,” you politely smile, clearing your throat. 
The professor also greets Hayoon. 
“I’ve actually been wanting to have a little chat with you, Y/n.” She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “How are you and Kim Taehyung? Doing well together?” 
Hayoon purses her lips, looking away. 
“Um,” you laugh awkwardly, suddenly feeling hot. “We’re… we’re doing good.” 
“Any progress?” She inquires, raising a brow. 
“No, not yet,” you shake your head, “We’re going to meet up later though, finally start on the project.” 
The professor seems so engrossed in Taehyung. It became clearer to you that Taehyung was a bigger deal in this department than you thought. 
Her mouth lifts into a sly smirk, her warm eyes looking straight into yours, “I am looking forward to your collaboration with him, Y/n. You know,” she leans her body on one hip, “I trust my judgment with partnering the two of you together. Based on both of your work, I feel as though you and your senior will create an incredible piece of work. Don’t tell this to anyone…” she suddenly leans in to whisper. 
Your eyes turn to Hayoon, giving her a confused gaze. 
“I’m mostly looking forward to you and Kim Taehyung’s work.” 
And without saying anything further, she says a simple goodbye and walks away. 
She’s anticipating your artwork the most! How awkward can it be if she finds out that your planning to work on a nude fucking painting? 
“I- madam?” You immediately call out to her, spinning around. “You said that we are all free to paint whatever we want, right? As long as it’s a portrait?” 
“Exactly, miss Y/n. No further limitations than that.” 
As you say, madam. 
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The knock on your door startles the living soul out of you. You release a mantra of “fuck’s” in your mind, shaving the last bit of your leg hairs as quickly as you can. 
“Coming!” you shout from your small bathroom, hoping that Taehyung would hear. You angle your right leg better, tip-toeing on the toilet seat. 
After a quick minute, you clean yourself up and get dressed. You did not know how to act since it was the first time a boy came over to your dorm. Puffing out a breath, you psych yourself up. 
Twisting the doorknob open, you greet him. “Hey—!” 
Good fucking luck to me. 
Taehyung looks so good. He shakes away the hair that slightly covers the top of his eyes so that he can get a better look at you. He was wearing a simple white tee and sweatpants, yet you can absolutely see his prominent body through the thin material. Taehyung carries a large white canvas stuck between his arm and waist, a bag over his shoulder. 
He scans your body, eyes raking you up and down. 
The tension between the two of you instantly thickens. 
“Hello, my little freshman.” 
“Don’t call me that.” 
“I’ll call you whatever I want.” He speaks with an authoritarian tone, suddenly sounding serious and sharp as ever. You let him inside your room where you already set up a tarp on the ground. He sees that you have already arranged the living room, clearing the living room from all the unnecessary furniture. 
“So, let’s start?” he voices out without looking at you. He finds your easel and places the canvas on it. 
We’re suddenly rushing everything? 
He sees that you weren’t talking, once again, so he looks at you expectantly with a quirked eyebrow. The expression on his face made you feel small and intimidated. 
“I don’t know where to start,” you barely say through a whisper, fiddling with your clothes. 
His eyes narrow, tipping his head to the side a little bit, “Right.” 
You feel severely embarrassed. 
A good-looking guy in front of you, eating you up with his eyes like you’re a meal. You shuffle your foot against the ground, unable to form any words. 
Suddenly, he strides forward to you. You try to hide the way your body just instantly stiffens, but it is impossible. Your body reacts without your permission, goosebumps appearing when Taehyung places his hand on top of your head. 
He gives your head a couple of pats, stroking your hair right after. Taehyung leans down until his face is almost parallel to yours. His mouth grows into a little smirk. “My bad,” he mutters with a husky tone, “I forgot who I was working with.” 
Your mouth goes dry. What was that supposed to mean? 
Taehyung sits down on the floor, legs crossed. You copy him. 
“First of all,” he leads the conversation, which you thank the heavens for, “I feel responsible for your comfortability, Y/n.” 
Oh God, it’s starting. 
“You have to trust me, okay? I want to keep the professionalism between us when we,” he gulps, “when we start this. And by that I mean when you take your clothes off.” 
He ignores you, “I want this to be somewhat similar to the watercolor paintings you saw yesterday.” 
You muster up the courage to speak, hoping that your voice won’t fail you. “You mean, something contemporary?” 
He smiles, a proud look on his face. “Exactly. The painting won’t show your vagina, of course,” he nonchalantly says while standing up. How can he speak as if this is a completely normal conversation? “But, if you like, we can show a bit of your breasts.” 
“Sure,” you barely formed the word. 
“Great,” he fiddles with his equipment, setting up the scenario. “Take your time, Y/n. We have all the time in the world right now.” 
Taehyung watches you at a distance from his peripheral vision. He sees you taking off your shirt. 
He shakes his head, forcing himself to stay focused. “Do you,” he clears his throat, “do you have anything in mind, color-palette wise?” 
“Neutral colors.” 
After that, you take off your shorts. The only clothing left was your undergarments. 
You feel like you were giving him a striptease. The air kisses your skin as you become more exposed to him. 
You find it unfair; you’re going to get naked and he isn’t. 
“Feeling okay?” He asks, and you just respond with a quick nod of your head. 
“Um, do I take these off too?” you ask, referring to your bra and panties. Even though you already know the answer, you just want to make sure. 
Your heart jumps when you catch a glimpse of him biting his lower lip. Taehyung feels the need to get used to looking at your body because he’s going to do that for the next few hours or so. But he can’t stop staring at you. 
You exhibit breathtaking beauty. 
“Yes,” he answers while he applies a layer of white paint on the canvas. You watch him work his hands up and down, observing all his movements. 
A different aura replaces him all of a sudden. He was doing the bare minimum but he looked so sublime. 
But you stand there, not moving a muscle. You heard him loud and clear, although you can't seem to undress. 
Taehyung chuckles, still painting the canvas, “You want me to help you?” 
“What?” you blurt in shock from his sudden nerve. 
With that, he lays his eyes on you, unwavering. “You want me to undress you?” 
In a quick motion, Taehyung drops his brush and walks to you. You can immediately hear your heart pounding in your ears as he closes the distance between the two of you. “Taehyung…” you murmur, almost whimpering. 
The noise you made undoubtedly excites him even more. 
“Yea?” he says softly, “does my muse need help to get undressed?” 
Your body melts then and there.
Unknowingly, you nod. 
Taehyung watches your pupils dilate as you look up at him. You were driving him wild with just the way you were staring at him. 
“Is it okay to put my hands on you?” 
You blush at that, finding it cute that he asked for permission. “Of course.” 
Taehyung doesn't hesitate to put his big hands on your hips, feeling the material of your lace panties. He hisses, clicking his tongue. “Damn, babe,” he bites his lip again, “I know you’re shy, and I like it that you’re shy...” the pads of his fingertips tap against your skin, teasing you, “But for us to continue with this project, you have to let me see your body. You have to be comfortable with me, m’kay?” 
“But,” you hesitate for a moment, looking anywhere aside his eyes. “You’ll be the first one.” 
Taehyung creases his forehead in confusion, stepping closer until your body touches. “Y/n, you mean that,” he stops the urge to let out even the faintest of groans, “You’ve never done t-this with anyone before?” 
He looks at you with such care, not even a single spot of judgment written on his face. You don't even notice that his hands are crawling up and down your waist, caressing your body so softly until you feel those familiar cold shivers. 
You pry your eyes away, muttering a shy “yes”. 
The shine in Taehyung’s eyes diminishes, replacing it with a darker, more lustful shade. He holds your chin up with brute force, sick of you looking away from him. 
He didn’t expect to feel this way. So prevalent and in control of your own body, he feels a surge of power rush through him as he notices your face flush. “I hope you know you can’t back out now, baby.” 
“Take off your bra,” he states simply with unwavering eye contact. He was looking down at you passing the bridge of his nose, mouth slightly agape. 
He could’ve sworn he heard another whimper. 
Fuck, did that sound drives him crazier.
With his hands still on your waist, you lift your arms and reach behind you, your clammy hands unclasping your bra. 
Taehyung wasn’t apprehensive to stare at you anymore. He’s way past that. Not when you’re looking at him so innocently like that, your pretty eyes trying their best to gaze at him – he doesn’t care anymore. All he wants to do was fucking get this painting done and possibly fuck you. 
You slip the straps off of your body, dropping the garment on the floor. 
He unconsciously bites his lip, your breasts on display for him, like art in a museum. He chuckles when you let out a whine. 
“Why are they hard?” he teases, referring to your erect nipples. 
You did not know if his question was rhetorical or not. He steps away a little so that you can slip off your panties as well – and to have a better look at you. 
Is it normal for people to feel this way? 
Your body shudders from his cold stare, waiting for a signal to remove your underwear. Taehyung steps behind the canvas, eyes still on you. “Go on, I'm waiting baby.” 
That pet-name will be the death of you.
You hook your thumbs inside your garter and swiftly pull your panties down your legs. Lowering your head, you step out from the pool you made on the floor and toss it to the side. 
“Stop looking at me like that,” you murmur, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear. 
“Like what?” 
“You’re basically eye-fucking me.” 
“Don’t you want that?” he grins cockily. His unexpected surge of confidence and the new atmosphere he has created in the room were making you breathless. 
You don’t reply, instead, you ask him what position he wants you to be in. 
“Probably on your hands and knees, but that’ll be too inappropriate.” 
“I’m kidding.” 
You swallow the lump in your throat as he directs you in a position on the floor. You sit back on your heels, arms resting above a wooden desk prop he wanted to include in the portrait. 
“Look at me.” 
The view you give him; your body’s side profile and your big, pure eyes, was enough for his cock to grow hard beneath his sweatpants. He curses, enticed by how beautiful and hot you are. 
Taehyung grabs his paint palette, giving you one final examination before swiftly painting the background on the blank canvas. 
“I can see that you’re holding your breath,” Taehyung says after a minute, “Relax, babe. You’re with me. You don’t have to worry.” 
It’s fucking happening. 
He was actually going to painting you naked. NAKED. Tits and butt out for the whole campus to see.  
You were hoping that once this painting is finished, no one will judge you nor Taehyung. You pray that they’re open-minded enough to accept a fucking nude portrait. 
Suddenly, an itch crawls upon your shoulders, and the urge to scratch it grows closer and closer. You scrunch your nose, waiting for the perfect time to do it. 
When Taehyung was more focused on the canvas, you remove your arm from its original position so that you can scratch your shoulder. 
He didn’t notice — yes! 
“It’s only been five minutes and you’re already itching?” he snorts, “want me to scratch your itches for you so you don’t have to move?” 
You roll your eyes, “That’s so weird.” 
“Whatever, Y/n. We can take five-minute breaks every twenty. What do you think? You won't be sitting there the whole time, I just need to do the background, a rough outline, and a sketch of you and we can take turns painting the rest after that.” 
You exhale a satisfied breath. “Oh thank God.” 
“Just don’t move so much.” 
What Taehyung wanted to capture was the innocence of your gaze despite the raw nudity of the painting. He was eager to deliver that there is always purity, gentleness, and chastity in a world painted in red. 
And you were being the most perfect muse he could ever have. 
Just like the painting: ‘The Girl with a Pearl Earring,’ Johannes Vermeer illustrated a mellow, warm aura surrounding the girl with such beguiling eyes, capturing everyone’s attention. 
Taehyung yearns to have that same effect with you as his model. 
“Y/n,” Taehyung accidentally says too adamantly, your shoulders flinching as an effect. “Keep your eyes on me. Got it?” 
“Why?” You ask, “Isn’t my nudity the focal point here?” you pronounce sarcastically, but your partner did not grasp that. 
“Not really,” he shakes his head, “you’ll see, baby.” 
You click your tongue, “Don’t call me that unless you’re planning to do something else to me, Kim Taehyung.” 
“Mmm,” he hums, running his tongue against his lower lip. He stops painting for a second, resting one hand on his hip. “That’s a bold statement right there.” 
“You’re not denying it?” your eyes enlarge, that small, weak feeling beginning to reappear once more. 
Without a response, he proceeds to his artwork with a smug grin. As he draws your body’s outline, applying shades here and there, depicting how the sun shines against your soft, supple skin, he tries his hardest to be focused. 
Every time he would glance your way, your eyes would immediately lock onto his. He doesn’t know if you do it on purpose, but those innocent eyes, he’s struggling because of them. 
You look at him so sweetly with such a pure look, despite the position you’re in. 
“What do you want, Taehyung?” 
He tilts his head, questioning, “Hm?” 
“What’s with that face? Do you… d-do you want me to do something else? Is there anything I should do to—”
“All I want is your lips against mine right now, Y/n.” 
How are you supposed to respond to that? Your throat goes dry, eyes instantly looking away from his gaze that suddenly turned dark. 
Suddenly, you hear the paintbrush drop down to the floor, footsteps coming closer to you. You hitch your breath when Taehyung crouches down in front of your body, placing two large hands on your skin. 
“Look at me, baby. Look at me the way you do with those pretty eyes.” 
Taehyung fakes a patronizing pout, holding your chin with two fingers. “There we go, you look so fucking beautiful like this. I couldn’t help myself back there, Y/n.”
“What happened to professionalism, Taehyung?” You muster up the courage to say, although with a small tone, you still made your point across. 
“Fuck that.” 
Without wasting a single second, Taehyung holds your head in his hands and presses his lips against yours. Feeling each other’s warmth and presence, you don’t stop him. You sit straight as Taehyung’s right hand slides up and down your back. 
“Kiss me, baby,” he mutters, “kiss me.”
There was nothing to lose, the painting was long forgotten as you press your forehead against his, deepening the kiss. Taehyung smirks from your neediness, your hands trying to find a place to stay. 
He runs a hand through your hair, massaging your scalp softly. You feel butterflies in your stomach when he groans, that deep yet hoarse sound arouses you even more. The hand that was in your scalp tightens, grabbing a bundle of your hair as he roughly pulls it back. 
You let out a moan, not intending to. 
Taehyung uses this opportunity to kiss you harder, sliding his tongue in. You whimper against the kiss, eyebrows furrowing, feeling him explore every single inch of you. 
Taehyung presses his body against yours, making you lay down on the floor with him on top of you. With his legs on either side of your body, he holds you in a trap. 
He feels his primal urge seething through his veins, gazing down at you with a heavy breath. He scans his eyes down your naked body, his tongue aching to lick every part of you, to claim you. 
You blush from his rugged stare, tilting your head to the side. You absolutely did not want him to see how flushed you’ve become. 
He releases a grunt as he places his hands on your hips, slowly going north. He feels the goosebumps caused by his touch, making him smile. “Is it too straightforward to say that your innocence turns me on?” 
You bite your lip, not wanting to speak. Your body already spoke measures and he can see your lust. 
“If you keep staring at me like that,” he leans his head lower until you can feel his breath fanning against your collarbones. He merely closes his eyes, “I might fucking ruin you.” 
“Then do it.” 
Taehyung hears you loud and clear, and he chuckles. Without expecting it at all, he reaches up to wrap his hand around your throat, squeezing gently. Your eyes expand, appalled as you emit a little mewl.  
“Tsk, tsk,” he licks his lips, feeling his underwear tighten beneath his sweatpants, “What is it with these innocent girls, huh? Always acting so naughty even though people barely lay a finger on them.” He watches your breathing getting heavier, your nipples getting harder as the air caresses your sweet skin. “Do you want me to touch you down there?” 
You bite your lip, nodding your head. 
Taehyung coos, “Good girl. But tell me with your words. Let me ask you again, Y/n. Do I have your full consent?” 
“Baby, you don’t know how badly I want this. I’m going to use you, I’m going to control your body as if it’s a toy. Do you want that? I won’t be done here if I don’t see you crying and begging me to stop.” 
“Taehyung,” you whisper, wiggling your hips in need, “yes, I want it. I want you.” 
Not even three seconds after you’ve said yes, Taehyung took the advantage to immediately press his lips against your neck, sucking and biting like an animal. You throw your head back in awe, feeling his warm hands gripping your breasts. 
He groans, giving your neck purple and red marks. “Already a whimpering mess,” he licks the skin below your left ear after noticing that it was a sweet spot of yours. You lift your hands up to wrap around him, but he was quick to put them together in one hand and pin your wrists above your head. 
“If you wanna touch me, you gotta beg,” he raises his brow, “do you wanna be a pathetic little girl and beg?” 
Teasing you, he runs his fingers down the valley of your breasts, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. His eye contact does not waver until his hand is inches above your needy, wet cunt. 
“I love every single part of you, Y/n. The whole campus would be so jealous of me,” he winks at you with a menacing look, trying to lighten the situation up. 
“May I kiss you down here?” He barely says in between a low moan as his hand starts playing with your slick folds. “Please let me,” his eyebrows creases, “let me fucking taste this pussy.” 
Your stomach jumps at his cruel words, biting your lip to stop yourself from letting out an embarrassing moan. With a single nod, he dives in. 
And doesn’t go easy on you at all. 
“Oohh shi—” you squeal, hand flying to grab his hair right when his tongue dances against your sensitive clit. He looks up at you, analyzing your reactions. His wet tongue flicks against your bud, hands firmly holding your hips apart. 
Taehyung ruthlessly licks you like he hasn’t eaten a meal in ages. Truth be told, in his head, he forgot he was dealing with a cute little virgin pussy. He was too focused on his pleasure, too focused on the noises you made.
“Please, oh my God, s-slow down!” you yelp, trying to squeeze your legs shut, but he pries them open. 
He picks his head up for a moment to say, “Do that one more time, or else I’m not gonna let you sit down for days.” 
It took you a second to figure out what he means by that. And when you do – you feel yourself getting deeper into a subspace, something you have never experienced before. You feel ten times lighter, all with the help of Taehyung’s strong stare as if he’s turning into a different person.
A slow smirk dwells on his face. He holds your cheek in one hand, stroking you gently. 
“I love the look in your eyes, baby,” he murmurs, “so mesmerizing.” He distracts you with his words, making you lost in his dark irises. 
It was until he unexpectedly plunges a finger inside your soaking cunt, earning a loud gasp. Your back arched painfully, throwing your head back and Taehyung stopped himself from giggling too loud. 
“There, there,” he shushes, putting his lips against your neck, “You can take it, baby. Hm? It’s just one finger.” 
You hold onto his wrist, pleading at him with round eyes, “Please,” you mewl, “I h-haven’t – mmphh – done anything like this before!” 
“I know, baby, and it’s so fucking fun to torture you like this. Corrupt your innocence like this…” he slowly pumps his digit in and out, your wetness coating his slender finger. “I can’t even explain how good it feels for me.” 
Taehyung might sound arrogant, condescending even. Although he knows that this turns you on as well, he can see the way you were submitting to him. 
He feels your walls clench around him, making him hiss. “So tight, goodness. Gonna stretch that tight fucking cunt so good, so good around my thick cock. Uh-huh, you want that?” 
When he thinks you’re ready, he inserts another finger in. This time, he pumps his fingers in and out at a fast, steady pace. He hits your sweet spots so well, making you feel euphoric. Your eyes roll back, and Taehyung’s dick twitches. 
“That’s right,” he sighs, “stretch this little virgin pussy out for me, mhmm?” 
Taehyung does slight scissoring movements with his fingers then switching to repeated ‘come-hither’ motions. Your moans effortlessly flow out of your mouth, not ever thinking to yourself that you can create those types of sounds. 
“How does that feel baby, hm?” he licks his lip with his tongue, skilled fingers pumping in and out, stroking your g-spot. His ears perk up at the sound of you whimpering after he hits just the right place inside of you. “Oh yeah,” Taehyung chuckles, “that’s my spot. That’s the spot right there.” 
Your legs quiver, feeling a tightness in your lower stomach but you don’t say anything to him. Were you about to cum? Is this how you’re supposed to feel? 
But Taehyung knows. Taehyung can sense everything from you. He keeps his pace steady and is consistent to rub your good spot until your body experiences a gushing wave of bliss. 
Your sweet, hot moans fill his ears and it was enough to drive him crazy, his fingers soaked in your cum. 
“Good job, baby,” he snickers, caressing your stomach, “You came so good, so pretty for me.”
You feel so shy right after, though. Immediately, you raise your arms up to your face to cover your blushing cheeks, squealing. 
“Aww, baby, baby,” he chuckles warmly, “Why are you shy? You just came around my fucking fingers, Y/n. Don’t be embarrassed about that.” Taehyung uses a taunting voice, carefully moving your arms away. 
“You know what will help you get rid of that shyness of yours, huh?” he asks while standing up. Your eyes go wide as you watch his long, slender fingers playing with the waistbands of his sweatpants. 
You shake your head ‘no’ as an answer. 
“Kneel and take my cock out.” 
“But…” you gulp, “I’ve never—”
Taehyung leans down and tugs you by the hair, forcing you to sit up. He growls and drags you to a kneeling position. You wince and yelp from how hard he was grabbing your hair. 
“Did I say you can retaliate, huh? Slut?” Without any warning, he slaps your left cheek. The slap resonated throughout the quiet room, your cheek heating up from the blow. You wince in pain, about to rub your cheek to soothe the skin, but he was quicker to land another harsh slap. 
“You’re crying? Aw, so fucking pathetic. Maybe if you’ll do as I fucking say, I wouldn’t have to ruin your pretty face.” 
Taehyung feels like a different person. He stands tall before you, dripping in pure dominance. He watches your lips forming a pout, your hands finding their place on your thighs. Even with a bruised cheek and watery eyes, you still looked beautiful, and he loved the thought that you’re only like this for him.
“What are you waiting for?” he raises a brow, “fucking suck my dick.” 
Taehyung barely hears the whine that falls off your lips right before you hook your fingers under his waistband. Your face was inches away from the large tent in his sweats. You wonder deep inside your mind how big he was. 
Guess you were going to find out. 
He palms himself above his tight boxers, making his dick twitch from the needed sensation. “You see this cock? You’re gonna put this inside that mouth of yours, right baby?” he leans down, grabs your face in both hands, and says with a gravelly voice, “Suck it good or else I’m gonna use your mouth as my own personal fleshlight, okay? Now get to it.” 
Right after you try to throw your nervousness aside, his cock springs out from his boxers and the leaking red tip hits your face. 
Taehyung couldn’t hold back his groan from the hot sight – his dick, long and hard, right against your pure face. He tries his hardest not to grab his shaft and stroke himself already, feeling impatient, but it’ll all be worth it to see you gagging on his cock. 
With nimble fingers, you take his cock in your hands and stroke him gently, all while examining his face to see if you’re doing a good job. 
“Your hands are so small compared to my dick,” he chuckles arrogantly, stroking your hair away from your face, “Wrap your lips around it. God, do I have to tell you everything?” 
You whine from his degradation but obliged anyway. Taehyung lets out a long, deep grunt when you finally get his erection inside your mouth. At the back of your mind, you worry if you’re doing a good job. But looking at the way he was biting his lower lip, the way he was slightly bucking his hips forward, you thought to yourself that perhaps you’re making him feel good. 
You did not expect Taehyung to act like this at all, so incredibly overpowering, and someone who loves to see you tremble with only his filthy words. 
You try to suck on his cock, attempting to go deeper and take him further inside your mouth, but your gags are stopping you. Saliva drips down the corner of your mouth, eyes closing shut when his tip hits the back of your throat. 
Taehyung groans, eyes rolling back as the sensation of your throat closing around him so tightly makes him rock-solid. With a devilish smile, he pulls his cock out and grabs the shaft, “Fucking slut,” he slaps his wet cock against your cheeks, creating thudding sounds, and rubs the red tip all over your poor mouth. “Is my dick really that big?” 
“Taehyung please,” you whine, feeling the uncomfortable wetness down between your legs. 
“Please what?” he jerks his cock in front of you. “Wanna back out? You don’t want it anymore? That’s okay, you can just fuck yourself and make yourself cum. That’s what you want?” 
“N-No! No—” you quickly grab his thighs, “please, please help me.” 
“Help you?” Taehyung laughs before gripping your hair tightly, forcing you to tilt your head back in a painful manner. “Why? Is this not what you have in mind? Huh?” 
Suddenly, he slaps your face again. “You thought you’re gonna get good, soft sex for your first time? That I’ll go gentle on you?” 
He presses his tip against your mouth, forcing your lips to open. He then pushes his length deep, deep inside you, going past your gag reflex. You grab onto his thighs tighter, your nails digging hard onto his skin as you try your hardest not to gag so much. 
Taehyung holds the back of your head, a smirk creeping up his face all while he fucks your mouth. “Awh, fuck yes,” he moans, eyebrows furrowing together, “You really think just because I was sweet to you these past few days, I’m going to be the same person when I fuck you? Huh?” 
He thrusts his cock deeper, violating your already sore throat. Your eyes start to feel heavy as they close by themselves, causing more tears to drip down your face. “Oh, baby,” Taehyung finally gains the slightest bit of sympathy and pulls out. 
You harshly breathe in and out, your throat not used to be coerced like that. His cock was dripping in your saliva and you can’t seem to get your eyes off of it.
Taehyung promptly kneels in front of you and pushes you until you are laying back down. You shriek as he wraps his arms around your body and flips you around. The hard floor almost bruises your knees, but you didn’t mind because he quickly lays himself on top of you. 
He angles his head close to you until his lips are barely hovering on top of the shell of your ear. “Your pussy’s dripping down your thighs, baby.” You release a moan right after he bites your ear, your stomach doing backflips. “I want you to take my dick like a good girl, okay? And if it hurts too much, just say stop, and I’ll stop.” 
You can fucking feel his tip throbbing against your core. He teases your wet hole with his tip, precum leaking off of it. Your mind was clouded in desire, and all you can think about was how it feels to have cock deep in your guts. 
A string of curses falls off of both of your lips, his tip pushing in and it immediately stretches your walls out wide. You buck your ass up for him, and that action made him slap your asscheek. 
“Good girl,” he chuckles, “makin’ my job easier, huh?” 
He grabs onto your hips and you feel that painful stretch, whimpering and moaning out loud. “Tae, fuck,” you grunt, “you’re so fucking big.” 
Almost halfway in, he pulls out again, only to put his dick back in deeper. You throw your head back, mouth agape, completely speechless. Thanks to your sopping wet cunt, it relieved some of the pain.
He puts his right hand underneath you, reaching to grab your neck. His hair tickles your ear as he thrusts at a steady pace. His low grunts and whimpers can be heard, “Shit, Y/n. Only if you can see how wet you got my cock right now – fuck. This tight pussy fucking drips, baby. Mhmm, yeah, take that dick.” 
The way he talks dirty to you got you clenching around him. He was utterly different from the Taehyung you’ve first talked to. His hands grip your neck tighter as he goes in deeper, deeper, deeper than you’ve ever thought he can. 
“Holy fuck!” you clench your toes, “Taehyung, you’re so d-deep! I can’t…” you cry, body quivering as he ignores your cries, fucking you harder now.
“What? What is it, baby?” his balls slap against your clit, continuous lewd clapping sounds fill the area. You can feel him so deep inside of you that it feels unreal. You can feel the pain mixed together with pleasure, creating a weird yet a feeling so fucking good you don’t want him to stop. “I know you can take it harder than this. This little pussy can take it rougher, I know it. C’mon baby, be a good girl for me.” 
Taehyung stops for a second to flip you around again, your back pressed against the floor. Your mouth dries from the sight of him: his neck and forehead damp in sweat, lips plump from all the lip bites, eyes seeming so lustful as he looks at you with an animalistic gaze. 
A slow smirk reappears on his face, “God, you’re beautiful.” 
Then and there, he plunges his cock back in. “Ohhh there we go,” he sighs, “there we fucking go.” He had the audacity to laugh, giggling from the way your body was quivering. 
Taehyung lifts both of your legs up, placing them over his shoulders. The new position made you gasp, eyes wide, and his cock hit just the spot inside of you. Taehyung bites his lip, closing his eyes in pure pleasure. “Oh just like that!” you pant, hands finally having something to grab onto as your nails scratch Taehyung’s back. “Please don’t stop, Taehyung!” 
He puts his head at the crook of your neck, his lips attaching to your dewy skin to lick the sweat off of it. He was making you feel so fucking dirty, turning you into a completely different person. 
“You feel that, baby?” Taehyung asks, “feel how I’m burying my dick so deep inside your cunt? Nudging your fucking cervix with the head of my dick like this? Ohh, fuck yes,” he grins, seeing your eyes water once again, “No one will ever fuck you as good as my dick, Y/n. Fucking remember that.” 
Your body jerks back and forth from how hard he was thrusting into you, his hips colliding with yours with vigor. You have never felt so intimate with a person before, and this exceeded your expectations. Taehyung holds onto your breast, groping it hard before giving it a little slap. With each hard thrust, your moans simultaneously fall off your lips.
“Please, please, please,” you beg pathetically, “I think I’m going to cum.” 
“You are? Aw,” he fucks you harder, putting you faster to your climax, “My little virgin slut wanna cum on a dick for the first time?” How he can talk so straightforward like that without stuttering, despite the overwhelming euphoria he was feeling, was impressive. A knot inside your tummy grows bigger, feeling it snap anytime soon. “Cum all over me, baby girl. Make me proud and cum. Mhmm, that’s it, oh God baby you just got tighter.” 
You moan with each hard and deep thrust, your hair sticking to your forehead and neck, hands digging deeper into his skin. One final hit on your g-spot, you cum all over his cock. 
Taehyung praises you, watching your whole body shiver as he feels your cum spilling onto himself. He holds your face and presses his lips against yours, drinking all your whimpers. He smirks, finding you endearing how you struggle to kiss him back. 
“I’m gonna cum inside of you baby,” he rasps, “gonna breed you so good with my hot cum, you’re gonna take all of it inside that pussy.” His thrusts turn sloppy and it slowly loses its original tempo, trying to catch his own high. Just the thought of his cum spilling out of your pussy, white sticky liquid leaking down to your asshole was all it took for him to orgasm. 
He pummels his cock deep as hot ropes of cum spurts inside of you, filling your fresh womb. He grinds his hips hard, hands on either side of your head. 
“Oh my fucking God,” he says after a while of the two of you just laying there. He looks at your fucked-out face, giggling, “You were so good for me.” 
Taehyung had literally drained your energy and you lay there like a lone piece of meat. 
“Y-You’re,” you barely whisper to him, “you’re insane.” 
He chuckles, “I know right.” 
He sits up from the floor and analyzes your body. Your chest was still heaving up and down. As he drags his eyes down south, he notices your knees were bruised. “Aw,” he pouts, placing his hand on your knee and rubs it. “We should’ve done this on the couch, huh?” 
You roll your eyes, “I hate you so much.” 
“But did you like the sex?” 
You hate how you blushed at his question. A sneaky smile appears on your face, and that satisfies his inquiry. 
“Let me get you dressed up, baby. Let’s continue this fucking painting tomorrow or something.” 
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It seems like ages since you’ve been inside the lecture hall. The last time was when the professor announced partners for this project, and here you are, with Taehyung, all freshmen and seniors waiting for the announcement. 
Was the exhibition really a big deal? Some might ask. 
For others, not really. 
But for you, it may sound cliche, but it’s your dream. 
Although then again, the whole campus would see your naked body from you and Taehyung’s painting. 
Adjusting your posture on your seat, you release a ragged breath. Taehyung glances from beside you and places his right hand on your knee. He gives you a simple smile to reassure your nerves. 
“What does it feel to get your art displayed at the exhibition?” you ask him in pure curiosity. He must feel incredibly proud of himself, right? 
“Happy,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders, “and surprised. Look, Y/n. I don’t always assume that I’ll have the highest score. There are plenty of talented artists around here, there’s always competition.” 
“Who do you think is our biggest competition here?” 
Taehyung doesn’t answer you immediately, for he takes his time to scan around the area. The room was already filled with students, familiar faces. He chuckles, quirking a brow at you as he plays with his lower lip at the same time.
“Do you really wanna know?” 
You nod slowly as confusion settles in. 
“Aside from my friend, Jeon Jungkook, I think Yeseul has a chance at winning.” 
You feel a sour sensation in your stomach right after you hear her name being pronounced. You sink deeper into your chair, huffing, “And why’s that?” 
“She’s in my batch, babe, and she often gets the highest scores because portraits are her forte. That’s her strong pursuit.” 
Your eyes glance to where Yeseul was sitting, always at the front row, of course. She had her legs crossed, patiently waiting for the professor just like everyone around you. 
“If she wins, I’ll—”
As if on cue, the door bursts open and the professor quickly walks in with her assistant. Her assistant holds a canvas, showing only the back part so that it’ll be a surprise to all of you. 
Taehyung snakes his hand over to grab yours, intertwining them in his bigger one. 
“Great to see all of you here again,” she stands behind the podium, “Partnering all of you is a first in our department, and truth be told, I am astounded as to see the wonderful portraits all of you have given me. I appreciate the time and effort since I know that this type of approach is new to everyone.” 
“Can she just go straight to the point?” Taehyung whispers to you, making you giggle. 
“The painting I have here,” the professor’s assistant continues, “has reached the highest score and will be displayed in the Fine Arts exhibition building.” 
You look at Taehyung, who had such a strong gaze at the professors. His eyes were drawn into slits, biting the inside of his cheek. He seems so focused, eyes glued to the painting. 
After the professor’s cue:
1…” the canvas flips around. 
“Lee Yeseul and—”
“—Oh my fucking god,” Taehyung gasps, his mouth forms a wide, surprised grin. 
You feel as if a large boulder begins to weigh your entire body down. Your heartbeat starts to beat rapidly. Your shoulders droop down, tilting your head low. 
You hate to admit it, but you were disappointed. The most down you’ve felt in a long time. 
Watching Yeseul and her partner stand up to bow to the whole class feels as if your heart was a pincushion, being stabbed with tiny little spears. 
Awfully enough, you admit to yourself that their painting is exquisite. Figuring that she made her partner her muse, Taehyung’s words about her totally made sense now. 
“Well,” Taehyung chuckles, “better luck next time, I guess.” He takes the situation lightly, grabbing the straps of his bag, ready to leave. 
Until he looks at you. 
Good thing that the both of you are seated at the very back of the lecture hall and no one can see the way Taehyung tilts your head, resting his hand on your cheek. “Hey,” he softly mutters, “I’m proud of you, okay? So fucking proud.” 
You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth after catching a glance of Yeseul’s dirty smile towards you. 
“You’re still my little winner, m’kay?” he pats your head, “Remember that our efforts still matter, Y/n. Wait until I see that we got second fucking place.” Taehyung winks at you, once again trying to ease your tension. 
Once the students start to crowd the exit door, you and Taehyung stand up to follow them. 
Yeseul is talking to the professor, probably about the exhibition, when Taehyung pulls you closer to him. He leads you to the exit until you decide to turn your head around. 
“Yeseul?” you immediately call out to her without any second thinking, and she raises her eyebrows at you. 
Taehyung snakes his arm around your waist. 
“Congrats,” you smile as you keep up with Taehyung’s footsteps. 
That takes Yeseul by surprise. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. Her mind goes blank. 
“T-Thanks, I guess.” She replies.
Taeyung laughs loudly once at the hallways, “Don’t tell me that’s fucking sincere.” 
“Definitely not sincere. Not sincere at all.” 
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Fast forward to three weeks, Taehyung had already graduated college, and it was the first day of vacation. 
After the whole portraiture project, it was finals season, and for you, that means cutting every social activity and focus on studying and paintings with deadlines. 
But Taehyung just knows how to get you hooked. He promised that he’d treat you to a date after all the events are done. He invited you to a classic dinner date, to which you appreciated him when he declined your offer to split the bill.
He’s a total gentleman, that’s one word to describe him. But as soon as the four walls of his dorm engross the two of you, pushing you against the nearest wall, that ‘gentleman’ title of him goes straight to the trash. 
Taehyung pins your wrists above your head, his mouth leaving wet trails of kisses down from your lips and to your neck. “Remember the last time we did this, baby girl?” he chuckles, whispering close to your ear, “You became my little plaything.” 
You scan the room as you think of something witty to reply. While his other hand crawls down south near your core, your eyes land on a spot above his study desk. 
The portrait. 
He displayed your nude portrait?! 
Taehyung notices your silence and follows the direction of where you were staring. He looks behind him, then back to you with a smirk. “Ah, yes. I seem to have forgotten to tell you.”
“You’re a little devil.” Your face heats up as you look at your own body unclothed. “I think it’s great that the whole campus doesn’t have to see our painting.” 
“Agreed. And now, your body is for my eyes only. You’re my art, displayed in my own little world.” 
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Tysm for reading! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. 
If you enjoyed reading this fic, I would really appreciate reading your thoughts and reactions by commenting or sending an ask! Those type of things make me rlly rlly happy and they’re fun to read! 
Remember to hydrate ;)
2K notes · View notes
snackhobi · 8 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.
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.
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.
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—”
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—”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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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ladyartemesia · 10 months ago
All I Want For Christmas is You
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Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader
Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...
Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut
Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers
Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi
Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •
To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.
To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 
To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 
To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 
Please Picture This Taehyung:
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“No. Absolutely not.”
“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”
“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”
Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 
“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”
The man in question shifted uncomfortably.
“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”
“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”
Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 
Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.
“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”
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“He did WHAT?!”
Your mother winced. 
“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”
“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”
Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 
“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”
Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 
“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”
The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 
“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 
“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”
Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 
You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 
For now.
“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 
For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 
“Kim Taehyung.”
You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 
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“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”
The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 
“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”
“I could pay you more.”
“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”
“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”
“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”
If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.
“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”
“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”
Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.
“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”
Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 
“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 
“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”
The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 
However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 
Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 
Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 
In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  
Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 
The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 
“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 
He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 
“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”
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Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 
He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 
That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 
In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 
But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 
A woman. 
Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 
Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 
Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 
Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 
His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 
“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”
And just like that the brat was back. 
Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 
“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 
Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 
“Of course not,” he chuckled.
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The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 
Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 
You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 
“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”
“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 
“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”
“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”
Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 
“Okay... What about Kang?” 
“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 
“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”
“She was about to grab your ass.”
Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.
“She’s eighty-five!”
“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”
“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 
“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”
Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 
“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 
You shrugged. 
“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”
“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”
The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 
Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 
“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”
“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”
“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”
Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 
“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 
“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 
A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 
“I can think of several women who might disagree.”
He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 
“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”
“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 
“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”
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It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 
It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 
The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 
“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 
“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”
Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 
It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 
“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”
Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 
Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 
“It would be my pleasure.”
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“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 
An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 
“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 
Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 
“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”
“You want me to what?!” 
“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 
Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 
1 New Message from: Jungkook
Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 
Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 
You picked up on the fourth ring. 
“Where are you?”
“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”
“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”
“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”
“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”
The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 
“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”
He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 
“Are you alone?”
You snorted. 
“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”
Taehyung saw red. 
“I’m coming over.”
There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 
“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”
“With who?!”
“With myself, you idiot!”
“Prove it!”
“Fine! I will!”
The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 
1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 
He almost choked on his tongue. 
You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  
At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…
A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 
You were exquisite. 
A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 
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Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 
1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 
I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 
Your head tilted in confusion. 
There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-
Oh NO.
You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 
… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 
Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 
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“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”
Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 
“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”
“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”
“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 
“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”
Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 
“The Park Angel?” 
“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”
“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 
“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”
As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 
“This is a flaming disaster.”
“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”
“Which one was that?!” 
Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 
“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”
“She has. Twice.”
“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”
“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”
“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”
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After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 
By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).
You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 
Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 
Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 
Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 
“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”
Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 
Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-
He peeked again.
I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 
“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 
The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.
You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 
The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 
For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...
Taehyung was laughing. 
You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 
But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 
Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 
“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 
Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...
“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 
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Disaster struck at dinner. 
Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 
The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—
Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 
Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 
“I-I need—” 
It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 
“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 
“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 
“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”
“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 
At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 
You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 
“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”
Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 
“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”
The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 
“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”
You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.
“Why won’t this—”
His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 
“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 
You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 
There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 
“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”
He blinked. Twice. 
“I’m sorry—What did you just—”
“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”
He gulped. 
His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.
This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—
Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 
(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 
“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 
You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 
His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 
Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 
“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 
Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 
You were so warm.
So soft...
“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 
His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 
“Hold on to me.”  
You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.
If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 
You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 
Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...
“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 
He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 
“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”
You drew in a final steadying breath. 
“Do it.”
He nodded. 
“One… Two… Three—”
Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 
Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 
The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 
And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 
It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—
“... Is… everything alright here?”
You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 
Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 
He gulped again. 
“I can explain.” 
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It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 
Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 
Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 
Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 
Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 
His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 
Just like you.
He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 
… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 
Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 
The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 
1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 
I made it home safely. 
Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 
To: Park Gremlin
I require proof… like last time. 
He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 
You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 
And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-
The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 
His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-
And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.
At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 
same mirror.
Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 
The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 
He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 
 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”
Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 
1 New Message from: Kim Grinch
Green is my favorite color. 
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Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 
Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 
“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”
Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 
“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”
Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 
“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”
Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 
He winced a bit at that last one. 
“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”
Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 
“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”
“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 
Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 
“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”
Taehyung sighed heavily. 
“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”
“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 
“NO! Mother! Oh my—”
“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”
Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 
“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”
Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 
“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 
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“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 
He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 
Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 
You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 
Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 
Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 
Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 
“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 
Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.
“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 
“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”
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The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 
For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 
Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 
Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 
It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…
“I never thought I’d see you here.”
A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 
“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”
The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 
“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”
“I avoided them.”
I avoided you. 
Milo nodded. 
“I—I figured.” 
He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 
“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”
“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”
“Excuse me.” 
You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 
“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 
You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 
“No—please if you just give me a minute—”
“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
Milo’s eyes narrowed. 
“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”
Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 
“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”
Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 
“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 
After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 
“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”
Taehyung laughed. 
“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 
You grinned. 
“I’d forgotten about that.”
“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 
(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 
“I wish I could forget about Milo.”
“... Are you still in love with him?” 
The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 
“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”
Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 
“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”
You cleared your throat. 
“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”
Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 
“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”
Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 
“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”
Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 
“I should kill him.”
You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 
“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”
“He has good instincts.”
“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”
“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”
It would be so easy to care for you. 
“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”
You nodded. 
“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”
The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 
“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”
“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”
“... Like you?” 
The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 
Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 
“What’s going on, guys?”
You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 
Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 
“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”
Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 
“Where is he?”
“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 
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The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 
The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 
Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 
His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 
“You look like a vampire.”
Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 
You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 
If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 
Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 
“I think I’m offended.”
“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”
Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 
“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”
You shrugged playfully. 
“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”
A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 
This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 
Lord have mercy. 
“Of course not,” he coughed. 
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“You’re what?!”
You rolled your eyes.
Tonight had been going rather well. 
The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...
Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 
“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”
“Does your brother know about this?!”
“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 
“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”
“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”
You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 
“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”
“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”
Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 
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“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”
Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”
“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”
His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 
“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”
Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 
“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 
Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 
After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.
Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 
Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 
Then it was your turn. 
“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”
“Ten thousand.”
Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 
Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 
“Eleven thousand.”
“Twelve thousand.”
“Sixteen thousand dollars.”
“Seventeen thousand.”
Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 
“Twenty thousand.”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“Thirty thousand!”
At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 
Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 
“Forty thousand.”
Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 
You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 
Milo was still bidding. 
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
Not her. 
“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.
She’s mine. 
Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 
“One hundred thousand dollars!” 
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The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 
Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 
The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 
And hope. 
Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 
His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 
You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—
Yet you never dared hope for it. 
However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 
For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 
Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…
But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 
It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 
He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 
The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 
“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 
Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”
“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“Do you want to see?” 
Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 
You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—
Then he nodded...
And you both were lost. 
Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 
Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 
“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 
He bit back a moan. 
“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 
You nodded. 
“Kiss it better.”
Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 
This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 
He knew he shouldn’t—
but he could never deny you. 
“Of course.”
You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 
It was for you. 
He wanted you. 
Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 
Touch me… please. 
Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 
Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 
“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 
Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.
Sweet merciful heavens. 
Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 
You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 
The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 
Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—
He was marking you. 
And you wanted it. 
Oh how you wanted it. 
Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.
“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 
You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 
“Speak up.”  
“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 
“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”
Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—
“Madame. We’ve arrived.”
The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 
Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 
Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 
Did we just...
You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 
1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈
I need to know you made it safely to your room. 
You grinned. 
Greedy boy. 
Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 
1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅
Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.
Taehyung growled in frustration. 
She would be a tease. 
To: Angel 🤬🥵😅
I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 
He shook his head. 
I have officially gone insane. 
The phone buzzed again. 
1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅
Well… We can’t have that can we… 
Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 
Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 
The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 
He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.
To: Angel 🤬🥵😅
That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel
The screen lit up again almost immediately. 
1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅
Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...
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Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.
“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”
Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 
“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”
“I need to talk to him now.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”
Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 
“I know he’s up there.”
Jungkook grinned. 
“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”
“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 
Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 
“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”
“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”
The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 
A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 
“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”
“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”
Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 
He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 
“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”
“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”
Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 
“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”
“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”
Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 
“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”
“Oh… Well.”
Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 
“He has to come down eventually.”
“One would think.”
The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 
Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 
“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”
“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”
Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 
“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”
Jimin stopped struggling. 
Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 
“He’s gone, sir.”
“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”
“... However?”
“I had to give him your spa passes.”
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“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”
Taehyung rolled his eyes. 
“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”
“It’s complimentary, sir.”
The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 
Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 
“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”
Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 
“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 
Jungkook bit his lip.
“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”
The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 
Both men winced. 
“I think that was your grandmother’s.”
Taehyung sighed. 
“I admit there have been… some developments.”
Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 
“... Such as?”
Taehyung gulped. 
“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”
“There may have been? Are you not sure?”
Taehyung colored guiltily. 
“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”
“Absolutely not.”
Jungkook grinned. 
“That’s what I thought.”
Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 
“Things have… escalated a bit.”
“Escalated how?”
I licked her tit in the back of a limo.
It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 
“That’s… shocking.”
“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 
A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.
“So what are you going to do, sir?”
Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 
“I honestly have no idea.”
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Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  
Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 
Your dress tonight was deadly. 
It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 
Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 
Oh help. 
Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 
So he didn’t say anything at all. 
Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—
And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 
“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”
The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 
Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 
“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”
“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”
Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 
She is definitely trying to kill me. 
“Should I be worried?”
Now it was your turn to grin. 
“I guess we’ll find out.”
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The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 
But it was well worth the price of admission.
Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 
It was like stepping into a fairytale. 
Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 
You were breathtaking.  
“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”
The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 
“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”
Your eyes widened. 
Taehyung shrugged. 
“I don’t really talk about it much.” 
The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 
“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”
“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”
“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”
You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 
The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 
“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”
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Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 
Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 
All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...
Until she showed up. 
“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”
Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 
“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”
“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”
Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 
Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.
“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”
Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 
“Yes. Of course. This is—”
“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”
“His date,” you deadpanned. 
“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”
“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”
Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 
“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”
Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 
Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 
“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”
Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 
“Some other time perhaps.” 
Aubrey pouted prettily. 
“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”
Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 
“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”
“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”
“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 
“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 
“Aubrey... Listen I—”
She cut him off with a finger to his lips.
“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”
He grinned. 
The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.
“What a shame.”
Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 
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“You know what I don’t understand?”
You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 
“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”
The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 
Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.
“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”
Oh he’s good. 
You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 
“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”
Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 
“Couldn’t be me.”
You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 
You tilted your head speculatively. 
Surely there was no need to brush away good company...
After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 
“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”
Yoongi held out his hand. 
“I’d be delighted.”
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Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  
Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you
—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 
It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 
Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 
Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 
“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”
Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 
“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”
“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”
You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine
“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 
Oh boy. 
Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 
You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 
This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 
You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 
Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 
You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 
Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 
“Are you alright?”
His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 
You glared. 
“Just fine, thank you.”
A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  
On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”
You nodded sharply. 
Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 
Yet you made no move to stop him. 
You should have. 
You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—
But you didn’t. 
So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 
You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 
“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).
“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.
You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 
However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head
“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 
Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 
You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 
Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 
“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”
Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 
Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.
It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 
“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 
At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 
“Ms. Park, are you well?”
Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 
“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”
“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”
Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.
Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 
There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 
“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 
Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 
When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—
just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 
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Emotions were a funny thing. 
They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 
And occasionally eroded your common sense. 
Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 
His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 
His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 
His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 
It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 
I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!
Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 
You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 
But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 
You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 
He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...
But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 
Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 
Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 
And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—
Emotion became action.
“Mind if I cut in?”
It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 
“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”
“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”
Your mouth dropped open. 
“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”
Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”
Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 
“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”
The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 
“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”
“I did!”
“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”
“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”
“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”
“You didn’t come after me!”
“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”
“Really? Well what else did she grab?”
Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 
People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 
Well that’s great. 
Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.
“What are you doing?”
“Continuing this discussion in private.”
“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 
“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”
Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 
The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 
After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 
You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 
On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.
The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 
Reflection suite indeed. 
The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.
“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”
“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”
“Then why did you take us here?”
“Because you were shouting—”
“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”
Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 
He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 
But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 
He had to kiss you then. 
You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 
The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 
Everything was him. 
Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 
His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—
Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 
“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”
Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.
Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 
But not today. 
The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.
“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.
“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 
“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 
He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.
It was so so good. 
“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”
If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 
But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 
“Yes!” you sobbed.
The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.
Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 
“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”
His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 
“You’ve been saying that for years.” 
“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 
Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.
“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 
“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 
Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.
“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”
His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 
“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”
The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 
After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 
“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 
Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”
The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 
“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.
“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”
You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.
“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 
You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.
“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 
Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 
You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 
"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”
Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 
"Please—" you whispered.
"Please who?" 
Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 
"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 
He grinned. 
“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”
Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 
Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 
Underneath a giant mirror. 
The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-
And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 
It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 
Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 
Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 
“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”
The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 
The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—
You shattered. 
And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 
Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 
The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 
Then he was kissing you again. 
It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.
You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 
Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 
“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.
You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 
He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 
It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.
“Of course,” you muttered. 
The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.
“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”
“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 
“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 
After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 
“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 
You gasped against him and he smiled. 
“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”
You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 
“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 
His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 
“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”
Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 
The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 
Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 
After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 
“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”
His praise was addictive. 
You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 
It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 
Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—
Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 
Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.
“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 
The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 
“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”
You did. 
You wanted it so so bad. 
Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 
“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”
“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”
He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 
Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 
There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 
Then your world caught fire. 
Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 
Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—
Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 
The feel of him was indescribable. 
You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 
He was bloomin’ magnificent. 
Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 
“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”
Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.
He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 
You were his. 
And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 
Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.
He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—
This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 
And now… he couldn’t look away. 
The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.
Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 
“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”
Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 
“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.
“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 
The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 
Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 
Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 
He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   
“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 
Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 
“Tae! Ah-ahh!”
The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—
“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”
Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.
And then you flew apart. 
Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 
“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”
“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 
“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”
“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 
“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 
Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 
“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 
The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.
“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 
His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 
"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”
The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 
He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 
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The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  
His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—
The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 
“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”
Then he frowned. 
“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”
Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 
Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—
And insanely gorgeous. 
Taehyung groaned. 
Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 
To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.
Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 
One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 
“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”
“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”
“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”
“I’ll kill you.”
“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 
“Why should I wait?!”
“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”
“The situation is just not that simple.” 
“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”
“Admittedly not my finest hour.”
“So you tell me right now—”
“But you don’t understand it’s—”
“—Why the hell would I wait?!”
For a moment there was absolute silence. 
Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 
Jimin’s mouth fell open. 
Taehyung groaned again. 
“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”
You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.
“Are you really in love with me?”
“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 
“That’s not the same thing!”
“It is for me!”
A radiant smile lit up your face. 
“I’m in love with you too.”
Taehyung’s expression softened. 
“Angel I—”
Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.
“Oh! No no no—Come on!”
He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 
“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 
Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 
“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”
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Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 
This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 
If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.
I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.
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fantasybangtan · 9 months ago
something to hold on to (myg)
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❦ word count. 17.7k ❦ genre. parent fic, fluff, angst, a bit of boob action ❦ warnings. illness, mention of hospitalisation, mention of minor character death, yoongi is kind of a dick sometimes, accidental(?) flashing ❦ summary. it’s not that you don’t like your job. on the contrary, reading bedtime stories to a certified little princess is something you still can’t believe you get paid to do. it’s just that between all the school runs, snow days and secret second hot chocolates before bed, you may fallen a little too hard for those dimpled cheeks and gummy smiles.... worse still, you’ve fallen for her father too.  ❦ a/n. merry christmas everyone!! this fic is a collaboration with the wonderful @underthejoon​ @kpopfanfictrash​ @suga-kookiemonster​ @junghelioseok​ @bendthekneetobangtan​ @lamourche​ and @hobidreams​. it’s late, lame and cheesy (and probably under-edited) but I like it that way. I hope you’re all having a fantastic holiday, wherever you may be <3 
“...Can we talk?”
For the first time since blustering in through the front door, Yoongi actually stops to spare you a glance.
You’re standing in the entryway in a pair of high waisted jeans and a peach coloured blouse, hands clasped behind your back and a nervous expression on your face. If he notices your outfit is new, he doesn’t pass comment on it. He doesn’t mention the fact that you’re wearing makeup today either, nor that you seem to have taken a little more time with your hair than usual. Not that you’d expected him to. Your employer isn’t well known for giving compliments, much less understanding when a woman is trying to impress him. Yoongi probably wouldn’t recognise flirting if it hit him in the face with a brick. 
His face is impassive as ever when he drops his keys into the bowl with a shrug. “Sure. There’s actually something I wanted to discuss with you too.”
You nod, fiddling anxiously with his hands as he slips off the snow-smattered trench coat to reveal the suit jacket beneath. He looks tired this evening; more so than usual if the dark bags under his eyes are anything to go by. Even on his days off Yoongi works like a tank, often letting himself get so wrapped up in getting everything done he forgets to eat meals. It’s a coping strategy, of course - one that always tends to get a little out of hand when this time of year rolls around. 
Yoongi turns back to you, loosening the knot of his tie with a ringed finger. He raises his eyebrows.
You follow him through into the heart of the penthouse: a masterpiece of white granite and gold strip lights. The room is utterly spotless save for the mug of freshly-brewed tea that sits waiting on the island, steam spiralling upwards towards the vaulted ceiling. 
“Here,” you say, nudging it towards him. It’s a comfortable ritual between you at this point. Yoongi needs a hit of caffeine if he’s going to make it to dinner without taking his work stress out on whoever’s unfortunate enough to be in the room with him, but following a series of chest pains a few months ago, his doctor put a strict ban on drinking coffee past 7pm. Replacing the habit with a cup of white tea in the evening was your compromise. 
Yoongi takes it with a small nod of gratitude, lowering himself onto the bar stool. His eyes flutter closed for a moment when he takes a sip, and your chest feels warm inside when the tension visibly starts to drain from his shoulders. The man is always so tightly wound. It’s really no wonder he suffers from back pain, what with all the stress he carries around with him. You’ve been trying to convince him to see an osteopath, but Yoongi insists there’s only so much ‘voodoo medicine’ he can bring himself to splash out on per month, and the December quota was already filled by the VapoRub you made him buy for his blocked sinuses. 
He places the mug down with a quiet sigh. 
“How was she today?”
You snap out of your reverie, meeting his expectant gaze. 
“She was wonderful,” you say honestly. “Coach said he’s really proud of how hard she’s been practicing. Her toe double toe loop has come on leaps and bounds these past few weeks.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows questioningly.
“The jumpy spinny thing,” you clarify.
“Ahh. So that’s what it’s called.”
A fond smile tugs at your lips. Though Yoongi never misses an opportunity to support his daughter on the ice, the ins-and-outs of the sport are often lost on him. Surprisingly, he’s far more adept at the hair and costume side of things than he is at giving his little girl feedback on her actual performances. Ever since the day her first ever coach had pulled him aside to tell him Dee had ‘a god given gift’ that needed to be nurtured, he’s much preferred to leave such things to the professionals. 
“So.” Yoongi laces his fingers atop the table. Though you remain standing, you can’t help but feel that you’ve entered in on one of his business meetings. He looks you up and down. “Do you want to go first or shall I?”
“Oh -” All at once the nerves return full-force, fluttering away in your stomach like a flock of migrating birds. You instinctively drop your gaze to the floor when you feel your neck heating up. “Y-you can start.”
Unsurprisingly, Yoongi doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid at your odd behaviour, and you wonder how on earth Mina thought you could do this. You wonder how you -believed- her. Holding a conversation with your employer without taking offense to his social tactlessness was hard enough, especially before you understood Yoongi’s deadpan honesty is something he genuinely doesn’t know how to reign in. But admitting you have feelings for him? 
That was a whole other kettle of fish.
“I got a call from Dee’s grandmother today,” he says, drawing your attention back to him once again.
You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Her grandpa’s been taken into hospital with a shattered hip.”
Your eyes go wide. “Oh my god, is he alright?!”
Yoongi waves off your concern, cringing slightly at the shrillness of your tone. “He’s totally fine. He underwent surgery last night and he’s stable,” he eyes you across the island. “...It does mean they won’t be able to have Dee for the run-up to Christmas though.”
As your panic ebbs, you think you catch a glimpse of something softer beneath Yoongi’s default unmoved expression. He’s not only tired, you realise, but exhausted, worn thin by the constant pressure he keeps himself under. It takes everything in you not to close the space between you and wrap your arms around him. You know he’ll only burn himself out if he carries on like this, and the thought makes your heart ache. 
“I know it’s a big ask,” he continues with a weary exhale, scrubbing a hand down his face, “but it’s too late to cancel on this work trip. Flights to Berlin are fully booked up until late January, and the company we’re doing business with has made it abundantly clear they plan to proceed with or without our input. I’d pay you overtime of course. Whatever works best for you. I just need someone to sit here for a few days and make sure my daughter doesn’t burn the apartment down while I’m gone.”
“Yoongi,” you say quietly, shushing him with a gentle hand atop his wrist. He stares down at the point of contact, and you hope to god he can’t hear the way your pulse is going crazy. “You know I’d be happy to do it.”
Tentatively, he meets your eyes. “Are you sure? Your family -”
“Can manage a few more days without me. Looking after Dee is never a burden. She’s…” you cut yourself off, unable to hold his gaze. “She’s the best thing in my life.”
It’s not a lie. But perhaps it’s only a half-truth. The other best thing is sitting right opposite you, after all. 
Yoongi has never been the type to smile much. He’s stoic and blunt, and doesn’t know when to loosen up when the time calls for it - but he never says anything he doesn’t mean. That’s why it makes your heart feel so full when he says a soft, “Thank you, Y/N. You’re really helping me out here.”
You extract your fingers from his wrist, suddenly too shy to maintain the proximity between you. 
“Don’t mention it,” you cough.
Completely oblivious, Yoongi picks up his mug again. “You wanted to talk to me about something too?”
“Oh, uh… well. I was just -” You scramble for the right words, your mind drawing a complete blank beneath the weight of his gaze. 
It wasn’t like you’d come unprepared. You’d planned this whole thing out with Mina over the weekend, even going so far as to roleplay the possible outcomes of your confession (a necessity when it comes to Yoongi, because the man has absolutely zero concept of letting someone down gently). You’d practiced exactly what you wanted to say several times over in the car before heading over to pick up Dee, and all the whole way back to the penthouse you were convinced you had it down pat. 
Right up until Yoongi walked through the door, that is.
With the air stolen from your lungs just looking at him, your confidence crumbles, and the fact that he’s clearly had a shit day doesn’t help any. The harder you will yourself to form a coherent sentence, the more your tongue refuses to do so. 
“I-It’s not important,” you manage eventually.
Yoongi quirks a sceptical eyebrow at you. “Are you sure?”
You pause, then jerk your chin in a nod. 
“I’m sure.”
Yoongi doesn’t push it. 
“Okay then.” He finishes off the last dregs of his tea and rises to a stand. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to -”
“I know I don’t.” He crosses over to the clothing hooks and grabs your jacket, holding it out to you. “Put this on. I need to check in on Dee first.”
Dazedly, there’s little else you can do but follow his instructions. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Yoongi to see you through the parking lot outside his place, especially during the winter months when it’s dark out, but the gesture still never fails to make you giddy.
Next time, you say to yourself firmly when he returns, holding open the front door for you to slip out first. Next time, I’ll tell him.
Last Year
You slide your feet into your heeled boots, wincing at the way your toes pinch together inside. 
It’s a Saturday evening - one you’d normally spend watching curled up on the couch with a takeaway in your lap or running yourself a nice hot bath, had Mina not spent the better half of the week trying to convince you to go on a date with the IT guy from her office - and between running slightly late and the shot of Dutch courage you definitely shouldn’t have taken ten minutes ago, your stomach feels like it’s tying itself up in knots. 
“You need to get out more,” your friend insists. “It’s been literal years since you last had fun.”
You open your mouth to correct her but she fixes you with a warning glare before you can say anything. 
“Fun in the form of Hula Fit and pottery class don’t count, Y/N. And you should probably save the conversation about your weird hobbies until at least the third date. Preferably after sex too, or your chances of getting any will be slim to none.”
You sink down in your chair, scowling at her over the top of your ice cream cup. 
“I still have fun,” you mutter. “I just have a lot on my plate right now. This new job is taking up a lot of my time, and I’m really not interested in getting fired before the trial period is up.”
“Y/N, you pick a rich couple’s kid up from skate club five times a week, make her pasta and watch cartoons until bedtime,” Mina snorts. “What the hell could go wrong?”
“First of all Mr Min is a single father,” you say, pointing your plastic spoon at her accusingly, “and second of all, you haven’t met the guy. If you had, you’d understand why I’m so on edge.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s freaking terrifying, Mi!” You throw your hands up in the air to emphasise your point. “He barely spoke in my interview, just sat there giving me the dead eyes while his assistant asked all the questions! And he did exactly the same thing the first time I met his daughter. Just stood in the corner of the living room and watched, like he was assessing my ability to play with her or something.” 
“Well he must have liked what he saw, right? You got the job.”
“Barely. Apparently when he called the agency to let them know I was hired, he made a point of saying it was only because the other girl he’d been speaking with came down with pneumonia and he needed someone ASAP.” You pout sullenly, stabbing at your ice cream. “And since then he’s taken every opportunity to point out when I’m doing something wrong.”
“Maybe you’re just taking it too personally? That’s his little girl after all. He probably just wants to make sure she’s in safe hands.”
“I guess… I just wish he wasn’t so blunt about it,” you sigh. “Mostly I just feel sorry for Dee. I don’t get the chance to see them interact often because he usually gets home after her bedtime, but he doesn’t strike me like the type of dad who’s particularly involved, you know? She must only see him a couple of days a week.” You take another spoonful of ice cream, your gaze turning contemplative. “She must have one hell of a mother, wherever she is. I can’t think of any other way she could’ve turned out to be such a good egg, given that her father’s so emotionally constipated.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Mina lifts a hand to stop you from going on. “You think way too much about other people’s problems, you know that? It’s depressing. You need to stop getting stressed about the things you can’t change, and start focussing on the stuff you can.”
“Such as?”
“Such as your non-existent dating life.” She pulls her phone out and starts typing. “I’m sending you Jungkook’s number, and you will text him this week. Understood?”
Your phone vibrates in your back pocket.
“Mina -”
“Nope.” She holds up a finger. “I’m not backing down this time. Not until you agree to put yourself first for once.”
“...Fine,” you sigh eventually, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “I’ll text him. But I’m not promising anything more, okay?”
Though it physically pains you to admit it, Mina was right to an extent. You haven’t so much as given a guy your number in the past year, let alone one as hot as in the picture she’d showed you. Zipping up the tiny black skirt you’d borrowed from her closet, you realise with a sense of looming dread that the odds of making a fool of yourself tonight are decidedly not in your favour.
“Jungkook is a gentleman,” you recall her telling you, sipping daintily at her bubble tea. “He definitely doesn’t put out on the first date. Buuut -” she’d lifted a finger before you could chime in. “that does not mean you get the green light to wear your granny panties.”
“I don’t see why not. They’re comfortable and non-restrictive.”
“A girl should always wear her best lingerie when it counts, Y/N.”
“Says who?”
“Oscar de La Renta.”
“Ha, right. And what would he know about women’s underwear?”
She fixes you with a deadpan look. “Are you literally kidding me right now.”
“Mina, if Jungkook’s not going to see it then what’s even the point?” you mumble through a mouthful of ice cream, pointing the spoon at her to emphasise your point. “I’m not just gonna slice myself in half for nothing.”
If it were possible, you’re fairly certain Mina’s eyes roll all the way back into the back of her skull.
“It’s not for him, you loser, it’s for you. Sexy underwear is a confidence booster!” 
“It’s also expensive and a pain in the ass to move around in. Quite literally.” You tilt your plastic cup in an effort to dig out the last of the chocolate chips, but Mina reaches across to pluck the spoon from your fingers. “Wha-? Hey!”
“If you think I’m letting you pull a Bridget Jones on your first date in twelve months, you are sorely mistaken,” she says resolutely, ignoring your sullen expression. She raises a hand to flag down the server, muttering under her breath, “Clearly we have more work to do than I anticipated.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m taking you to Silky Fit, and we’re not leaving until you’ve picked something out,” she clarifies, pulling her purse out when the waiter came over with the bill. 
After sparing you a second glance, her expression softens somewhat. She tilts her head and sighs fondly at you, the same way someone might sigh at a helpless child, or a puppy covered from head to toe in mud after playing in the garden. 
“You have ice cream on your chin, babe,” she says, tossing a balled up napkin your way.
And thus, here you are a week later, teetering around your apartment in an outfit that’s two sizes smaller than anything you’d usually opt to wear, the string of your new thong pulling uncomfortably tight between your ass cheeks. 
Admittedly, glancing at yourself in the mirror before slipping your blouse on had left you feeling pleasantly flushed. Even despite the minor physical discomfort, Mina hadn’t been lying about the confidence boost. Your body looked good. The colour of the set you’d picked out provided a pretty contrast against your skin, and the bra had just the right amount of upward push to make your breasts look full and perky in their cups. Though ‘sexy’ was never typically a word you’d thought to associate with yourself, turning from side to side in the mirror almost had you reconsidering. 
Makeup done and hair styled into a loose updo, you snap a quick picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror, feeling surprisingly content with the end result.
Y/N: [image.png]
Y/N: all good ???
Despite being at a formal dinner with her boss and some company associates, it takes less than a minute for your friend to respond. You snort when an image of her disgruntled face comes through, clearly shot from beneath the restaurant table. 
Mina: stop trying to sext me ?? I don’t have time for this right now
Y/N: desperate times. need validation :(
Mina: you look so good I could eat you
Mina: ...are you wearing them?👀
You smile at your phone. Feeling emboldened by her praise, you pull up your camera again, this time shooting a quick video in which you turn slowly so she could see the full effect of your outfit. At the very end you tug your blouse to the side a little, flashing just the top of your lace bra with a comically over-exaggerated wink. 
Y/N: video.mp4 🤫
Y/N: enjoy your night baby x
Your taxi calls shortly afterwards to let you know they’re downstairs. 
Despite how busy the restaurant is tonight, it isn’t hard to spot your date. 
Jungkook is big. Far bigger than you’d imagined the stereotypical nerdy tech guy to be. He practically dwarfs you when he stands up to shake your hand, and you feel positively giddy when he rounds the table to pull your chair out for you. He even has the presence of mind to catch you when you inevitably stumbled over your heels on the way down, a gentle hand on your elbow stopping you from face planting in front of the entire establishment. 
“Careful there,” he murmurs, the amused smile on his face causing your neck to prickle with welcome heat. “You almost fell for me.”
When you let out a loud snort in response, clapping a hand over your mouth as a second too late to catch the unattractive sound, Jungkook doesn’t even bat an eyelid - just proceeds to tuck your chair in behind you and call the waiter over to take your drinks orders. You can’t help but wonder if Mina warned him about you beforehand. 
All in all, the date gets off to a good start. You’re relieved to learn that Jungkook is smooth enough for the both of you, seamlessly filling any lulls in the conversation before things have a chance to turn awkward. What’s more, he seems genuinely interested in learning more about you, listening attentively when you explain how you’re currently studying part time for your masters in education whilst nannying on the side. You flush with warmth when he praises your ambition. 
“It must be hard, juggling work with your studies,” he remarks. “It’s awesome that you’re so committed.”
“It’s not that impressive really,” you say, though your whole body is practically aglow from all the compliments. “Truth be known, the agency I work with deals primarily with parents from wealthy areas of the city, so most of us get paid a bit more than your average sitter would. It almost feels like cheating, really.”
“Oh?” Jungkook quirks an eyebrow, raising his wine glass to his lips. “Any celebrities on your contact list so far?”
“Sadly not. I’m only two weeks into my first job so far, and my current employer flies a little lower under the radar than most rich people.”
“A businessman then,” Jungkook nods.
“Precisely. He used to run a tech company, which I think is how he made the majority of his wealth. Nowadays he just does marketing stuff though.”
“A tech company, huh?” Jungkook presses. “Would I have heard of him?” 
To your alarm, he almost spits out his wine when the name Min Yoongi comes out your mouth.  
“Min? As in Min Enterprises?!” he sputters. 
You’re quick to fill him a glass of water, which he accepts gratefully. “That’s the one. You know him?”
“Sure I do,” he says between gulps. “We use literally all of his anti-virus software at work. The guy’s a genius.”
You raise your eyebrows curiously. “Really? The woman from my agency told me his tech company closed years ago. I don’t know much about this stuff, but I would have thought any software they produced would be a little outdated by now...”
Jungkook snorts in amusement. “Closed down is one way of putting it.”
“What do you mean?”
“His programme was good. So good that none of the other tech giants compete with it,” Jungkook explains once his eyes have stopped watering. “Come 2010, Microsoft bit the bullet and bought him out for around fifteen million. They’ve been developing and expanding on his work ever since.”
“Fifteen million?” Your eyebrows shot up towards your hairline. “Christ! No wonder his apartment looks like the Louvre.” 
“I bet it does,” Jungkook laughs. “I’d kill to see what your Christmas bonus looks like.”
It certainly explains a lot, you think to yourself. Particularly Yoongi’s attitude. You’ve seen The Social Network, after all, as painstakingly boring as it may have been. Those matrix-minded, Zuckerberg type kids always grow up to be emotionally stunted. It’s like a trade-off they make with God for getting to be smarter than ninety-nine per cent of the human population. 
When the waiter comes back to whisk away your starter plates, you momentarily excuse yourself to go to the bathroom to check your teeth for wayward broccoli. After giving yourself the all clear, you fix your lipstick and pull your phone out to let Mina know everything’s going well. 
You’re surprised to discover you already have three new messages from her.
Mina: helloooooo ??
Mina: man. she goes on ONE date and already I’ve been dropped
Mina: after all I’ve done for you 😭
You furrow your brows in confusion, scrolling up in the chat. Your bewilderment only increases when you discover Mina’s previous texts have, indeed, gone unanswered. Your video clip is nowhere to be found, and you wonder absently if the Wi-Fi back at your apartment is screwing you over again.
No sooner have you exited the chat that another text comes through, this time from a different number.
We need to talk.
Your heart abruptly flatlines. 
Several things click at once after that, the first being that clearly, it was not Mina’s name you had clicked on to send that video to. 
With shaking hands you open up the chat with your employer, utterly horrified when all your worst nightmares are confirmed at once. 
There, staring back up at you from beneath a message asking if Dee is allergic to band aids, is your cleavage. 
Enjoy your night baby, is what you’d said to Mr Min afterwards. 
Mr Min, who could slice a grown man’s confidence to ribbons with little more than a look. 
Mr Min, your boss of merely two weeks. 
“Fuck!” you hiss, pressing the call button and bringing the phone to your ear. “Oh fucking, fucking fuck…”
Your employer picks up on the second ring. You suck in a shaky breath before speaking. 
“Sir, I -”
“Miss L/N.” 
His voice is ice cold. So cold that the sound alone sound has your apology catching in your throat. 
Not for the first time since you met him, you’re reminded of exactly why Yoongi is so revered and respected among those in the business world. You can’t imagine what it would be like to have him speak your name like that in a boardroom full of men in suits, but you’re pretty sure any shred of self-confidence you had would be all but crushed beneath the toe of his designer oxfords if he so desired. In all honesty, you’d probably prefer it if he were yelling at you. At least if he raised his voice, you wouldn’t be gripping the faucet right now for fear your knees might buckle beneath you.
Somewhere on the other end of the line, a door slams shut like Yoongi is just getting in after a long day. Or perhaps he’s taking this conversation somewhere more private. Either possibility has your stomach churning with anxiety. 
“What is wrong with you?” he hisses under his breath.
You swear you’ve never wanted the floor to swallow you up so badly as you do in this moment.
Screwing your eyes shut, you force yourself to respond. 
“Sir, I can’t tell you how completely sorry I am… th-the video was meant for someone else. I would never be so bold as to -”
“You do realise I’m entrusting my child to you?”
Immediately, your mouth snaps shut. The sensation that you’ve just been slapped across the face takes you by complete surprise.
It takes a few seconds for your brain to play catch up with what Yoongi just said, but when the words finally compute, you feel -hurt-. The suggestion that your personal life might impact on your ability to take care of Yoongi’s daughter stings like hell, and for all his lacking interpersonal skills, your employer didn’t strike you as the type to draw such conclusions until now. The notion doesn’t sit well with you at all. 
Swallowing tightly, you place a hand over your abdomen to ground yourself.
“I really am sorry, Mr Min,” you repeat quietly. “It was an accident. I never intended to put you in an uncomfortable position, and I promise it won’t happen again.”
On the other end of the line, Yoongi is quiet for a moment. 
You wonder if he could hear the slight tremble in your voice. If he can sense the fact that he just squashed your self-confidence beneath his thumb like it was nothing. 
“Make sure it doesn’t,” he mutters eventually. Then, after another short pause, “I’ll see you on Monday.” 
Before you can so much as thank him for not threatening to report you to the agency, you’re met with the tell-tale click of your employer placing the phone down on you, leaving you with an embarrassed lump in your throat and bottom lip wobbling with the threat of tears. 
As could probably be predicted, your date with Jungkook goes rapidly downhill from there. Apparently unable to enjoy a good thing without utterly humiliating yourself along the way, you feel sick to your stomach with anxiety for the remainder of the evening. You barely even touch your dessert, and when Jungkook walks you to your cab half an hour later, you brush him off with a forced smile and a handshake, already having accepted the fact that he wouldn’t want to see you again.
Only when you’re in the back of the cab and heading home do you allow the first quiet tears to fall.
Showing up to work the following Monday is one of the toughest things you’ve ever done.
Even Dee seems to notice something is off when you pick her up from practice. Shrewd as she is, she eventually settles for humming along to the radio when she realises you’re in no mood to talk. Try as you might, you can’t stop replaying her father’s words to you on the phone, and despite Mina’s insistence that he’s an unforgiving prick, a small part of you still wonders if he’s right… Are you even fit to look after a kid? Are you fit to do -anything- besides making a fool of yourself?
To make things worse, Yoongi arrives home early that evening. 
As nervous as you are to see him again, you can’t help but be momentarily distracted by the way he hoists Dee up onto his hip to greet her. It’s not that he’s smiling or anything - such an expression would probably look wrong on him, anyway - but the way he cradles the back of her head seems strangely affectionate for a man like him.
“You’re getting heavy,” he murmurs, pausing to sniff her damp curls. His eyebrows furrow slightly. “And you smell different.”
“Y/N put lime jelly in my bath,” his daughter responds in a sleepy voice, her voice muffled against his lapel. “The water turned green like a skeptic tank.”
“Septic tank,” Yoongi corrects quietly. Though his face remains as expressionless as ever, you don’t miss the way his aura grows soft around her - a detail he himself probably doesn’t even recognise. “Sounds like you two had fun.”
His eyes lock with yours across the living room and you drop your gaze immediately, your body flushing with heat like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t. 
“S-sorry,” you blurt reflexively, already moving to grab your satchel. “I didn’t realise you were coming home early. Let me just pack up my stuff -”
“Y/N.” Yoongi’s voice stops you in your tracks. “Can I speak with you for a second?”
Standing stock still like a deer in the headlights, a sense of impending doom floods through you. This is it. Clearly Yoongi’s thought it over and decided to fire you after all. And the worst thing is you couldn’t even blame him! How could he possibly see you as a professional again after witnessing you running your tongue over your top teeth like a hungry carnivore? You haven’t even had the chance to explain it was -ironic.-
“Sure,” you squeak, torn between accepting your fate and grovelling on your knees for forgiveness. Who the hell was going to hire the babysitter who got fired from her first job during the trial period? For sending -provocative images- no less!
Carefully, Yoongi sets Dee down on the floor again, nodding in the direction of her room. 
“Why don’t you go pick out a bedtime story?” he says.
His daughter peers up at him like he’s just sprouted a second head. 
“You’re going to read to me?”
“No, I’m going to hit you over the head with it.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Obviously I’m going to read to you.”
Dee doesn’t look convinced. She folds her arms over her chest. 
“Alice in Wonderland?”
“That book is long as hell, Dee. I’ll read two chapters.”
“With the voices?”
“What am I, a performing monkey? Get out of here before I change my mind, kid.”
Dee huffs, clearly dissatisfied. Nonetheless, she trudges off to her room, her ringlets bouncing as she goes.
The living room falls uncomfortably quiet again once it’s just you and Yoongi. 
You fiddle idly with your hands, unsure of where to look. The embarrassment of the situation hits you all over again when you accidentally replay the video in your mind, and despite the fact that you’re wearing two layers already, you can’t help but cross your arms protectively over your chest. 
As if sensing your discomfort, Yoongi clears his throat.
“May I offer you a drink?”
You pause. It’s not quite what you’d expected, but then again, rich people are weird. Maybe it’s customary to send your incompetent employees on their way with a glass of Chateau Petrus. Having skipped out on the whole making-millions-of-dollars-in-your-early-twenties thing, you probably wouldn’t know.
“I’m fine,” you manage weakly, shaking your head. “Thank you, sir.”
Yoongi gestures towards the couches. “Shall we sit then?”
You gnaw at your lip anxiously. “... I think that depends.”
“Whether you’re going to fire me.” You force yourself to look up. “With all due respect, Mr Min, I’d rather just shake hands and go. I’m finding it hard enough to look you in the eye right now as it is.”
Yoongi blinks. Your words hang heavy in the air between you. 
“Miss L/N,” he says slowly, clearly taken aback by your forwardness. “If I wanted to fire you, I would have done so already.”
You open your mouth, then abruptly close it again. Your eyebrows tug together in confusion. 
“So you... aren’t?”
“Of course I’m not.” Yoongi shakes his head as if the notion alone is utterly ridiculous to him. “I only held you back tonight because I wanted to -” 
He cuts himself off suddenly, like there’s a physical barrier stopping the words from coming out. Then with a tired sigh, he leans back against the sideboard, carding his ringed fingers back through his hair. 
“Because I wanted to apologise,” he finishes.
If possible, your eyes grow even wider than before.
“...Huh?” is all you can manage.
“I shouldn’t have been so hard on you,” Yoongi clarifies simply. “I was out of line. I had no business speaking to you how I did.”
“Oh, n-no Mr Min,” you scramble for words, already raising your hands to stop him from going on. “Please don’t say that. What happened on Saturday was totally my fault. That message was -”
“A harmless accident,” he cuts in gently, and you pause at the unfamiliarity in his tone. “Please rest assured that I was the asshole in that situation, Y/N, not you.”
Lips parted softly, you gape at him from across the dimly lit living room. It’s beyond strange hearing such a formidable man issue such a humble apology, and you had absolutely no idea how to respond. 
Seeming to mistake your silence as a prompt for further explanation, Yoongi exhales heavily through his nose, his gaze momentarily dropping to his feet.
“I tend to get a little… short-fused around this time of year,” he says. “I lost Dee’s mother in early December. Yesterday was the four-year anniversary of her death.”
Your heart stutters in your chest. 
Of course, you knew there was a woman involved at some point. And in more than just an oven-for-the-bun kind of way, if the drawings on the fridge were anything to go by. But up until now, you’d assumed the two of them had simply parted ways - that she lived a few neighbourhoods away, and Dee visited her every other weekend. To learn that her absence is something far more permanent than that - to witness that purple stick-woman transform into a real, vibrant image in your mind’s eye - is something else entirely, and a thousand possibilities flash through your imagination at shutter speed. You see someone who took care of Dee when she was sick. Someone who encouraged her husband to pursue his goals and start up his own company. A mother and a wife, with hobbies and dreams and a presence that probably bled itself into every cranny of the apartment before Yoongi had stripped it bare in her wake. 
Someone who probably would have been utterly furious at you for all the bold assumptions you’ve made about him so far.
You wonder who the man standing before you might have been, had he not had the person he loved most in the world torn from him just as they were starting a life together. All at once, your gut burns with shame.
“Mr Min...” you say, your voice barely loud enough to make the distance between you. “I’m so sorry.”
Yoongi is quick to shake his head. “Don’t be,” he says, his tone kind but firm. “I’m a grown man. My grief is no excuse to treat people poorly. If I could take back what I said that night I would, but when your message came through it -”  He abruptly stops talking. 
If you didn’t know better, you’d think there was a hint of a blush on his cheeks. 
“It caught me off guard,” he finishes eventually, inclining his head in a small bow. “Please accept my apologies.” 
Feeling a little winded by the whole ordeal, there’s little else you can do but return his gesture, stooping low with your hands on your thighs. “Of course,” you manage. “Please, consider it forgotten, sir.”
Yoongi straightens up with a nod. His dark eyes skim over you with an unreadable expression.
“Just for the record,” he adds tentatively, “I never would have fired you for something like that. I’m afraid my daughter is already far too attached to you.”
You flushed at the sentiment, embarrassed for reasons you couldn’t quite place. “I highly doubt that’s true,” you mumble, glancing downward. “I’ve only been here two weeks.”
“On the contrary, there’s a bag of Christmas peppermint creams in the fridge that she made you at after school club,” says Yoongi. “I asked where mine were and she pulled my wallet out of my pocket, handed it back to me and told me to stop sponging off other people’s hard work.”
For the first time during a conversation with your employer, you let out a genuine laugh. 
Yoongi doesn’t laugh along, of course. He doesn’t even smile. You’re starting to figure at this point that his blank expression might actually be his happy one.
“Hey - will Dee be okay?” you ask a few moments later, when the room lapses back into a comfortable quiet. “I wasn’t aware that she might be going through a tough time...”
“I think she’s normalised it now,” Yoongi explains, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “She was too young back then. Her memories of her mother are abstract at best. The drawings she brings home from school, they’re just copies of photographs really. The stuff she knows from home videos or stories I’ve told her.” He pauses. “I think she can sense it though. How I get a bit funny around Christmastime. I think it upsets her.”
“You can’t help it,” you insist gently, the guilt of judging Yoongi too harshly causing your stomach to clench up once again. “Dee’s a smart girl. I’m sure she’ll come to understand it one day.”
Yoongi watches you from across the room, his head slightly tilted like he was trying to figure something out. 
“Thank you,” he says eventually. “For taking care of Dee. Things before… they were hard on her. I wish I could be there for her more.” He glances away momentarily. “I think you being here has made things easier.” 
Something warm and fuzzy unfurls in your chest at his words. 
“I’m happy I could help,” you say honestly. “She really is a great kid.”
“She is.” Yoongi nods.
“And she thinks the world of you,” you can’t help but add, because despite your previous assumptions about Yoongi’s parenting, it hadn’t taken long to cotton on to the fact that Dee never shuts up about him. 
“Right,” Yoongi snorts. He pushes away from the sideboard. “Tell me that again when the teenage years roll around.”
You grin, and he hesitates a moment for gesturing towards your raincoat.
“It’s dark out, and the light in the parking lot keeps flickering out,” he says. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
The offer takes you by surprise. You’re not used to seeing the kind side of your employer. Hell, you’re not used to much more than thinly-veiled criticism and blunt remarks.
Nonetheless, after saying a final goodnight to Dee, you let Min Yoongi walk you downstairs that day.
(You let him do it every day after that, too).
You’re sweating buckets by the time you reach the front door, your hair a wild mess from the unexpected bout of snow that had caught you on the way over. Panting like an animal, you raise your elbow to press the doorbell, taking about three tries before you actually manage to accomplish such a feat. 
It’s barely even finished ringing before Yoongi is standing before you, a disgruntled look on his face and cheeks pink from exertion. 
He’s dressed down - or as dressed down as one can be in a Ralph Lauren sweatshirt and comfy slacks, which in reality is about as close to loungewear as he’s likely to get. Up until now you were convinced the man slept in a full suit. 
Standing in the doorway with one hand on the frame, he gives you an unimpressed once over.
“You’re late.”
You roll your eyes. “Hello to you too.”
“What’s with the bags?” 
“Just a few things to get us through the week. Can I come in, or...?”
Begrudgingly, Yoongi moves out the way, though he’s still eyeing you warily.
“Exactly how much sugar are you planning to stuff my kid with while I’m gone?” 
You place your shopping bags down in the entryway with a sigh. “It’s Christmas, for heaven’s sake, what else are we supposed to do if not overeat until we pass out in front of the TV?”
Yoongi hums, his lips pursed. “Right. Just remember no sweet treats after eight. And no milk either for that matter, we’re trying her on -” 
“A lactose free diet to see if it helps with the stomach cramps,” you drone. “I’ve been here every weekday for a whole year, Yoongi. There’s no need to reiterate the rules every time I walk in.” 
“You might know the rules, but I know my daughter. She despises oat milk with a passion, and she’ll try every which way to get you to cave when it comes to hot chocolate.” He pulls out his wallet with a sigh, and your expression morphs into one of confusion. “How much do I owe you?” 
“O-oh! You don’t have to pay me back,” You hold your hands out in front of you, shaking your head. “These are a gift, and they barely cost anything anyway. It’s just gingerbread men and.. and colouring books and stuff.” 
Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. 
“Really,” he drawls. “So you’re telling me I won’t find the new Super Smash Bros game buried underneath all that junk food if I take a look?” 
“Shh!” You clap a hand over his mouth, eyes darting towards the living room. “Don’t spoil it!” 
Yoongi sighs, taking your wrist gently so he can speak again. “Snacks are fine, but that game is at least forty dollars. I can’t have you spending that much money on us.” 
“But I want to,” you insist, giving him the puppy-dog eyes. “Dee’s wanted it for months, and she’s been working so hard recently. I want to show her I’m proud of her.” You stick your bottom lip out. “Please let me.” 
Yoongi narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t look at me like that.” 
“Like what?” 
“You know what.”
You grin wickedly. You already know you’ve won.
With a reluctant grumble, Yoongi slides his wallet back into his pocket. “I’m only letting this slide because I’m running late,” he says, even though you’re both aware he’s not. He nods towards your grocery bags. “You need help getting those to the kitchen?” 
“I’ll be fine,” you wave him off. “You finish packing, boss. I’ll go say hi to the little monster.” 
Unsurprisingly, Dee is still in her pyjamas when you find her. She’s curled up on her side at the foot of the Christmas tree, Home Alone playing on the TV for the umpteenth time. You know it’s her favourite. She and Kevin have a lot in common when left to their own devices.
“Hey, bug,” you say in passing. “You getting into the Christmas spirit?”
Dee barely even lifts her head to look at you. “How can I?” she mumbles into the carpet. “I’m being abandoned. Again.”
You tut, opening the fridge so you can unload the goods into it. “Hey now, it’s not all bad. You have me, remember. And I have gingerbread men.”
You hold up the box and shake it, but Dee merely blinks at your efforts to raise her spirits. 
She sighs forlornly, her gaze sliding back to the TV.
Your eyes soften as you watch her. She looks so small like this, rolled over on one side with her knees tucked up against her chest. It’s hard to believe this is the same little girl whose performances explode like dynamite when she hits the ice, the energy she exudes reaching every corner of the rink. 
In these smaller, quieter moments, you see more of her father in her than ever.
“Dee,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “Look at me, bug.” 
Reluctantly, she peels her eyes away from the TV screen to meet yours.
“You know your dad doesn’t want to go any more than you want him to, right?” you say. “If it were up to him, he’d be staying right here.”
“I know...” Dee mumbles, playing with her fingers. “I just don’t like it when he’s gone.”
“I know you don’t, bug.” You smile sadly. “And that’s totally okay. But we need to make sure we don’t make this any harder on him than it needs to be, right? That means no tears this time.”
Dee rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushing. 
Yoongi had been called away on a weekend business trip in Paris a few months ago, and for whatever reason, the kid had had a meltdown like nothing you’d ever seen before when it came time for him to leave. It had taken all your strength to pry her arms from around his leg, and at the time it had been heart-breaking to witness. 
Her separation anxiety always tends to show its face at some point when Yoongi goes overseas, but never before to that extent. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look quite so torn as Yoongi had in that moment. If you hadn’t been there, you’re convinced he would have cancelled the trip altogether. 
Thankfully, the farewell goes a lot smoother this time. When Yoongi returns from his bedroom with suitcase in tow, Dee stands up and hugs him with little fanfare, burying her face in his stomach. He lifts a hand to smooth over her hair. 
“Be good, okay?” he says. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Love you,” Dee mumbles when she pulls back, and you send her an encouraging nod Yoongi’s shoulder. 
“Love you too, kid.” Yoongi bends to kiss the crown of her head, and you observe the exchange with the familiar ache of longing in your bones.
You see him to the door afterwards, the two of you loitering in the threshold as you go through the usual routine of checking he has everything.
“Boarding pass?” you say.
“In my bag.”
“Phone? Wallet?”
He pulls both out to show you. You smile fondly, leaning up against the doorframe with your arms crossed. 
“Text us when you land, okay?” you say softly.
“Yeah.” Yoongi nods. “If you have an emergency while I’m gone -”
“Call Namjoon, his number’s on the fridge under the banana magnet.” You roll your eyes, absentmindedly reaching out to fix his collar. “Again, been here a whole year, Yoongi. I know the drill.”
Your brain catches up a few seconds too late, and by the time you’ve realised your error Yoongi is already blinking down at your fingers, frozen in the process of smoothing down the hem of his sweater. 
Your eyes go wide in panic.
“Um-!” You retract your hands as if you’ve been burned. “H-have a safe flight, okay? I’ll see you soon!”
Yoongi merely hums, staring at you from beneath hooded lids with an unreadable expression.
You all but slam the door in his face, leaning your back up against it and pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.
“...fuck!” Yoongi hears you curse on the other side.
Last year
The first time you realised you’re in love with your employer, it’s the evening of Dee’s first regional skate competition.
At the request of the little princess herself, you wander into the changing rooms fifteen minutes before the show to give her a good luck hug, finding her perched on a bench in a sparkly blue costume. Her skates are already done up, feet swinging back and forth and her entire body seeming to buzz with energy. Smiling, you begin to make your way over. 
Then you spot him.
Perched on one knee, his hair swept back off his forehead and the sleeves of his work shirt rolled up to his elbows, Yoongi wields a makeup palette in his left hand and a brush in his right. When he murmurs something soft under his breath, Dee responds by closing her eyes. You watch on in quiet awe as Yoongi leans up to brush the glittery powder over her right lid with feather-light strokes. 
When he’s satisfied with the blending, he swaps out the eyeshadow palette for a pack of rhinestones, even going so far as to use a pair of tweezers to apply them seamlessly to her lash line one by one. You can’t help but wonder how many times he’s done this before. He must be the only father in the room right now, and something about the way he owns that fact makes your chest swell with something warm and unidentifiable. You wonder if the braids on her head are his handiwork too. If it was his idea that she wear her mother’s necklace over her costume tonight.
In this moment, you know with certainty there was no one in the world Min Yoongi cared about more than his little girl. 
When he just so happens to glance your way a moment later, Yoongi’s expression barely shifts from his default glower.
“Oh, good,” he remarks drily, tossing you a can of hairspray. You barely managed to catch it without fumbling. “She’s got some flyaways round the back. There’s a comb in the front pocket of her gym bag.”
He goes straight back to work without sparing you a second glance after that, firmly instructing Dee to stop wriggling lest he poke her eye out by accident. 
You swore your heart has never felt so full. 
Biting back a smile, you wordlessly locate the comb and start smoothing out her hair. 
“Hold it… hooold it…”
“Dee, babe. I really don’t think -”
“Hold it, Y/N!”
You exhale heavily through your nose, arms trembling as you struggle to maintain the downward dog position you’ve been forced into. Dee isn’t having nearly so much trouble, her forehead lightly touching her yoga mat when she arches her spine. She wiggles her bottom playfully in the air.
“That’s, guys. You look great!” chirps the annoyingly perky young woman on your iPad screen. “Now we take our right leg and extend upwards, pushing down hard into our heel so we can really feel that stretch in our hamstrings.”
“Trust me, I’m feeling it,” you grunt, barely managing to raise your right leg thirty centimetres off the ground. 
Dee giggles, her leg already extended to its full height as if her body were made of elastic. 
Your core contracts with the effort of keeping you upright, knees threatening to buckle beneath you.
“How is this fair? You’ve been skating since before you could walk and I haven’t moved this much since high school.”
“Tina says each new day is an opportunity to improve yourself.”
You roll your eyes. “Tina sounds like a hoot.” 
“That’s the spirit, ladies! Other leg, let’s go!”
You groan, switching sides. It’s the third day in a row that Dee’s had you do stretches with her, and you’re starting to feel more like you’ve signed up for a week of boot camp than a week of babysitting. 
Dee squints at you from beneath her armpit. 
“Y/N,” she sighs.
“You’re dropping your hips.”
“My apologies, Drill Sergeant Min. Won’t happen again.”
She returns to her position, shaking her head like a disappointed school teacher. “You’re worse than dad, you know.”
You do a double take. “I’m sorry - Yoongi does this with you?”
“Sometimes.” Dee moves gracefully into a side plank, facing away from you. “When he doesn’t have work.”
“And you’re telling me I’m worse?”
“It’s considera-bly,” you correct her with a huff, more out of indignation than anything else. 
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Dee shrugs.
You let out an amused snort, though your mind is still reeling at the thought of Yoongi willingly assuming the lotus position and breathing out for eight counts. Scratch that, your mind is reeling at the thought of Yoongi wearing anything other than slacks. What kind of power does this kid wield that she can get the human robot himself to break a sweat? 
You continue on with the routine until you can’t any longer, at which point you collapse onto your back with little ceremony. 
“That’s it,” you pant, waving the metaphorical white flag in the air. “I’m done. No more.”
“But we haven’t even got to the headstand part yet!”
“Go on without me, bug. I’ll only hold you back at this point.” You manage to sit up despite the dull ache in your abs, glancing over at the wall clock. “Man, it’s getting late. I should get started on dinner.”
No sooner have you spoken it that Tina’s bouncing breasts disappear from your screen, replaced by Yoongi’s caller ID. 
“Dad!” Dee gasps, already lunging forward to press accept before you can think to stop her.
When Yoongi’s expressionless face appears, he is confronted with the image of you kneeling on your yoga mat in a ratty pink sports bra and leggings, frozen like a deer in the headlights with your brow glistening with sweat and an eight-year-old’s halloween headband holding your hair back from your face. 
You freeze. Yoongi blinks at the velvet cat ears sticking up from atop your head.
“Good morning,” he says in a low rumble.
In the next second you’re diving off-screen with a muttered curse, grappling for your T-shirt where it sits bundled up on the floor. 
None the wiser to your panic, Dee scrunches her nose up. 
“Morning?” she says, settling on her stomach with her chin in her hands. “It’s like five p.m.”
“Different time zones, kid. It’s almost lunchtime here.” Yoongi reclines in his fancy armchair, which is presumably in his hotel suite. “You two have been working hard I see.”
“No pain, no gain,” Dee tells him matter-of-factly, even going so far as to flex her bicep for the camera.
Yoongi hums. “Just don’t go pushing yourself too hard, hm? One of these days you’re going to twist yourself up into a pretzel position you can’t get yourself out of, and when that happens -I’m- the one who’s going to end up carrying you around.”
“Tell that to Y/N,” Dee snorts. “She looked like a drowning octopus when we got to the backbends.”
“I was not that bad,” you hiss, your face heating up with embarrassment despite being off-camera. Then, as an afterthought, “And how the hell does an octopus drown?”
Nobody is listening to you. It might just be a trick of the light, but you’re convinced you spot the corner of Yoongi’s mouth give a slight twitch of amusement.
“Be nice, Dee,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly worried for you. “The only bad workout is the one that didn’t happen, right?”
You pause, giving Dee the side-eye. “...Did he just quote Tina?”
She fixes you with a serious gaze. “Careful. Dad is a big Tina fan.”
“Ugh, I bet he is,” you mutter under your breath, pulling a face as you recall the way Tina’s cute little glute muscles had contracted during the standing pigeon. 
“Feel free to let me know when you’re done talking about me like I’m not here,” Yoongi drawls dispassionately, taking a sip of his coffee. “I need to speak with Y/N.”
You can’t help the way your stomach flutters at that. Hesitantly (and having disposed of Dee’s cat ears), you lean back into frame. 
“What’s up?” you say with an awkward wave, already cringing at yourself internally.
Yoongi blinks languidly, passing no comment on your previous state of undress. 
“I’m expecting a delivery to arrive at some point this week,” he says. “I need you to sign for me and put it somewhere safe. Preferably out of reach for anyone below four-foot-two, if you catch my drift.”
“Ohh,” you nod slowly, giving him the thumbs up. Clearly this delivery was Christmas-oriented. “Gotcha. Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure no prying eyes see anything they shouldn’t.” 
You shoot him an exaggerated wink behind Dee’s head.
The smallest of smiles works its way onto Yoongi’s lips, and the sight is nothing short of stunning. Just like clockwork, the sight has your chest aching for him to be home. You open your mouth to speak again - perhaps to ask how Berlin is treating him, or some equally lame attempt to keep him on call for a little longer - but before the words can form there’s a sharp knock on the door of Yoongi’s hotel suite.
“Come in,” he calls gruffly.
Fortunately (or perhaps not so fortunately) the angle of the camera is just right that you can see the reflection of the door in the mirror behind, swinging open to reveal his guest. 
“Aha! There he is,” a sultry female voice sounds through the screen. “I’ve been looking all over for you, mister.”
Your heart sinks right to the pit of your stomach. Lower, if it were possible. 
There’s no doubt in your mind that the woman standing in Yoongi’s doorway is anything short of a goddess in a pinstriped skirt. You’d have to be blind not to see how gorgeous she is, all long limbs and softly curled red hair that falls in waves about her shoulders. She leans up against the doorframe with her hip cocked, a playful smirk on her face as she looks at your employer.
“Sofie,” Yoongi acknowledges with a polite nod. True to form, his expression betrays precisely nothing of what’s going on in his head. “Did you need something?”
“I just wanted to ask if you’re coming to lunch. We’ve made reservations at the restaurant downstairs if you’d like to join us.”
Your eyes skirt away, seeking out something better to look at. Anything really, so long as it’s not the obscenely beautiful woman who's hitting on the man you love in a swanky hotel eight thousand kilometres away.
“That’s very kind of you,” says Yoongi, and you wish for once that his voice was anything other than a monotone drawl. There’s absolutely no way of deciphering whether he's into this woman when he talks to her the same way he talks to you, and Dee, and noodles on the damn stove when he wants them to hurry up and boil. “I just need to finish up this call. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Perfect.” Sofie pushes away from the door with a coy smile. “I’ll see you there.”
She turns on her heel, hips swaying like a pendulum as she slinks out of the room. When the door closes behind her, Yoongi returns his focus to the camera, totally nonchalant. 
“Looks like I’m out of time,” he says.
Dee props her chin on her hand, pouting sullenly. “Are you gonna be home soon?”
“Four days, kid, then I’m all yours.” His gaze flickers over to you. “You two take care, okay?”
“You too,” you nod quickly, determined not to let the internal battle you’re having right now show up on your face.
“I’ll see you later.”
“Bye, Dad.” Dee waves.
“Enjoy your-”
The call ends abruptly, cutting you off.
“... Night,” you finish lamely.
The lovely Miss Tina returns to your screen, and Dee blows a gust of hair from between her lips. The sound startles you somewhat.
“Man,” she says, flopping down onto her stomach. “I hate that B-word.”
“Dee!” you shriek, your eyes almost bugging right out of your head.
She blinks up you innocently. “What? I didn’t curse.”
“I - God, who even taught you that?”
“Family Guy,” she shrugs.
“Right, that’s it. I’m revoking your TV privileges for the rest of the week.” You stand up, waving your finger at her so she knows you’re serious. “Just because it’s a cartoon does not mean it’s suitable for kids.”
“Fine. I’m sorry,” she mutters. “But Sofie really -is- annoying. She’s a froo-trarian, so we had to eat this really weird meal with papaya and stuff when she came over. And she said figure skating is basically just a style of dance!”
You freeze halfway to the kitchen.
“A froo-trarian,” Dee repeated, with extra emphasis on the ‘froo’. “It’s this religion where you don’t eat anything with a face, or anything that came out of something with a face, or anything green unless it’s a kiwi.” 
“No,” you shake your head jerkily. “No, I mean - Sofie came here? To the apartment?”
“Yuh-huh.” Dee’s already distracted, rewinding the workout video to where you left off. “She was doing some work thing with Dad. They were in his office for hours.”
Immediately, your stomach tightens with anxiety. Something about that doesn’t sit right with you at all. Yoongi hardly ever has people from work around, much less for a meal. The man can barely even feed himself when the recipe calls for more than a microwave.
A selfish part of you wants to press the matter with Dee. To ask her more questions about Sofie, and what was said over this illusive dinner they had together. How Yoongi had acted with her. But you know it’s not your place to pry. 
Yoongi deserves his privacy, and you refuse to let your paranoia infringe on that.
“I’ll get started on dinner,” you murmur, continuing on your way to the kitchen.
The feeling of unease stays with you for the remainder of the evening.
Last year
You’re filling in for a friend at the university library when the call comes through. Not on your mobile, because that’s been off all morning, but via the landline you didn’t even know the place had. Your supervisor hands you the phone with raised eyebrows, looking slightly rattled by whoever’s on the other line. 
“It’s for you. They say it’s urgent.”
‘They’ turns out to be an uncharacteristically flustered Yoongi. You’ve barely managed to greet him before he’s rushing to speak over you in a garbled voice, his tone simultaneously exhausted and frantic. 
“Dee’s sick,” he blurts, followed by the distinct sound of rooting through his cabinets. “The doctor said it was just a cold but - I don’t know, Y/N, her face is so hot and she can’t keep anything down, not even plain toast -”
“Okay, deep breaths.” You hold a hand up as if he were standing in front of you, doing your best to placate him. “Panicking won’t solve anything. What’s her temperature like? Is she drinking okay?”
“She was at a hundred last time I checked. I managed to get her to drink a little water, but she could barely even finish the glass.” He pauses to suck in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I think I’m having a heart palpitation. Should I give her a whole painkiller or half?”
You blink, taken aback by this new side to your employer. Eternally unmoved, it’s strange to hear his stress manifest itself in anything other than reclusiveness and a sharp tongue. You have to remind yourself how scary it must be to have your child fall sick - especially when you don’t have anyone to support you in taking care of them. 
“Hey,” you say, assuming a more gentle tone, “try to calm down a little, yeah? She’s only just pushing a fever. Her taste buds are out of whack right now, but you can put a dash of fruit syrup in her water to make the taste more bearable. One painkiller should be fine if you can get her to eat a snack with it.” You reach for your coat, shoving your free hand through the sleeve. “I’m heading to my car now, okay? I’ll be with you in twenty minutes. Just hang tight until I get there.”
Yoongi releases a shaky breath on the other end of the line.
“Shit,” he breathes. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” you say, signing yourself out. 
Things come to a head two days later, when the delivery guy shows up with enough parcels to fill Santa’s sled. 
You’ve managed to wrangle Dee into the living room while you find a spot to hide them all, but it’s no easy feat. You know she’ll sniff them out if you’re not careful enough. Thus, you find yourself in Yoongi’s home office, shoving the final few boxes under his desk. Due to the electrical work he’s in the middle of having done, there’s a strict policy on Dee entering this particular room unsupervised. 
“Finally,” you huff, the last package jammed tightly into the limited space beneath the desk like the final piece in a game of Tetris. You stand up and brush yourself off, feeling pretty pleased with yourself. 
The feeling is quick to dissipate, however, when you turn around to find you’ve somehow managed to miss one of the gifts. 
“Oh for goodness sake,” you mutter, glaring at the unassuming white shoebox atop the filing cabinets. “How many pairs of skates does one kid need?”
There’s no room left under the desk, so you figure one of the larger drawers will have to suffice. Crouching down, you root around in search of one empty enough to store it. 
Later, you’ll muse that it’s funny how something so small can flip your entire world on its head. You probably wouldn’t even have noticed the palm-sized box in Yoongi’s bottom drawer had your sleeve not got caught in the slide mechanism. You yank at it unceremoniously, somehow managing to dislodge the entire drawer in the process. 
“Fucking hell,” you mutter under your breath, the miscellaneous contents strewn all over the floor. 
Setting aside Dee’s gift, you start putting things to rights with a heavy sigh. Only then do your eyes fall to the dainty turquoise box that’s fallen between an old roadmap of Busan. Topped with a pearlescent white ribbon, the branding is unmistakable. 
You pause for a moment, blinking down at it like it might disappear if you stare long enough. When it doesn’t, you pick it up with shaky fingers.
You’re not sure what possesses you to do what you do next. Perhaps you need to see it with your own eyes. With your heart in your mouth, you flip the box open to peek inside.
There’s no denying that the necklace inside was designed for a woman. It’s custom made; dainty and romantic, everything about it practically screaming with intention. It’s almost comical, in fact, how very Yoongi it is. Who else could pull off a courting gift in this day and age if not him?
You laugh at the thought, ignoring the lone tear that slips down your face as you slide back onto your ass with a thump. The realisation that you’re actually crying over something like this makes you feel beyond stupid, but once you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop.
Nonetheless, you can’t bring yourself to peel your eyes away from the necklace either. You imagine Yoongi wandering into the shop during his lunch break and browsing the options - discussing her tastes with the clerk. Despite its beauty, you don’t have the stomach to take it out of the box. To open up the pendant and look at the photo. You think you might be sick if you read whatever beautifully intimate inscription he’s picked out to go inside.
You press your free hand down against your chest with a soft grunt. 
It hurts so much more than you thought it would. It hurts like a bitch.
“As if you thought he’d want you back,” you whisper, your voice thick. You bark a sharp laugh at your own idiocy. “Fuck. I’m such a loser.”
“Y/N?” Dee yells from the living room, and you almost drop the box to the floor in surprise. “The gingerbread men are burning! We gotta take them out!”
“C-coming!” you shout back, your throat tight.
You set the drawer to rights, shoving both the shoebox and the necklace back inside before slamming it shut. 
Last Year
“She really scared you, huh?”
Yoongi’s slumped over on the sofa, his head resting in his hands. With Dee finally asleep in bed having vomited, cried her eyes out, and clung to him like a limpet all through bath time, it’s no wonder he’s feeling worn out by this point. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s almost midnight.
“Mm,” he groans into his palms, lacking the energy to even lift his head.
“Can I get you anything?” you offer, your voice soft. “Coffee? Something stronger, perhaps?”
He waves a hand vaguely. “Tea will do. I’ll be with you in a minute.” 
You round the corner into the kitchen area, flicking the kettle on before moving over to the fridge. As per usual, it’s covered in Dee’s drawings - more so now, given her recent interest in sea creatures. In between the rough sketches of sharks and jellyfish, there’s countless portraits too - you and Yoongi. ‘Uncle Joon’. Their car Freddy, who sadly found a new home before you could meet him. A self portrait. Yoongi again... ‘Mommy.’
You pause, looking over the picture for the umpteenth time. It’s the only depiction of Dee’s mother you’ve been given - a wobbly purple stick figure in a ruby red dress, with curly black hair that stops at her shoulders. She’s smiling. Her little stick hand is attached to Dee’s on one side, and Yoongi’s on the other. Much to your amusement, Yoongi’s mouth has been drawn as a characteristic straight line.
Apparently some things never change.
You’re so busy examining it that you don’t catch him padding in behind you.
“She’s quite the artist,” he remarks, leaning back against the counter.
You turn around, offering him a soft smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Yoongi shrugs. “They’re up there for a reason.”
The kettle reaches boil, and Yoongi observes quietly as you set about making the tea. He accepts his mug with a nod of thanks, but doesn’t drink it immediately. Instead he slides his finger contemplatively over the rim, catching a lone drip before it can roll down the side.
“Thank you for coming over tonight,” he murmurs, staring down into the dark liquid. “I really appreciate your help.”
“It’s no bother,” you say honestly. “You barely needed me at all, by the looks of things.”
Yoongi huffs a small laugh, but the sound falls just short of genuine. “It’s okay. I know I’m shit at this stuff. Elle always took care of the coughs and colds when Dee was small.”
You feel your heart skip a beat, only just stopping your tea from going down the wrong way.
He’s never said her name before.
Yoongi is watching you carefully, like he’s trying to gage your reaction. His dark hair shrouds his eyes. 
“It’s okay,” he confirms quietly. “You can ask.”
“What happened to her?” you breathe, like it’s something you’ve been holding in all this time. You didn’t even realise you wanted to know until he said it, but for some reason it feels like there’s so much hinging on his answer. 
You realise belatedly it’s because you want to know Yoongi. You want to understand the little intricacies that make him the man he is, and the woman who played such a big part of it. 
You want to earn his trust. 
“It was four years ago now,” he says, bringing a hand up to work the kinks out of his neck. “She fell ill out of the blue, and the doctors told us it was a lung infection. A rare one, especially given her age, but not incurable. Unfortunately, her body didn’t respond well to the treatment.”
You shake your head. “Oh, Yoongi...”
He nods. Places his glass down with a small sigh. Despite the fact he doesn’t open up often, it’s clear to see he’s made peace with his story now. There’s no anguish in his words; only the fleeting sadness of someone who’s known more loss than they should. 
“She spent her last six months in hospital, and during those last few weeks when she was sick… I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I think that’s why it was hard today. With Dee.” He seeks out your gaze hesitantly. “I get scared seeing her like that.”
“Anyone would,” you say assuredly, secretly wanting nothing more than to close the distance between you and comfort him. You hold yourself back on principal. “But I promise you, Dee is going to be just fine. It’s just a stomach bug. Some kids are more prone to them than others.”
“I know.” He nods, sweeping his hair back. “I know, I just... get caught up in my head sometimes. Especially this time of year.”
“Totally understandable,” you nod. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, Yoongi.”
Slowly, as if part of him is still waiting for you to press for more information, Yoongi picks up his tea again and takes a tentative sip.
“...Thank you,” he says after a long pause. 
You raise your eyebrows at him. “For what?”
“For loving Dee,” he clarifies. 
You smile at him softly in the dim kitchen light.
“Thank you for letting me,” you say, raising the mug to your lips.
Yoongi arrives home on Saturday evening, just as the second smattering of snow meets the ground. You hesitate when you hear him come through the door, staying behind in the kitchen as Dee skids into the entryway in her socks. You can hear the surprised grunt she forces from his throat as she flings her little arms around his midsection. 
“Oof. Hi there, kid,” he says, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice after a long night of travelling. You imagine him lowering himself down into a squat so she can hug him properly. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Y/N said I could wait up for you.”
“Is that so?” he hums. “And where is Y/N?”
You sigh quietly, understanding that this is your cue. Steeling your nerves, you hike your duffel bag up higher on your shoulder and head out into the hall, your boots heavy against the hardwood floor.
Yoongi’s eyes sweep upwards when you round the corner, trailing all the way from your shoes to the hem of your coat, already buttoned to the top. You pause somewhat awkwardly in the doorway, and he rises to a slow stand. Despite having practiced three times in the bathroom mirror prior to his arrival, your attempt at a casual smile falls miserably short of hitting the mark. 
“Hey,” you say softly, wondering if you look as drained as you feel. You had next to no rest last night, woken at 2 am when Dee had knocked on your bedroom door claiming she’d had a nightmare.
“I can’t sleep now,” she’d said tearfully, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest. It was a gift from Yoongi when she was small - something she’s always kept extra close whenever he’s away.
“You and and me both, bug,” you sighed, picking her up gently to take her back to bed.
Yoongi’s coat is still on as he watches you. He eyes the bag on your shoulder warily.
“Hi,” he says, his tone somewhat tentative. 
He knows something’s up.
“How was your flight?” you ask, your gaze skirting all over the place in an embarrassed bid to do anything but meet his eyes.
“Tiring,” Yoongi nods. “It’s good to be home.”
“I’m sure,” you hum.
It’s uncomfortable. Even Dee seems to sense it, burying her face in Yoongi’s stomach again. He settles a hand on the back of her head, but his eyes never once leave you.
“You aren’t staying,” he says slowly, and it falls just short of a question.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your fingers tightening around the strap of your duffel.
“I can’t. My family... they’re expecting me.”
“I thought you said you weren’t headed home until Monday now.”
Finally, your gaze shifts upwards to collide with his. It’s not like Yoongi to call you out, but he can sense there’s something awry here. You’ve never been so quick to head out before, always sticking around to put Dee to bed or discuss how she’d been while he was away. Yet here you are - practically two seconds away from shoulder-checking him against the doorframe in your haste to leave.
When you speak again your voice is quiet, but there’s something in your tone that implies you won’t be taking further questions.
“Thing’s change.”
Yoongi blinks. Unable to formulate a response fast enough, all he can do is watch as you lower yourself down to kiss Dee’s head, murmuring that you’ll see her soon. When you straighten up, the small, closed-lip smile you offer him is tinged with sadness. 
“Enjoy your Christmas, Yoongi,” you say before moving towards the open door.
“Y/N, wait -”
“I really have to go,” you sigh, pausing with your back to him.
“Evidently,” Yoongi nods. “But I need to talk to you first.”
“Can’t it wait?” you grit out.
“I’m afraid not.”
You’re at war with yourself when he tells Dee to go sit in the living room for a minute; too distracted to be surprised that she goes without a fuss. Clearly, your weird behaviour is more obvious than you thought. 
Yoongi ushers you wordlessly into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind you both. 
“Y/N,” he says in a low voice, fixing you with a look.
You raise your eyebrows at him.
“What?” you say, crossing your arms defensively. You wince internally at how stand-offish you sound, but Yoongi does little more than quirk a brow. He slides his hands into his pockets.
“Explain,” he says levelly. 
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.”
“Yoongi -”
“You know exactly what I mean, and you’re taking advantage of the fact that I’m shit at reading people’s emotions,” he cuts across you, an underlying note of warning in his tone. “Talk to me, or I can assure you we won’t be ironing this out any time soon - whatever this is.”
You blink, momentarily taken aback that he managed to work that out so easily. Then again, maybe you shouldn’t be. Yoongi’s always made a habit of observing more than he speaks.
“Is it Dee?” he presses, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“What?” You shake your head. “Why would it be Dee?”
“I’m just throwing out options here,” Yoongi raises his shoulders in a shrug. “Is it me?”
“Yoongi, please…”
“Okay, so it is me,” Yoongi nods. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me what I’ve done, and I’ll fix it.”
“Christ,” you mutter, raising a hand to massage your temples. 
Ever the businessman, Yoongi’s answer to everything is cut and dry. He locates the problem and he fixes it. He despises leaving things up in the air like this, and if you didn’t feel so sorry for yourself over the fact that he’s screwing his work colleague (or at the very least, will be in the near future), you’d almost feel guilty for doing it to him. 
It’s better this way, you remind yourself. This way, no one else gets hurt.
Unfortunately, your employer has a knack for throwing salt in the wound without even realising he’s doing it. 
“Is it the money?” he asks out of nowhere, ticking his head to the side to look at you. “If you feel I’m underpaying you for your time, all you have to do is say so, Y/N. I can’t read minds.”
You open your mouth, then close it again without saying anything. 
For the second time since meeting Yoongi, the force of his words make you feel like you’ve been physically slapped. You glance away as the familiar lump starts to form in your throat.
“You know what?” you choke out. “Forget it.” 
Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow slowly. “Y/N -”
“Tell Dee I said merry Christmas.”
With that, you turn on your heel and make for the elevator, your eyes blurry with tears as you punch desperately at the dial.
Yoongi doesn’t call after you. 
Last year
“I’m really not in the mood for this, Mina...” 
“Just one more round!” your friend begs, clasping her gloved hands together with a pout. “It’s unfair of you to waste your god given talents like this. I need that plushie, Y/N!”
You narrow your eyes at her, your expression largely hidden behind the chunky knit scarf which obscures half of your face. Christmas Pikachu smiles at you mockingly through the glass.
“Fine,” you cave eventually. “One round. And you’re paying.”
Mina claps her hands in delight before pulling her purse out, shoving her coins merrily into the slot.
Around you, the Christmas Eve fair is in full swing. It’s an annual event, complete with ice rink and arcade games, the food stalls crammed with families and friends who are practically rolling in the festive spirit - something you can’t quite bring yourself to get into the swing of this year. 
You haven’t spoken to Yoongi since you left his apartment a week ago, though admittedly, this was not for lack of trying on his end. He’s texted you twice so far - once to ask if you’d made it to your parents’ house okay, and a second time to let you know your overtime payment had been transferred to you. Which, in hindsight, might not sound like much if you didn’t know Min Yoongi like the back of your hand. Getting him to respond to his messages, let alone send one -first-, was nigh impossible if it wasn’t a matter of business.
“So…” says Mina, leaning her shoulder up against the glass as the claw machine whirrs to life. “You’re really just gonna keep ignoring him?”
“Are we still talking about this?” you hum, fiddling with the levers. 
“I just want to know where we’re going from here, babe. You were in bits when you called me the other night.”
You sigh heavily. “There’s nothing to discuss, Mi. He likes another woman. He’ll be dating her by the new year, if he’s not already. The only thing I can do is suck it up and move on.”
Mina nods slowly, watching your side profile. “And what about your job?”
You gnaw the inside of your cheek, hesitating for a moment. Your voice is tentative when you say, “I’ve been in touch with the agency.”
Mina straightens up. “Y/N…”
“Don’t,” you murmur, your eyes remaining fixed on the claw as it descends. “Please don’t lecture me. I know it’s not ideal, but they said there’s a couple of girls on book who can take my place on short notice. They also said they get an influx of requests for sitters around new year, so I shouldn’t be out of a job too long if I play my cards right.”
Your friend’s expression softens. She reaches out to touch a gloved hand to your forearm.
“You know I only want you to be happy, right?”
You nod stiffly. “I know.”
“And if resigning is going to make you happy, then I’ll be right behind you the whole way. It’s just…” she pauses, biting her lip gently. “I know how much you love that kid, Y/N. And I can only imagine how much she loves you. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I think it’s a bit late for that, Mi,” you mutter, just as the claw drops Christmas Pikachu an inch from the chute. “And I’m pretty sure this shit is rigged. Let’s move on.”
“Giving up so easily?” says a familiar voice behind you.
You freeze. 
Turning slowly, your stomach sinks at the sight of Yoongi hovering a few feet away. He stands with one hand in his pocket, the other clutched tightly around Dee’s mitted fingers. The dark feathers of his fringe stick out from beneath the woollen beanie on his head, and you can’t help the way your heart clenches up painfully at the sight.
“Y/N!” Dee exclaims, breaking away from her father to close the distance between you. 
You open your arms to her on autopilot, your breath catching in your throat when she wraps her arms around your middle. She rests her chin on your stomach, cheeks flushed and rosy from the cold as she looks up at you with imploring eyes. 
“Where have you been?” she says, showcasing the gap in her front teeth. “Uncle Joon’s had to pick me up from practice three times now, and he’s so much worse at it than you. He doesn’t even let me listen to the radio,” she adds sullenly. 
“I’m sorry, bug,” you say softly, placing a hand on her hat. It’s shaped like a panda head, complete with button eyes and two fluffy black ears. “I’ve been... busy.”
“Y/N,” Mina prompts, not unkindly. Her eyes flicker warily over to Yoongi. “Are you going to introduce us?”
“Uh - right. Sorry.” You clear your throat, gesturing vaguely between them. “Yoongi, this is Mina, my friend from college. Mina, this is Min Yoongi, my -” You cut yourself off, embarrassment coiling in your stomach. “Dee’s father,” you settle for in the end. 
Yoongi steps forward to shake Mina’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Mina hums, though her tone is sceptical at best. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Yoongi nods. He steps back with hands in his pockets, and you fear another awkward silence might be coming on until he glances sideways at the grab machine. 
“Anything I can help with?” he says, raising his eyebrows.
If Mina is taken aback by the proposal, she doesn’t show it. She’s the complete opposite of you when it comes to social situations. (Meaning she’s actually good at them for the most part).
“Only if you’re better at this stupid game than Y/N,” she sighs forlornly, pressing her finger to the glass. “Christmas Pikachu won’t stop staring at me. Fancy taking a stab at it?”
Panicked by the prospect of being around Yoongi any longer than you have to be, you’re quick to wave her off. “Yeah, I really don’t think -”
“Sure,” Yoongi cuts across you with a shrug, already pulling his wallet out. “How much is it for a spin?”
Dumbfounded, you find yourself standing awkwardly on the sidelines as the three of them crowd around the claw machine. While Mina leans up against the glass with her arms folded, Dee jumps up and down on her toes, cheering her father on as he works the controls. Yoongi barely spares you a glance, already far too absorbed in beating the machine before his time runs out.
Not twenty seconds later, Dee is squealing with delight as Christmas Pikachu dives down the chute with three seconds to spare. 
“Woah!” Mina exclaims, dusting the plushie off as she examines him. “Nice skills. You learn that in business school?”
“Of course,” Yoongi blinks. “They’re big on the fundamentals.”
Mina snorts, but you know she’s not won over just yet. She holds Christmas Pikachu out to Dee.
 “There you go, kiddo. Consider it an early Christmas present, hm?”
Dee’s eyes go wide, her lips forming a surprised ‘o’ shape. 
“Really?” she says in a small voice.
Mina shrugs. “He’s all yours. I don’t really rate guys who play hard to get anyway.” 
She shoots a pointed smile at Yoongi, and you elbow her hard in the back.
None the wiser, Dee accepts the gift with a happy little noise, hugging it hard to her chest. “Cool!”
Yoongi places a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“What do we say?” he prompts.
You can feel your heart thawing when the little girl blushes, realising her error.
“Thank you,” she says shyly, looking down at her pink snow boots.
Mina pats her affectionately between the panda ears. “No problem, kiddo.”
“Right. Well.” You clap your hands together. “It was wonderful seeing you both, but we should be heading back now. Mina and I have a thing.”
Your friend quirks an eyebrow. “Do we?”
“Yes, we do,” you hiss through your teeth, and the message seems to go through. Turning back around, you open your arms to Dee. “Got a goodbye hug for me, bug?”
To your surprise, Dee doesn’t indulge you. Instead she shrinks back behind Pikachu until only her eyes are showing, big and round and hopeful. 
“Aren’t you going to watch me skate?” she says in a small voice, the question muffled by his fur.
Your heart sinks. -Of course,- you think. There’s an ice rink at the fair, and Dee never misses an opportunity to get on the ice. She also never forgets a pinkie promise, and you’ve sworn to her on several occasions that you’d always be there to support her if you could. 
Not about to break your word like that, you sigh inwardly before forcing a smile. 
“Of course I am, bug,” you breathe, straightening up. “But just one round, okay? Mina and I will be watching from over here -”
“Y/N,” Yoongi cuts across you softly. 
Startled, you meet his eyes. It’s the first time he’s addressed you properly since his arrival, and there’s an expression on his face that you’ve never seen before. He peers at you tentatively from beneath his bangs.
“I was actually hoping we could watch from over there,” he says, nodding to a cluster of secluded benches over by the hot chocolate stand. Clearly he’s trying not to make things weird in front of Dee, but you have no trouble picking up what he’s putting down. 
Yoongi wants to speak to you. Alone.
You open and close your mouth a few times as you try to come up with a subtle way to reject him but (as she seems to be so fond of doing these days) Mina beats you to the punch.
“What an excellent idea,” she says, a firm hand on your lower back. “Y/N and Yoongi can go be boring grown ups over there, and in the meantime -” she holds her hand out to Dee with a smile, “- us two will hit the ice and have some real fun.”
Dee flashes her gummy grin, her tongue poking out through the gap her missing tooth left behind as she accepts Mina’s hand. Your friend glances at Yoongi with raised eyebrows, waiting for permission. 
“Fine by me,” he shrugs. He flips his wallet open again, but Mina waves him off.
“Ah, ah, ah. You’re not the only one with money, Mr Marketing guy. This one’s on me.”
Yoongi snorts at that, but he doesn’t protest when Dee tugs both Mina and Christmas Pikachu off towards the ice rink. As he slots his wallet back into his pocket, your friend tosses you a supportive smile over her shoulder.
“Sorry about her,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself. You stare at the frozen ground beneath your feet. “She can be a little… hard to please at first.”
“Don’t be,” Yoongi shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’m actually glad I ran into you both.” 
“You are?”
He hums lowly in affirmation. “It’s been a while.”
You bite your lip in embarrassment, suddenly unsure of what to say. There’s not much point in trying to defend yourself. Both of you know you’ve been ignoring him, and the fact that Yoongi’s acting otherwise right now is a professional courtesy you definitely don’t deserve.
“Come.” He says, jerking his chin in the direction of the benches. “I’ll buy you a drink.” 
He’s already walking away when you look up, and you have little option but to follow. 
Yoongi gently insists that you take a seat while he queues for your drinks, and returns five minutes later with two mugs of mulled wine. You accept with a quiet thank you, raising your eyes at the saran-wrapped cookie he slips into his coat pocket.
“For Dee,” he explains. 
The two of you lapse into an extended quiet as the new skaters take to the rink. Dee and Mina appear together, laughing as Mina nearly stumbles over right off the bat. They appear to have pawned Christmas Pikachu off to a good-natured attendant, who lifts the plushie’s paw in a wave every time Dee passes by. 
You can’t pretend the sight doesn’t hurt your heart a little. Dee is easily one of the best things that’s ever happened to you, and the thought of not seeing her as much come the new year feels just as painful as the alternative. 
You sip your drink, keeping your eyes glued to her even when Yoongi clears his throat. 
“So,” he says.
“Did I do something wrong, or?”
“N-no? Why would you think that?” you try.
Yoongi pins you with a look.
“Seriously?” he says, though his tone is not unkind. “You’ve been ignoring my texts for a week now. Dee said she emailed you an invite to her New Year's showcase and you still haven’t got back to her. She got Juliet by the way.”
You smile ruefully at your lap, thumbing at the rim of your mug. “I knew she would,” you say quietly.
Yoongi watches your side profile carefully. 
“Y/N,” he says, and you know there’s no wriggling out of it when he takes that tone. “Whatever it was I did, I can’t make it better unless you tell me what’s wrong. You know I’m not good at this stuff.”
You sigh, your breath spiralling upwards in a cloud of white. At this point, you feel utterly defeated. 
“Would it be cliche to say it’s not you, it’s me?”
“Then I’m sorry,” you shrug. “It’s the best I’ve got right now.”
Yoongi stares at you a while longer, his expression carefully blank. Then he turns back to the ice rink.
The pair of you sit in loaded silence for a few moments.
“So that’s it?” 
You shrug. “That’s it.”
Yoongi leans back in his seat. He says nothing.
You’re acutely aware that anyone passing by right now would think you’re a couple. You certainly look the part - sitting side by side in comfortable silence, watching your daughter having fun on the rink. And maybe in another life, in some alternate dimension, that’s exactly what you are. Just the three of you, with no hang-ups or baggage or strings attached. No complications. Just happy.
You almost jump out of your skin when Yoongi speaks again.
“You remember when you sent me that nude by accident?”
You choke a little on your mulled wine, your hand flying to your mouth.
“I - it wasn’t a nude!” you exclaim.
You stare over at him with wide eyes, but Yoongi keeps his gaze firmly on the ice rink.
“I blew up at you over the phone afterwards because I felt guilty,” he goes on, his voice a low murmur. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”
Your eyebrows pull together in confusion. “Why would you feel guilty?” you mutter. “I sent it, not you.”
Yoongi shakes his head minutely, still not looking at you. “The timing was all wrong. It was the anniversary of my wife’s death, and I was… I was confused.” His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “I felt like I was disrespecting both of you at once. It fucked with my head.”
“I’m sorry, Yoongi,” you murmur.
“How many times are you going to apologise for my misgivings?” he says forcefully, and you shut up immediately at his tone. “You’ve done more for Dee in the past year than any school teacher or single parent support service has managed to achieve in five. You cook meals for her, watch every single one of her practices even though you don’t have to, and read to her in those stupid voices she’s always begging me to do.” You chuckle wetly at that. “Not to mention her confidence has shot up from having a woman around the house. She misses you like crazy now that you’re not around.”
“I miss you like crazy.”
You freeze. He’s looking at you dead in the eyes now, and his gaze is burning.
You flinch when something touches your hand, your throat constricting when you glance down to find Yoongi’s fingers wrapping tightly around yours.
“Come back to us,” he implores softly.
“I don’t think I can,” you whisper, your voice thick with unshed tears.
“Because I love you.”
The silence seems to stretch on forever. Your heart beats in your throat. 
When Yoongi retracts his hand, your heart shatters into a million pieces all over again.
“I love you, and you’re in love with someone else,” you say, cursing yourself when your bottom lip starts to tremble. You turn your face away, unable to meet his eyes as you continue. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have been snooping, but I was looking for a hiding spot for Dee’s presents, and then the necklace fell out and… and when we called you Sofie was there, and Dee let slip that she’d been at the apartment to see you so I put two and two together, and I felt so awful, Yoongi... I felt awful that you’re trying to start this thing with someone new, and here I am wishing it was me instead. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to Dee.” You scrub the sleeve of your jacket under your eye. “You deserve to be happy. Dee deserves to see you happy.”
For a man known for being chronically unreadable, every emotion under the sun seemes to flicker over Yoongi’s face in that moment. Eventually, he settles on utterly bewildered.
“Shit,” he breathes. 
You laugh sardonically. “Yeah.”
“You... love me,” he says flatly.
“Please don’t make me repeat all that.”
He swallows. “And you found the necklace.”
“That’s what I said, yes.”
“The necklace for Sofie.”
You glare at him. “Are you trying to rub it in? Yes the necklace for Sofie.”
“Right.” Yoongi nods. “Just to clarify -”
“- Oh for god’s sake.-”
“- You mean this necklace, right?”
You pause mid-sentence when he pulls the box from his pocket, before narrowing your tearful eyes at him.
“I - Why on earth are you carrying it around with you?”
He thumbs over the ribbon gently, resting the box in his lap as he peers down at it.
“Dee and I are headed to her grandparents’ after the fair,” he hums. “I shoved it in my pocket because I was planning on returning it tomorrow.”
Your eyes flicker up to meet his face. 
“Why?” you dare to ask.
“Because last time I saw the girl I intended to give it to, it was as if she couldn’t even stand to look at me. How could I think I stood a chance after that?”
“Yoongi... what are you talking about?”
He passes you the box. “Open it.”
“I’ve already seen -”
Yoongi pins you with a deadpan look. “I won’t ask twice, Y/N.”
You open the box, and the necklace stares back at you. Even though you’ve seen it before, it’s delicate beauty still steals your breath away. 
“Look inside,” he prompts.
Tentatively, you do as you’re told, snapping open the silver locket with gentle care. It takes a few seconds for your brain to compute the image inside, but when you do, you’re clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the pathetic sound you make. 
There, in the left hand side of the locket, is a picture of you, Yoongi and Dee, snapped by Taehyung shortly after that first skating competition you ever attended. You’re crouching at the side of the rink with your hands on Dee’s shoulders as she holds up her medal, the two of you grinning like idiots. A little further back in the shot Yoongi leans against the railings, his eyes fixated on the pair of you with an uncharacteristically soft expression on his face.
Your heart thuds dully when you realise he’s smiling. 
Your gaze shifts over to the inscription on the other side of the locket, written in simplistic cursive.
Because of you, I have something to hold on to.
Abruptly, your vision blurs with fresh tears.
“I don’t understand,” you croak.
Yoongi shrugs, leaning back against the bench. “What is there to understand?” 
“I… When did you even -?”
You look at him through wet eyes. 
“Paris was three months ago,” you whisper. 
He nods once, decisively. “I figured if I could make it to December without losing my nerve, then the timing would be right.”
You hold each other’s gaze. 
“You want... me?”
“Do you see anyone else here?” 
“But Sofie -”
“Is happily engaged, and came over to the apartment a grand total of once because she was phenomenally behind in her reports and needed the help. I have no interest in her,” he says frankly. “You on, the other hand, are pretty much all I’ve been able to think about for the past year.”
You sniff thickly, shaking your head. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re going to have to spell it out for me. I tend to read these things completely wrong, and I don’t want -”
“I’m in love with you, and you’re in love with me,” Yoongi states plainly. He nods towards the necklace. “Are you going to put that on at any point or just sit there blubbering over it?”
“Can’t we just have a moment for once?” you sob.
“I’m sorry, what else have we been doing for the past five minutes? All these emotions are exhausting me now. Please just put the necklace on so I can kiss you.”
Your eyebrows tug together pathetically. 
“You want to kiss me?”  
He rolls his eyes. “No not really, I just said that for dramatic effect.”
“Yoongi- mmph!”
You’re cut off when he slides his hands around your waist, tugging you forward to meet his lips. His mouth moves over yours softly, as if you’re something precious, and you practically melt into him. Placing a shy hand on his chest, you shudder as a languid heat seeps through every fibre of your being.
Your mind seems to still as the two of you kiss amidst the frigid night-time, and when you break apart a fraction your mingled breath is warm between you. Then Yoongi’s lips are at the corner of your mouth, and on your cheek, and your jaw, and finally hovering gently by the shell of your ear, causing shivers of anticipation to run through you.
“Listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once,” he whispers. “There is never a time when I don’t want to kiss you. I drive myself crazy just looking at you. You’re simultaneously the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and the stupidest woman I’ve ever known because you have absolutely no idea what you do to me.” You bite down hard on your lip, eyes fluttering closed as he presses you closer against his chest. “You’re all I want, every second of the day. You’re it for me, Y/N.”
You feel overcome. The tears have barely ceased, but already you feel like you might start choking on sobs again. 
Unsure of how else to express how much his words mean to you, you wrap your arms around his neck and hug him.
“Say you love me again,” you whisper.
“Do I have to?” he murmurs back, holding you close.
“I love you.” 
“I love you.”
You hold him tighter, turning your face into his neck. “I love you too.”
“Mm. I think we established that earlier when you were -”
“Don’t think I won’t still throttle you,” you whisper softly against his pulse.
You can’t see it, but this time can practically feel him smiling.
You’re not sure how long you stay like that, wrapped up in one another’s embrace as the Heavens open up and a light snow begins to fall, but you can only assume it’s been a while. By the time Dee returns with Mina and Christmas Pikachu, she’s somehow acquired a tub of cotton candy. 
“Why are you crying?” she says through a mouthful of finely-spun sugar, totally nonplussed. 
“Hay fever,” you and Yoongi respond at the same time, quick to extricate yourselves from one another when you realise you’re no longer alone. Yoongi clears his throat awkwardly, his cheeks visibly pink beneath the overhead lights. 
“It’s December,” Dee hums.
Her father pins her with the look. “No one likes a smartass, kid.”
Mina smirks, her eyes flitting shrewdly between the pair of you. 
“All good?” she says.
You and Yoongi steal a shy glance at one another. 
“I think so,” he hums, the corner of his lips curving upwards slightly. 
When he slips his gloved fingers between yours two minutes later, with Dee skipping a few feet ahead of you belting Christmas carols and the cool touch of his locket against your heart, you know without a shadow of a doubt that he was right. This winter miracle - this strange new family you’ve built for yourselves - has finally given you something worth holding on to.
3K notes · View notes
taegularities · 8 months ago
definition of love | kth (m)
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Summary: “Burn yourself into my memory until I can’t escape you.”
When the gorgeous student from your literature class starts showing interest in you, you discover that there's much more to him than his know-it-all facade. But is this realization enough to get through your insecurities and secrets?
pairing: Taehyung x female reader
rating: 18+
genre: college!au, romance, e2f2l, angst, a lot of fluff, smut
warnings: past minor character death, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms, kissing/making out, explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), vaginal fingering, kinda handjob, breast play, unprotected sex (the reader is on the pill - use protection, people), vaginal sex, sexual tension, ass grabbing, lots of flirting, pining, light swearing, taehyung is a book nerd!!
word count: 10.5k
a/n: HELLO! this fic is part of the “Golden Gift Event” (hosted by @btsgoldnetwork​) - and is a gift for my lovely valentine @sunkissedjk​​! HAPPY LOVE DAY! you were so sweet all the time we “talked” and i’m kinda happy you gave me so much freedom :’D and i hope you like the end product! also, a huge thank you to my awesome beta readers @taetaesbaebaepsae​​, @unoriginal-username15432​​ & @voiceswithoutlips​​ (who also made this BEAUTIFUL banner for me, i loooove you!!!) - oh and: i listened to “Sea” on repeat while writing this - spot the reference ;) - OKAY, THEN LET’S DIVE IN!
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You wondered where all your impressive motivation that you’d harboured had suddenly vanished, leaving nothing in its wake but the lingering feelings of sorrow.
It felt like a pressing eternity since you’d been able to focus on one thing for longer than two endless minutes. All you were yearning for was your warm bed, for hiding yourself under your comforting sheets, your shelter that felt miles away as you sat on your seat.
You were looking out the window, zoned out as always, as you gazed into the grey sky, the approaching rain clearly evident in the way the world growled outside. Last night had tired you; after a recurring fight between your mother and you, you had decided to grab the still full box of chocolate ice cream that you’d bought a day before and withdraw to your room. It was exhausting. You always visited for one weekend a month and each time made you regret it, not long after your arrival.
Now you were feeling the toll that the sleepless nights were taking on you and you asked yourself if the following night would be easier, calmer; you wished nothing more than to fall asleep to the soothing sound of the rain, hoping that it would serve as the perfect lullaby like it always did.
“Miss Y/L/N, what are your thoughts on these arguments?” The sharp voice of your literature teacher pulled you out of your daydreams, and you turned your tired eyes to her as she pushed her glasses up her little, cute button nose.
You vaguely remembered her talking about the aspects of the relationship between Pip and Estella and how many readers didn’t interpret their love as actual love, but more as sexual tension that builds up to a point where they are ultimately forced to fall for each other.
“I don’t think I agree. Pip was already infatuated with her when they were kids. So unless they were attracted to each other in that way as children, which I strongly doubt, I’d still say it was pure love,” you finally said, trying to somehow talk around the topic until she was satisfied. She always was, though. You may have zoned out a million times, but you read so much in your free time that it’d given you the title of one of her best students by now.
“Ah, that’s good, I like that! So, basically, what you are saying is- oh, yes, Mister Kim?”
You lazily looked over to the mentioned man. Taehyung was the epitome of a perfect person. On the surface, he had everything that seemed sufficient enough to let him meet your parents. He was incredibly witty, top of his classes - which was probably the most prominent reason why he was so popular on campus - and had the looks of a god.
It didn’t seem to faze you, though. Not that you didn’t see his eye-catching and unexplainable beauty; not that you didn’t get jealous over his brain and the way he wrapped all the teachers around his finger. But something about him edged you - it might’ve been his attitude of strolling around the building as if he knew he owned it. Or maybe it was about your arguments that you had in this class particularly, although you hadn’t shared too many yet.
But each time you talked about literature, the class could be sure to hear some counter-arguments from the oh-so-glorious and super smart Kim Taehyung. You also hadn’t failed to notice that it was mostly you who he’d rile up (on purpose?) each time. There was almost no escape from him when you spoke up and, even now, you rolled your eyes.
“I just wanted to remark that it might be true that Pip loved her wholeheartedly, but what is it really that Estella felt for him? I don’t necessarily think it was love, or any kind of real affectionate feeling, for that matter,” he said, his gaze boring holes into you, not leaving you once.
You put your arm over your chair as you scoffed at him. “So, you’re saying... Dickens wrote a whole romantic novel about love, only for his readers to think all of it was one-sided?”
“Who knows about his real intentions while he was writing it? Literature can be interpreted in various ways - and my interpretation is that she clearly didn’t possess the same intense ability to feel passion as Pip did.”
You saw your teacher, along with some of your classmates, nod, growing ashamed in your seat as you felt your sense of logic begin to falter at his words. He could see that you were getting nervous, unsure about what to say, but his merciless and confident glance didn’t break, didn’t give you the chance to collect yourself.
“Well, you are right in that. Literature can indeed be perceived in various ways, so I can’t say that either of you are particularly wrong. Though, I might admit that Estella’s behaviour towards Pip was questionable at times - especially at the end of the novel. But I don’t want to ruin the book for those who still have to or want to read the ending.” Miss Park’s tone grew relaxed with each word, indicating that the lesson was finally coming to its end. You were already stuffing your books into your back bag as she said her last words and told you she’d sent out an email with the instructions for the next assignment.
Soon after, you felt a figure approach - and when you lifted your head, you were surprised to see that it was Taehyung, standing tall above you as he cleared his throat. “Your perspective to that was interesting.”
Sighing, you stood, putting your bag over your shoulder as you smiled softly. “Was it now?”
“Definitely. Aren’t such discussions there to get to know other points of views, too?”
He was probably right, but you didn’t quite feel like talking to him about this right now; just… something about his tone and expression felt off, and it made his words seem empty - as if he knew he was right. It was as if the things he said were not as genuine as he wanted them to come across.
And when you didn’t answer, he started chewing on his lower lip, wondering if he had said something you hadn’t wanted to hear. “Do you want to grab some tea?”
At his surprising offer your eyes widened a little, and you fumbled with the strap of your bag, only hesitating for a split second before you answered, “I don’t really drink tea that much. And I have some things to do today before my roommate gets back, so…”
You walked past him, making your way to the door before you felt him catch up to you within moments. He tapped your shoulder lightly, in an effort to somehow draw an explanation out of you as to why you were constantly so irritated by him. It wasn’t as if he had never noticed - he knew exactly how much you didn’t want to interact with him, and that was exactly why he wanted to get to know you even more.
Apparently, it was true that human beings always want the one thing they can’t possibly have, forced to push themselves to a limit that ultimately means their doom, if they don’t reach the goals that seem to be so far away anyway.
And right now, he felt like you were miles away, although only a hand’s difference separated the two of you. After all the times that girls had asked him out, shyly inviting him to dinner or arcades with the hungry expression that he had deciphered right away, you were still reluctant to even look at him out of your own will.
It bothered him. He wanted you to notice him. Months had passed now since you had first met in this class, yet you didn’t seem to care about initiating a conversation with him at all.
Why not?
“Y/N,” his deep guttural voice started, his eyes trying to decode your stern and tired expression intently, “do you remember the trip that’s planned for the end of next week?”
You didn’t. In all honesty, you had completely forgotten about the trip to that one historical sight, and you couldn’t even entirely recall why you were travelling all the way there. You thought you remembered the teacher telling you that she’d once written a book about star-crossed lovers from opposing social ranks who lived in a small castle.
Now that you thought about it, pieces of her explanation started coming back to you and you wondered why you had never read the story although it did sound intriguing somehow. According to your professor, the girl was a poor servant of the boy, a prince who’d fall in love with her as the story progressed - but as unfortunate circumstances separated both of them, they united after death, at a time when the castle had long been destroyed and the forest around it had withered.
As enthusiastic as she was, she was eager to show her students where she had gotten the inspiration from, claiming that she had played on the place’s grounds when she’d been little. It wasn’t even a historical sight per se, but more a destroyed building that had stood there a long, long time ago and that no one particularly cared about now.
You had completely forgotten about that. Nevertheless, you nodded. “Ah, yeah. What about that?”
“I was thinking - as I found our argument somewhat interesting… what if we both read professor Park’s book and talked about our perspectives to the couple’s love when we’re done? Like, on the day of the trip or something,” he suggested, almost running into an open door.
You chuckled a little before you contained yourself again. Not that you had much free time to indulge in a book, but you wouldn’t let Taehyung win yet again; there was a deep and urgent need in you to finally wipe this arrogant smirk off his face and if that wasn’t the perfect opportunity, then what was?
“Sure,” you answered; and the next thing you saw was his face lighting up, his mouth twitching until it finally turned upwards to form a boxy grin. “I’ll read it.”
He licked his lips before he clapped his hands once. “Perfect. So, when you’re done, just tell me!” And before you could counter with anything, he patted you on your back and left your side, his hands in the pockets of his pants as you watched him walk away.
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Since you had made this spontaneous deal with Taehyung, it seemed as if he was everywhere you set foot to. He walked past your classes while you waited for them to start or coincidentally sat only one or two tables away on a campus as large as yours, starting a conversation in one way or another each time, without an exception.
“Have you read it yet?”
“How much have you read already?”
“Should I give you a spoiler?”
“Will you go out with me? - For tea, I mean…”
The worst part was that you somehow seemed to enjoy it. You didn’t know him that well, and you were sure he would be able to get on your nerves easily if you just let him close enough. But the way he’d always smile at you and ask for your opinion on specific things was sometimes, somehow, endearing - maybe it was the fact that he actually cared about your mind and what went through it that had you hooked.
And when you saw him walk towards you as you settled in your seat in the travelling bus, you turned your gaze to the dirty window quickly, suppressing a smile as you acted oblivious to the fact that he had sat down right next to you.
“Morning,” he said, his voice unusually close. You turned to face him and saw him winking at you in the most flirty way you had seen a college student do. You greeted him with a quick nod and smile, not even bothering to ask why he wasn’t sitting with his usual friends.
“So, I’m assuming you’ve finished the book?” he finally asked, stretching his legs under the seat in front of him.
You told him yes, you had, two days ago in fact, and that you had liked the whole story as it was, except the ending which had surprisingly thrown you off guard a little - to which his eyebrows furrowed. Just as you had expected.
“What, you don’t like the aspect of them reuniting as ghosts and living - or dying? - the rest of their existence at that place?” he inquired, apparently not realising why all of this sounded so ridiculous - at least to you.
You sighed. “It’s not necessarily that. I didn’t like that they have to roam the Earth - like, not even the planet, but that one specific place, for the rest of their being. Even if you loved someone this much, would you want to spend an eternity with each other at one spot, no one else to talk to, no children, no nothing?”
“I get your point. But didn’t the girl wait for him all these years to finally be with him after he dies? Didn’t she stay in the afterlife to meet him again, because that’s what her soul demanded of her? I gathered that she would’ve found peace immediately, if she hadn’t longed for him.”
And as always, Taehyung left you speechless. You tried hard to think of a witty remark, but came up blank. After a while, you opted to drift away from the competition between you two, and instead, focus on agreeing with him, expanding his hypothesis further. “Yeah, maybe you could assume that they found their peace and satisfaction right after meeting. We don’t know what happens after the book ends.”
He looked taken aback for some reason. Instead of nodding, as one would expect when someone supported their thoughts, he licked his lips again, apparently a fixed habit of his as you had gotten to know over the past few days. “... You’re right. Might as well ask Miss Park about it.”
You smiled at him, assuming that the topic had now ended, but it seemed to occupy his mind more than you’d thought. “Novels about love are so often so complex, don’t you think? All the interpretations that authors leave open are… fascinating.”
“That’s an important quality of an author - be ambiguous, but not too much. Having freedom to analyze the story is something a lot of readers appreciate.”
Taehyung shifted in his seat a little, so he could face you properly. He fumbled with his fingers, seemingly a nervous tick he had when he started to bloom, enthusiastic about a topic that he was interested in; it was so endearing to look at, and you felt your heart skip a beat. “I just don’t understand why we need sadness so much to be able to theorize about these things. Why can’t we readers hope for a happy ending without witnessing the characters go through such tough times?”
You hadn’t noticed that exactly, as you’d always found space to come up with theories even in happy stories. But still, you understood what he meant. “Where there is hope, there is always hardship. The balance of the world.”
This time, it was him who didn’t know what to answer. Less because he felt beaten by you, but more because your words went straight to his heart. It felt like a motto to live by; he could almost see in your eyes that you weren’t scared of the hardships that you encountered in life, that you dived into them without fearing the pain that might appear.
His literature-student-brain was smoking as he looked at you, analyzing you like he did it with his beloved books. Knowing that you had strengths he didn’t know about yet, he felt more and more drawn to you, the urge to get to know you growing stronger.
He wanted to be able to read your soul that glowed more imminent and brighter to him with each word you stuttered.
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The sun was blazing and shining onto you relentlessly. You’d known how worn-down the whole place would be, but you hadn’t figured that everything would be roofless, the castle shattered to its grounds. How was it even possible to destroy a whole complex like this to its complete indecipherability?
After walking for a while in the growing noon heat, you soon noticed that Taehyung hadn’t left your side for some time now. It would’ve almost been creepy, if you had felt uncomfortable at all; in fact, that he stuck to you like glue, somehow made you feel giddy, nervous, stomach churning until you couldn’t hide the smile anymore.
“Is there anything you want to say to me?”
He shook his head, pointed a finger to your teacher instead. “Listen to what she has to say. She’s the lecturer, not me.”
Your lecturer wasn’t even talking about significant historical facts. You remembered that this day wasn’t even in any way important for your final exams and that professor Park had dragged you here for the sole purpose of promoting the book you had already bought and read.
And at some point, as you found yourself distracted by your own disruptive thoughts, mind wandering to your mother and how she had been doing this morning when you’d called her, you felt someone tug at your arm. But you didn’t need to guess twice to know who it was.
Taehyung dragged you away from the crowd that was your class, putting a finger to his lips to shush you. That was weird. It was definitely weird, right? “What do you think you’re doing, Taehyung?” you almost whispered as your eyes moved frantically, looking into the direction you were walking to somehow find out where he was intending to go.
“Just want to show you something that fits Miss Park’s book perfectly,” he said, not bothering to lower the tone of his voice at all. You disappeared behind a wall, now out of your classmates’ eyes who had long moved forwards, exploring the sight that wasn’t one at all.
It took you two minutes of gazing at broken walls, modern graffiti and inscripted promises by various wanderers to get to a spot where Taehyung finally halted his movements, head moving around as if he was looking for something. You were finally under a roof that shielded you from the heat and you leaned against the cold wall to breathe in deeply.
When Taehyung’s eyes finally settled on what he was seeking, he walked towards it without hesitation. He stretched out his arm to touch what was written there, not visible for you where you were standing. You saw a smile creep up his face as he ran his fingers along the bricks, relishing in whatever feeling was taking over his heart right now.
You were about to ask when he eventually spoke up. “It says ‘No matter who or what tries to keep us apart, I will always find you - even in death.’ Sounds exactly like the story about the lovers, doesn’t it?”
Pushing yourself off the wall, you stepped closer, inspecting the sentence yourself before you smiled. “Seems as if Miss Park has some fans.”
“Do you think these people read her book?”
“Definitely. I feel like this abandoned place can otherwise only be found, if someone lives nearby and stumbles across it, like Miss Park did. And she mentioned this exact castle - or what’s left of it - in her author’s note.”
He inhaled and exhaled deeply before he looked at you. “I believe that people like these define love. Believing in each other so much that they fight for their love, even after they’re gone.”
“I’m not sure if wanting to love someone even in death is the only indicator for true love… or the definition of it.” You raised your hand, too, touched the inscription exactly where Taehyung’s hand had been a moment ago.
He raised an eyebrow at you, licking his lips again. “Yeah? Well, what is then?”
You laughed at his question. You weren’t sure; you hadn’t experienced love in its truest form yet and couldn’t quite express what it meant or could mean to you. The only type of affection you’d ever felt was that from your parents, but after your father’s death, even that had vanished.
“I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I find out.”
“You’ve never loved anyone before?” he asked, a surprised look taking over his beautiful face.
“Not in that sense, no… I think,” you muttered, lost in the words that were written on the bricks. The sentence Taehyung had read to you wasn’t the only one here. There were several things you could spot and most of them seemed to relate to each other.
We’re tragic, but not doomed.
Burn yourself into my memory until I can’t escape you.
These were only some of various confessions that made your heart flutter. Despite the fact that you didn’t exactly have an idea of how to define love, you could feel that the passion this couple - or these couples - had shared, or still shared, was intense, deep, fierce. Somehow, you felt the energy seeping through the ink as you touched it gently, careful not to smear it - then again, you figured it had dried enough to stay here for a while.
By now, Taehyung had walked up and stopped next to you; as his arm grazed yours, your breath hitched slightly, and you widened your eyes at your own reaction. This proximity shouldn’t have made you this nervous, right? It was Taehyung. Taehyung from your literature class, the college genius and arrogant smartass who-
“I shouldn’t write these words down. They will never do you justice,” he read aloud, now directly behind you, and you felt his warm breath against your face. And as your heart threatened to burst any second, you suddenly stepped away, away from the lovers’ words, away from the wall, away from him.
You didn’t get very far; before you could put a safe distance between him and yourself, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you back to him. You gasped at his ministrations, suddenly hyper aware of how alone you both were right now. He was leaning against the wall now, not letting his grip on you loose as he stared into the deepest depths of your eyes.
“Breathe, Y/N,” he said before a grin decorated his face. You hadn’t realized you were even holding your breath, and exhaled deeply. “What if I told you that I finished this book weeks ago?”
You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Whatever you’d thought he would tell you or do to you, it wasn’t this - this was a tad more disappointing. “You did?”
He nodded as he brought your hand to his chest, pulling you in just a little, but too much for your racing heart. “I love talking to you about these things,” he admitted, suddenly bringing his lips closer to your ear as he whispered his next words, “and frankly, all our other classmates are idiots.”
You chuckled nervously. “And I’m not?”
“You? No way,” he said, looking at your profile, “breathe.”
He pulled back again and released your hand, making you automatically take a few steps back nervously - but to no avail. Soon, he had you in his grip again, twirling you around to press you into the wall with a gentle, soft force. His thumb came up to ghost over your jaw, and his touch caused a strange pressure in your stomach that had you on the brink of losing your mind. This should’ve all been weird - why did you like it so much?
“Hmm?” he hummed, not removing his eyes from your mouth as his fingers wandered to your lower lip.
“What are you doing?” Your breathing was uneven, and you struggled to focus - he noticed that, trying his hardest not to break out into a proud smirk.
He had found you interesting for so long now, had wanted to get close to you, pined over you for months, and now that he was touching you, he knew he had waited for this since he had heard you speak in class for the first time. Unlike some of his friends, who’d praised your physical features on multiple occasions, he was first and foremost impressed by your mind.
There was no doubt that you were beautiful; but he felt attracted to your brain, your attitude, your personality, the whole of you.
“Tell me to stop.”
“What?” you asked, unable to think, trying your hardest to not sink to your knees.
“This,” he murmured as he came a little closer, the other hand that was not on your face, settling on your bare arm, “tell me to stop.”
You tried - but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to. No words could be uttered, no words escaped you; not even the plea to finally kiss you, and you felt like he knew all of this. In his deep, dark, sparkling and hooded eyes you could clearly see that he knew what he was doing.
“You can’t.” It was a statement - not a question. You didn’t answer. “Then go out with me.”
His words hit you unexpectedly, a warm and dizzying feeling building up in your chest, and you tried so hard not to falter. To not give in. To not have him deal with your struggles and your life.
But you did. You did falter.
“Okay,” you repeated, nodding slightly as his eyes shot up to meet yours.
Then, suddenly, embarrassingly, he let go, walking a few steps back to eye your flabbergasted state. “Okay. Great. Now, let’s go back to the group before they report us as missing.”
You took a strand of your hair between your fingers, currently unable to look at him directly. “How did you find this specific spot, anyway?”
“Was roaming the place a little in our break and figured you’d like it.”
As you walked back to your classmates, soon finding them and realizing that literally no one had missed you, you chuckled slightly at the fact that yes - you had liked it. All of it.
And it made you nervous.
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Albeit his invitation to go out with him, he didn’t mention the upcoming date for the whole of the following week and you grew more and more tense with each time you saw him pass by you or approach you to talk about something random. It was almost as if he tried to put you on edge, having your stomach turn and churn every time he talked to you about anything but the date.
There were some conversations about other books you both liked - or disliked - and hobbies that you hadn’t known the other was talented in. Apparently, Taehyung was into photography; not much of a surprise, given the fact that he had the word cultivated written clearly on his forehead. He told you that he liked to take pictures of landscapes and cities, but beside that, he also loved capturing random moments with his friends and loved ones.
“I can schedule a photoshoot with you sometime, if you want,” he offered, having you all flustered, because you’d never been someone who enjoyed her pictures being taken much.
“I’m not sure. I’m not good at poses,” you answered as you took a bite of your dry sandwich.
He shook his head, clearly not impressed by your lame argument. “That’s what I’m here for. I’d tell you what to do and you’d just have to look good, that’s all. And that you do everyday.”
Your skin tingled at his comments, and you noticed how much of a routine these remarks had become. He’d compliment you whenever he could, while you struggled to find out if he was flirting or just simply being nice to you. But then again, he had asked you out - and despite that, you still hadn’t forgotten the short, intense moment that had occured at the ruins days ago.
In fact, you often stared at your ceiling at night, unable to fall asleep, much to your chagrin. A lot of times when you closed your eyes, you dreamed of back then and of what more could’ve happened, always waking up when he’d finally press his full, beautiful lips on yours. In your dreams, he tasted sweet, intoxicating, like spring and hope.
But in reality, you hadn’t even settled for a day to meet up to do whatever he wanted to do. At least until now, until he turned to you. 
“You agreed to go out with me,” he simply declared, his voice deep and almost nonchalant, as if he was just casually mentioning some side fact; it wasn’t like you’d been waiting for this all week as you hung out with him everyday.
“Yeah. I suppose I did.”
“So, I waited before telling you this - but an amusement park is opening up tonight and I’d like to take you there. If you like things like these, I mean.”
“Tonight, you say? Sure.” You gave him a beautiful smile before you looked down to your lunch again, trying not to show how the heat was creeping up your face, how flustered you’d gotten - but he could tell.
He could always tell.
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The crowd was insane - you were surprised that you hadn’t known about the opening of this amusement park until Taehyung had mentioned it, as there were so many guests that you hardly found a spot to stand. It was difficult to even get a ticket to a ride, and as you stood in the various lines, you talked about how loud it was here, both agreeing that, were the activities not as much fun as they were, you would’ve probably gone to grab some dinner in a random restaurant nearby.
One hour later and you found yourself sitting on a bench; he was patting your back to calm you down after your idiotic ass had decided to eat a hot dog right before the most dangerous of all rides that turned and swirled and made, as it’d felt, a hundred loops.
“I told you not to eat until we’re done, Y/N,” Taehyung said, laughing as he watched your pale face, you leaning back, eyes closed in misery. He stood, tugging at your hand and you looked up at him. “I’ll bring you home.”
“No, I-” you started, but you were quickly interrupted when you felt your phone vibrate between your palms. As you looked at the name, you almost didn’t pick up, rolling your eyes before stuffing the phone into your bag again; only to rethink your choice for a moment, apologizing to Taehyung and taking it out again to answer.
“Hi, Mom.” You stood up to walk away from Taehyung a bit - if this was going to turn into some kind of messy drama, you didn’t want him to be in a proximity close enough to witness your whole conversation. “What’s up? How are you?”
She didn’t answer for a second, and you wondered if she was even still there before she cleared her throat dramatically. Her voice was hoarse, used, tired, drowning in the drunken state that she was obviously in. “Y/N.”
“Mom. What’s wrong?”
“I need something from you,” she said, and your heart started to thump against your chest as you awaited her request, fearing that she was falling ill again.
“I used up all my reservoir of the alcohol I had. Please, I can barely move without the world spinning. Can you come here and bring me some more? I need to just - pass out for today.”
You swallowed hard, not believing that she would call you just to ask if you could poison her with some more of her drug; to ask you to drive for one hour and a half, just to throw you out again after potential harsh words.
“No,” you answered firmly - you wouldn’t give in to her bullshit, not this time.
“What do you mean by no, you brat?” She was getting angry; you could hear it in the way her words became blurred, almost indecipherable, but you didn’t care.
“I won’t fucking bring you your goddamn alcohol. Go to bed and sleep, drink some water and calm yourself down!” you almost yelled, growing impatient, too, your heart racing in your chest as your blood pressure heightened.
You heard her gasp sharply before she stuttered until she could finally form a coherent sentence. “You fucking bitch. I didn’t raise you to talk back like that!”
You looked over your shoulder. Taehyung raised his head, smiling at you before he saw the concern in your face and putting his phone back into his pockets as he stood up to walk up to you. Meanwhile, your mother was still uttering obscene insults at you, words that you should’ve been used to by now. But it was different in this moment.
This evening had passed with so much laughter and giggles, excessive amounts of adrenaline and growing feelings - you couldn’t understand what you’d done to deserve this; why it was so hard for her to just let you live for once.
When a wet drop landed on your bare collarbone, you realized that you had started crying, the goddamn tears streaming down your face, although you had tried to contain yourself so hard. You felt Taehyung’s hand on your back, patting it again, but differently this time than a few minutes ago. You inhaled a deep breath as you spoke into your phone, interrupting your raging mother who just wouldn’t stop.
“I can’t talk right now, Mom. I’m busy.”
“Wha- are you crying now? What the fuck are you crying for, you-”
You hung up. That was honestly all you could and would take, and you’d heard enough. You dried your tears quickly, getting yourself together as you cleared your throat and looked at Taehyung’s worried and silent face. You gave him a reassuring smile before you said, “you’re right. I should probably head home.”
He just nodded, putting a comforting arm softly around your shoulders as he walked beside you. Approaching your home, you were tempted to tell him to just go home, that he didn’t need to accompany you all the way - but something told you that he wouldn’t listen to you anyway. And as minutes passed, your mind shifted back to your mother.
You were wondering if she was okay. Being this drunk was dangerous, especially for someone like her who drowned her sorrows and pain in that deadly liquid almost every night, not knowing how else to cope with your father’s death - even after all the years that had passed.
But you couldn’t leave her alone; you couldn’t drive all the way over to her either. You didn’t have the time.
You took out your phone again, sniffing as you hastily scrolled down to find the number of one of your highschool friends. You knew she still lived near your house and could help you out. It didn’t need a lot of long-stretched words; you pleaded with her to stay the night and take care of your mother - she knew she was always welcome at your house, and unlike yourself, she would never hear a single bad word uttered out of your mother’s mouth that was targeted at her.
Taehyung was still holding you without saying anything. He didn’t know what. Ask you what was wrong? He could, but if you’d wanted to, then you would’ve spoken up already, right? No - he could cheer you up. Or at least try to.
“Do you want me to come up with you? We could watch something, or just talk,” he suggested, his voice hesitant and his words careful.
Swimming in your misery, you had almost forgotten what joy he had brought you today. Almost forgotten how genuine his touch on your shoulder, his expression of concern was. And as you found yourself overwhelmed with hate yet affection for your mother, something in you snapped enough to admit that Taehyung was all you wanted with you at this moment.
“You can. I mean, I - you don’t have to, I’d be fine, but… if you want to, you can.”
He grinned at you - that one boxy grin that always reached his dreamy eyes, brightening up the darkest of nights. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to.”
He let you go, brushed his fingers through his dark, soft hair as you entered your dorm room. You figured it was late enough for your early bird of a roommate to have fallen asleep, so you tried not to be too loud as you came in, bringing Taehyung a glass of water, and then - surprisingly brave of you - deciding to settle in your room to have your privacy, without risking to wake up your friend in the next room.
You both settled on your bed, crawling under your thin blanket, despite the pressing heat. You had put a pizza in the oven that you were chewing on now, watching a Disney movie on your laptop that laid on your lap while Taehyung contemplated whether it was okay to pull you close to him or not. It had been so easy a week ago; brushing the skin of your face with his fingers and muttering tempting words to you felt difficult now, although there was nothing more that he wanted than to enclose you in his embrace, be your shelter in a moment like this.
Despite his usual confidence, you couldn’t understand what was holding him back now. Although you hadn’t known each other properly until two weeks ago, he felt like an intimate person in your life, consuming more and more of your thoughts as the days went by and having you look forward to the next day when you could, again, spend lunch time with him and talk to him about the most random aspects of the universe and beyond.
And when nothing happened for the next thirty minutes, you shifted, getting closer to him as you put your head on his shoulder. You didn’t see the smile appear widely on his ethereal face. Didn’t hear the way his heart hammered against his ribs violently until the sound consumed his ears. You didn’t know about the effect you had on him.
His arm snaked around your shoulders and his fingers gently settled on your bare arm. When he noticed that you didn’t protest, he dug his nails deeper into your flesh, making you breathe out sharply as he pulled you closer to him. You felt his lips ghosting over your hair, and yourself dozing off slightly.
At some point you just sat there, watching, but not watching the movie, the pictures becoming blurred motions in front of your eyes. His fingers had found your arm, stroking it until you felt relaxed enough to close your eyes and calm your breath that had somehow fastened; on one hand stressed because of the thought that revolved around your mother, and on the other hand growing nervous as you inhaled the soft cinnamon scent of the man who was holding you gently, carefully.
When you woke up - apparently you had eventually fallen asleep - your head was resting on his chest; he was still here, still beside you. He had placed your laptop on the night table and pulled the blanket over both of you, holding you tightly, making sure you didn’t fall apart - not tonight.
You shifted a little, carefully sitting up and noticing that you were still wearing your dress. As you fumbled with the hem of it to pull it down a bit, you heard him groan softly, and as you looked down at him, he had opened his eyes and was rubbing them with the back of his hand.
“Hey, are you okay?” He sat up instantly, looking at your tired face while your hands tried to smoothen your hair until you reckoned you didn’t look like a scarecrow anymore.
“I am,” you answered, putting the strap of your dress back onto your shoulder, “why didn’t you go home? Sleeping in jeans must be terrible.”
He shrugged, putting a strand of hair out of your face as he yawned into his other hand. “I didn’t want to leave you alone like this.”
You nodded, smiling at him gratefully. That’s what you’d thought. It was incredible that he was fond of you enough to stay the night, to look out for you, to make sure you didn’t slip again, didn’t cry all night. You didn’t know if it was your exhaustion or affection towards him, but the next words came out easily.
“Can we do that again?”
You didn’t have to spell it out; he knew. He knew and consequently opened his arms for you to settle into him again, pulling you both down, heads falling onto the big pillow as you pressed your torso against his chest.
Although you were fairly tired, you felt like you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anymore. Not now that you knew he was this close, his heart against yours, his opal eyes sunk in yours; there was no way you’d miss even a moment of him staring at you like this.
“Are you really okay?” he asked, his breath warm against your face as his hand grazed your back. “You got me worried today.”
You swallowed before you answered, hesitant at first, “I think I’m fine. Just concerned. Mom has this drinking habit, and I’ve tried to deal with her, but I’m just… tired.”
He nodded in affirmation as if he knew exactly what your mother was going through. “Maybe you need to sit down with her when she’s sober and talk through it all.”
“She’s never sober.” You briefly closed your eyes when he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, grazing over your cheeks slightly before he brought his hand to the nape of your neck.
“One day she will be. She’s your mother, and she loves you. There will definitely come a time when she’ll be willing to talk. Just ask her.” He was whispering by now, and you had a hard time to even comprehend what he was saying, your mind way too focused on his scent, on his eyes, on his subtle touches.
“...Yeah,” you said, eyes wandering down his nose and cheeks until they settled on his beautiful, parted lips.
“Y/N?” he murmured, his fingers still caressing the skin on your neck as he pulled you in closer, just a little, almost not noticeable.
“I just want you to know… that I’m here. Anytime.”
Anytime. Your breath became unsteady, everything in you longing for him to finally press his lips against yours, your skin lighting up where he touched you. And when the tips of your noses finally met, his mouth almost on yours, you closed your eyes, welcoming the moment that was about to come, in three, two, one…
And then you were kissing.
He kissed you tenderly, softly, almost as if he was memorizing each second your lips moved against his. As his fingers traced the skin on your neck, the heat in your cheeks, the fabric of your clothes, you wondered how you’d managed to hold yourself back this long, how you’d gone without tasting the sweetness of the tongue that was making its way through to meet yours.
You wrapped your leg around his waist, your dress sliding up as his grip on you tightened. Your nails bore themselves into his shoulder blades and you were almost scared you were hurting him before he let out a small whimper. No, he was enjoying it.
You felt him and yourself grow needy slowly, the kiss becoming harder, faster, your whole body moving against each other as you moaned quietly. Then, suddenly, he rolled over you, his hands settling on each side of your head as he hovered above you, your mouths still not getting enough of the passion that was flowing through you like electricity.
Almost absent mindedly, he pulled the straps of your dress down again, just stopping for a moment as he gauged your reaction. And when he was sure you were okay with this, he leaned in to kiss you again while his hand hooked your leg around him, stroking the flesh up to your thighs.
He softly nibbled at your lower lip as he indulged in your little sounds, eager to give himself to you completely. He couldn’t get enough of this thought - the girl he had been pining over for months was now under him, her hands pulling up his shirt, kissing him like she was desperate for him.
He let you take off his shirt, impatient, tongue and teeth crashing against yours again as soon as his torso was bare. He slid your dress even higher, bringing it up to your breasts before he lifted you up a little in order to pull it over your head in a smooth motion.
“I’ll help you cheer up,” Taehyung declared as he pulled away, and you laughed, a hearty, soft, beautiful laugh that forced him to join, his heart racing at the sight of you laying there, endearing, beautiful, just perfect.
“Do that,” you said, pulling his face to yours again and tracing his lower lip with your tongue. He pressed his hips against yours, and by now you could clearly feel the hardness against your core. You reached down to open his pants, teasingly slow until he gently pulled your hands away to do it himself.
Slipping out of his jeans, his fingers reached your back, fumbling with your bra until he opened and then threw it aside. Only in your underpants now, you both grinded against each other, you arching your back and him moving his hips as he kissed your neck, nibbling on your sensitive skin and then smoothing it with his delicate tongue.
His hands cupped one of your soft breasts, massaging it while he moved his mouth to your other nipple, sucking and licking it as you became a moaning mess under him. You didn’t care about the fact that it could’ve woken up your roommate; she’d only meet you the next morning and wiggle her eyebrows suggestively.
You tried to pull his shorts down, seeking release, seeking anything more than just the feeling of him through your clothes. He smiled against your skin and helped you to get out of them, finding the way you were struggling to concentrate somehow adorable. In one unexpected movement he freed you of your damp panties too, leaning back as he speechlessly eyed your whole body.
“You’re…” he started, only to trail off as he got caught in the perfect, endless dream that was you.
“I am..?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
You chuckled, wrapping your legs around him again to pull him closer, his length pressing against your clit, and you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t think so. But I’ll gladly let you think that.”
He smiled, but instead of giving in to kiss you, he moved his body down, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your torso as he went, until he reached your mons pubis. He spread your legs slowly yet hungrily, bringing his face close enough that you could feel him breathing against your wetness.
He leaned forward, only touching your cunt with the tip of his tongue to tease you a little. And when you grabbed his hair impatiently, pushing him into you, he laughed, causing you to giggle with him; but he soon silenced you by licking a hot stripe against your aching core, sinking into you right after as if you were his last meal on earth.
One of his hands released the thigh he was holding to circle your clit slowly with his fingers, a stark contrast to how intensely he was eating you out just inches away from your sensitive bud. And then, he switched, looking at your lustful expression as he sunk two fingers into you, moving them in and out at a delicate pace while his lips sucked on your bundle of nerves. All of this while never leaving you out of his sight.
“Taehy-” you started, but then he crooked his fingers, hitting a spot that sent you into an almost spiritual state. And then, you laughed. “I was trying to speak here…”
“Tell me to stop,” he said, repeating the exact same words he had uttered to you just a week ago. His deep voice and moans against your cunt sent vibrations through your body, and you took a shaky breath before you finally let go, grabbing the sheets under you as you sat up.
He watched your movements intently, letting you push him down onto his back, straddle his legs and grab his cock. You swept your hair to one side as you began stroking his hardness, mouth coming down to lick at the leaking tip, drawing beautiful moans out of him as he threw his head back in sheer pleasure.
He was a little too big to fit him into your mouth wholly; but when you wrapped your lips around him and took him in deeper, your hand took care of everything that your mouth wouldn’t take - and seemingly, this trick did it for him, too.
Sucking his cock was heavenly; not just for him, but also for you. You relished in the sounds that were escaping his throat, his uncontrolled movements that had him on edge, the way his hand sank into your hair tightly, lightly tugging at it.
God, his voice was so deep. He was so beautiful, so perfect.
You continued sucking him to the point he became louder, and eventually, he whined, “stop, stop, stop! Y/N, no more.”
You knew why. His legs had started trembling, his breath was hitched and his cock twitched in your mouth - he was close, but he didn’t want to finish just yet. So instead of keeping up your ministrations, you sat up straight, shifting your body, so you could align your entrance with his throbbing, reddened cock. You rubbed yourself against him for maximum effect until he gripped your waist to still you.
"Do it," he ordered, his hooded eyes darkened beyond belief. You lifted yourself, grabbing his cock as you slowly pressed the tip into you your opening before you sank down on him, carefully, trying to adjust to his length that was just right to not hurt you.
He let out a breathy moan, his hands still on your waist as he tried hard not to thrust up, giving you the chance to settle enough to start whenever you felt ready. He filled you up perfectly - the stretch was breathtaking, every inch that entered you sending shivers down your spine as you looked down to him.
Then, you started to move your hips, starting at a slow and passionate pace that had him close his eyes, his gaze leaving your body for the first time since you had sat down on him. You drowned in the way he was feeling peak ecstatic, enjoying every second he spent with you, every touch you provided him with.
And then his hands wandered up your body, first to your breasts to squeeze them, then snaking around you to settle on your back and pull you down to him. He opened his eyes again, looking at you, your lips brushing against each other's, but not quite kissing yet. You both moaned into the other's mouth, and you whimpered when you felt his hips thrust up to meet your movements, filling you up deeply, entirely.
For a while, the room was filled with lewd and lustful sounds as he picked up the pace, fucking you harder, faster, nibbling at the shell of your ear as goosebumps formed on your arms, his large hands grabbing your ass firmly and stretching out the cheeks deliciously. Then, he sat up, dragging you with him, and you immediately wrapped your legs around him again, half expecting that he was going to push you onto your back to continue like that.
But he didn't - instead, he stopped for a moment, glancing into your tired eyes. Sweat trickled down his temple, and you wiped his damp hair out of his forehead before resting your hand on his cheek that he leaned into. You both didn't exchange a lot of words; the way you looked at each other and the close proximity between you said more than you both could've through spoken actions.
Taehyung kissed you again, just for a second, almost chaste as his fingers explored the skin of your back, coming up to your hair. He pulled you in, almost as if hugging you - or hugging you indeed? -, making your head rest on his shoulder.
You bit into it when you felt him start to move again; now that you both were sitting up, his cock was inside you completely, reaching the perfect spot over and over again as you melted into him. He left open mouthed kisses on your neck, his tongue flicking over the blossoming marks that were already becoming visible, pulling you impossibly close to him.
“Taehyung,” you whispered into his ear, lost at words, just his name on your tongue, the passion burning up your body inside and outside. His pelvic bone rubbing against your clit, his perfect, planned thrusts, his hands on your body, the sounds he breathed right into your ear - everything added together and multiplied with the passion between you by a thousand brought you so close to your release that you dug your nails into his flesh again, leaving new bruises that had him whine in pleasure.
“Y/N,” he called, and you looked at him, all your light make-up surely ruined under your eyes. He swiped at it with his thumb, licking his lips as he put his forehead against yours. “You can let go, baby.”
You could let go - of everything, you thought. Of the negative thoughts, your worries, the hate, the insecurities. Of everything that kept you up at night, everything that ever brought tears in your eyes. You noticed that you had let go of most of these things since Taehyung had suddenly entered your life, although he had always been here, in your reach, in front of your eyes.
Then, he did push you down, your back hitting the mattress as he raised your legs higher, continuing to fuck into you in an almost merciless speed now. Your breaths melded as he came closer, your sounds becoming one, his hair grazing your forehead as he called your name, told you how perfect and gorgeous you were, how he had waited for this moment.
“I’ll take care of you, Y/N,” he told you, setting you on fire with each glance his dreamy eyes gave you, completely lost in you. The expression was almost not one of someone who’d started to get to know you just some time ago; it was of someone who had always admired you from far away. Someone who would look at you and get mesmerized by you, someone who would read a book and wonder what your thoughts about it would be. 
And as he reached down to massage your clit, everything in you exploded like a supernova within seconds as you arched your back and pressed your head against the soft pillow, giving him easy access to your neck.
He whispered more promises into your skin, ones that made you believe him, trust him. Maybe it was the fact that he was one of the brightest souls you had ever met, or maybe it was his ability to feel emotions more intense and realer than anyone else you knew - but you believed every word he said.
As he went on for a few more thrusts, chasing his own high, you held onto these vows, your mind empty, heart thumping and swelling at the thought of this man sticking by your side. How did it only take you two weeks to become this infatuated with him? Was it because you had, despite his seeming arrogance, always admired his intellect, his confidence, his quietness and humility in class, although he could’ve used his popularity in various ways?
Whatever it was - your mind was too occupied to figure this out right now. You felt him come undone with a deep moan, your name on his tongue as his hot cum shot through you. He tried his best not to collapse on you and shifted his weight on his elbows, looking at you as his eyes softened, the lustful darkness becoming a burning ember, liquid velvet, a tempestuous ocean whose gentle waves seemed to carry you away.
“You’re so beautiful,” you told him, your fingers touching his panting mouth softly. You pulled him in for a kiss, one that he put all his affection in, showing you just how special you were.
And as he pulled away, he chuckled a little, bumping his nose against yours. “Have you seen yourself?”
You rolled your eyes. There was no way you were looking anyhow good right now; your hair was disheveled, your make-up smeared and your skin all sweaty. “You’re blinded.”
“Blinded by what?” He grinned at you. He knew what you meant, but he wanted to hear you say it.
What was it? Love? No, not yet.
“By the fact that you like me,” you said, half confidently, half scared that he might stand up and leave awkwardly. And he did, in fact, not answer anything, only smiled at you. You furrowed your eyebrows. “Taehyung?”
“Yeah?” He kept grinning as he pulled out, groaning slightly and laying down beside you. His breathing had steadied a little and he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around you. He brought his mouth to your hair to give you a kiss before he asked again, “yeah? What is it?”
“Are you not going to say anything? It’s kinda… awkward for me.”
He laughed, giving your body a squeeze as he closed his eyes. “I do like you. I thought I made this very clear in the last few hours since we arrived here.”
“I think you might have,” you said, smiling into his chest.
Was this the definition of what characters felt in romantic novels?
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A month and a half later
Taehyung was waiting for you outside. The big, old building in the shady, weird neighbourhood hadn’t scared him off - rather than that, he’d insisted even more to stay here and wait until you were done with what you had come here for.
It had taken so many conversations, phone calls and convincing words to encourage you to finally drive over here to talk to the mess that your mother was, and now you’d obliged, realizing that there would come a day when you would not be able to make things right anymore.
When you left the shabby complex, still not familiar with the new place your mother had decided to settle in, Taehyung was reading a short novel, one that had come out not long ago. And when you opened the door, he smiled widely, noticing how your expression was not demotivated and grumpy at all - instead, you looked like you were happy, despite the redness in your eyes.
“How did it go?” he asked immediately, closing the book and intertwining his long fingers with yours.
“Surprisingly well. She was sober,” you said, grinning, heart swelling at the thought that you had finally sorted everything out with her, “she was sober, Tae. And she said, she’ll go to rehab and try to get better. She even told me she loved me!”
You felt your eyes sting again and brought your fingers up to wipe away a tear before it could escape to roll down your cheek. At the sight of you, Taehyung’s chest heated up, and he remembered how this happiness was the reason he had put his heart in your palms, ready to let you do whatever you deemed fit with it.
“I’m so happy to hear that, baby. I told you it’s worth a try,” he said, bringing your knuckles to his lips to press soft kisses on them. “I’m so, so glad you’re happy.”
“I am. I really am.”
“You know what’s left now?”
You raised your eyebrow in question before he answered. “Introducing your boyfriend to your mom.”
“Patience, grasshoper. She just started to like me again!”
He slapped your forehead, and you flinched, although you had barely felt it. “She’s always loved you, you idiot. What is it with you still not understanding the concept of love?”
You smiled. The everlasting joke had never died between you; he’d always tease you about this, although he knew how full your heart was for everyone around you, how much you loved your mother, what you felt for him.
And he deserved your affection, too. In the last two months, he had shown you nothing but support, kindness and passion. Yes, admittedly, you were still kind of in your honeymoon phase, but the way he handled you and your outbursts gave you the feeling he was the person that’d stick with you.
He proved this not only with small gestures, lovely surprises and sweet promises that he kept, but also with every conversation you’d have about your past, the death of your father, the hell you had gone through after that. Taehyung just… always seemed to know what to say.
You tried to give him all that back, but always felt like it would never do his gracious heart justice. And while you both had not yet used the word love, especially given the fact how early in your relationship you were, a feeling very similar to this seemed to always linger on your tongues. It almost felt like the beginning of it, the start of falling into the depths of what authors described on their pages, in their words and in their metaphors.
“I knew it would work out. I was sitting here and hoping all the time to not see you come out depressed,” Taehyung said, sighing.
“Sounds like you,” you told him, booping his nose to make him smile, “but I do feel like it’s going to be hard. We have a rocky path ahead of us.”
Then, he laughed, remembering words you had once said to him, only to give them back to you now as reassurance. “Where there is hope, there is always hardship.”
You laughed and then you knew for sure.
This was definitely the definition of what felt like love.
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If you liked the story, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment/sending an ask! I always love hearing from you! <3
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kimvvantae · 3 months ago
the misadventures list; 1 (m)
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➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.
pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader
genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au
warnings: explicit sexual content in future chapters. coarse language. me trying to be funny i guess
rating: 18+
word count: 6k
A/N: so excited to finally share this one with you guys!! i really needed to write something lighthearted after so much angst (even tho yall know me so there's definitely gonna be a lil bit of angst in the future). feedback is always much appreciated!
let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!
➜  Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!
« playlist »
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Working in a 24h convenience store is quite the experience.
Despair leads humans to take drastic decisions. Living alone as a college student in a big city is in itself a situation of despair - especially if you have no family to help you out with the bills and not enough professional experience to get a decent job. So, when you saw the rent coming just around the corner and you had a spectacular amount of $15 in your bank account, you accepted the first job offer that appeared in front of you.
Yes. You accepted the night shift.
Does it mean that you barely sleep these days and you feel that your brain is going to actually melt? Yes. But at least the salary is a little higher than your last job and the store is two blocks away from your apartment.
Also, sometimes you end up witnessing interesting things.
The store is pretty empty most of the time - which means that you just sit behind the cashier counter for hours straight trying not to die of boredom. You can study a lot, which is good, but sometimes, when you already did everything you had to do - from organizing items on shelves back and forth to wiping the floor twice or feeding the dog that always passes by around 2AM -, you have no choice but sit there and question your life choices.
When customers do come, though, it's usually the same type of people. You have already memorized the pattern of customers: sad college students that come to buy dinner (usually noodles. Delicious, cheap and unhealthy. What else could a broke young adult want?), or drunk college students that come after leaving clubs to buy some snacks, or drunk and sad college students that don't have that many friends to go out with, so they buy beer, eat noodles and cry alone in their respective apartments/dorms. You somehow relate to all of them.
From time to time, some people out of the pattern show up, though. There was that homeless man that once came in to simply buy Oreo but you ended up discussing the consequences of the 2008 financial crisis for about forty minutes (a really smart man, that one). There was also that time when a woman walked in wearing nothing but lingerie and bunny ears; she bought some condensed milk, called you pretty and left (you never blushed so hard in your life). Or that time you had to chase a 12 year old down the street holding a baseball bat because he tried to steal a vodka bottle (fortunately, you didn't need to actually beat him up. The little devil threw the bottle and ran away while people stared at you like you were crazy). Oh, let's not forget that time a group of people with questionable fashion sense tried to lure you into becoming a part of their cult (something about aliens and illuminati. That time you got actually scared).
After three months of working here, you got convinced that this small convenience store is actually an anomaly in space-time. A place where dimensions merge. Universal rules don't apply here. One day a talking polar bear might just walk in to buy Coca-Cola and you'll be like oh, that's neat.
And tonight is one of those nights when the matrix seems to fail and a weird ass dude shows up.
It's true that you heard the front door open a few minutes ago; you simply lifted your head from behind the counter, trying to peek at them, but the person disappeared behind the shelves quickly. Because you were too focused on highlighting your textbook, you didn't really pay mind to whoever it was. After around ten minutes, you felt your body itching and your vision blurring after so much reading (tax law is one of your least favorite subjects) and decided to reorganize the items on the snacks section once again.
That's kind of how it went for around four minutes.
Then you notice that there is an actual person sitting on the floor behind the refrigerators.
You gasp.
The person turns his head to look at you.
The first thing you notice is the unusual silver hair. The second thing is the fact that he's holding two phones in his hands. The third thing is the Rolex on his right wrist.
The fourth thing is the smile he opens as he sees you - an actual smile, so big that his eyes almost completely close.
"Hi!" he says in a happy voice. As if it's completely normal of him to be sitting on the floor of a store, knees close to his chest, for almost twenty minutes.
You immediately step back, ready to run the fuck out if you need to, your heart still beating rapidly from the scare.
"May I help you, sir?" you ask, unable to not scowl at him.
He's still smiling. He shakes his head. His hair and earrings sway as he does. "No, thank you! I'm fine. Just… sitting here." he laughs. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. I'm definitely not a weirdo. I'm just…" one of the phones in his hand starts ringing. He clicks his tongue and frowns. "Wait a second."
He slams it on the floor.
Like. Literally fucking slams it.
And steps on it a couple of times with the back of his foot until you hear the noise of glass shattering. When the screen doesn't turn on anymore, he sighs in relief.
"Anyways, as I was saying… I'm not a weirdo." he smiles again. You step back. "It's just that I had a fight with my brother and all… you know how siblings are, right?"
You don't reply. He doesn't seem to notice how you look at him as if he's indeed the weirdest dude in the world - or he's simply too good at ignoring it.
"Oh, so you're an only child, I guess? Well, lucky you." He laughs again. It also seems that he's talking to the voices in his head. "I'm actually hiding here for a while. So don't mind me! Really, I'm just gonna sit here for thirty more minutes until it's safe to go outside again."
And he smiles prettily once more.
You just stand there, staring at him like he's got a second head, for long seconds. His smile doesn't falter. His cheeks might be hurting at this point.
"Your brother isn't a gang leader or something, right?" is the first thing you ask. His eyes widen and he quickly waves his hands dismissively.
"No! Gosh, of course not," he laughs again. "He's just… kinda tall."
You stare at him for a few more moments.
Well, it's not as if he's committing a crime anyway. It also looks like he's being honest. So you just shrug.
(After seeing so many strange people during the night shift, very little things surprise you anymore).
Before you can say anything, though, you see him widening his eyes as he spots something behind you.
"Shit!" he exclaims before, once again, disappearing behind the refrigerator - he comes so close to the wall and hugs his legs so tightly against his chest that he might as well become a ball.
Confused, you look back to the glass front door - just in time to see a man walk in.
It honestly looks like one of those stupid drama scenes.
He's tall. Really tall. Wears a black long coat that looks very expensive, has pitch black hair styled to the side and a suit that also looks very expensive.
You can almost imagine the slow-mo camera, the pink filter and the romantic drama OST playing in your head.
To say that you're starstruck is an understatement.
The only thing that kind of kills the moment is his expression of pure fury.
The man looks around, tip-toeing to have a better view of the entire store (not that he needed to tip toe to have a better view). He walks to the cleaning products aisle with heavy steps, seemingly in search of someone.
Then, it hits you.
He's just… kinda tall.
If he turns the corner, he'll definitely see the weirdo sitting on the floor behind the fridge.
Maybe it's compassion. Maybe it's the fact that the man is indeed very tall and looks like he could break the other guy in two. Maybe it is God whispering in your ears, saying, my child, if you don't intervene, that poor weirdo will probably show up on the news as a murder victim.
You don't know what it is, but you end up quickly following him to the other corridor.
"Excuse me, may I help you?" you say, forcing a smile.
He stops and turns around - just before turning the corner and coming face-to-face with his prey.
"Oh." Gosh. He's even better from up close. "No, thank you. I'm just…" He tilts his head and caresses the back of his neck, stepping closer to you. "Actually, have you seen a stupid-looking guy with bleached hair walking around here?"
You have to swallow a laugh.
"No." You say, sounding apologetic. "I guess I would have remembered someone like that."
The man sighs, seeming slightly disappointed.
"Alright. Thank you anyway. Good night."
He walks away slowly.
The store goes back to silence for many seconds, the only audible sound being the buzz of the refrigerators.
Then, the bleach-haired weirdo shows up from behind the aisle. You've honestly never seen someone look so relieved in your life.
"Thank you so, so much!" he says excitedly, putting his hand over his chest. "Oh my God, I thought he was going to kill me. You saved my life. My heroine!"
Now that he's standing close to you under proper light, you can't help but disagree with his brother.
This man right here is anything but stupid-looking.
Albeit shorter than the other, you notice that he has… well… nice body proportions. His skin is so ridiculously clear that it reminds you of fine chinese porcelain (it makes you feel self aware of your own oily skin and you quietly regret not exfoliating your face those last few weeks). When he smiles, his eyes almost completely close, which makes him look somehow cute. However, the thing that most draws your attention is his lips. They're just so… plump. And healthy. You can notice the subtle gloss of lip balm.
His clothes are quite simple - white buttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants -, but you see the little Prada written on his belt and yet again you see the huge golden Rolex on his wrist - like his brother, everything about him screams I am rich.
On top of that, he smells good.
You're conflicted.
You don't know if you're feeling attracted to him or if you're just plain jealous.
Quirking your eyebrow up, you cross your arms. "Well, I also felt that he was going to kill you. You must've done something really bad."
"Oh, no. My brother hates me for simply existing in the same space as him." He says it so light-heartedly that you don't know if he's serious or not. He lifts the shattered phone in his hand. "Also, I stole his phone, so… I think his reaction was fair this time."
"I would have wanted to kill you, too." you blurt out in pure honesty.
He laughs again, covering his mouth with his fist and slightly throwing his head back. He's the type that laughs with his entire body. Does this man know how to fake laughter very well or does he genuinely think everything is funny?
"Don't bother! This is one of his phones. I just gained some time before he can call my parents." You can't help but frown. Did he seriously destroy his brother's phone just so he couldn't call his parents? "Anyway, I'm sure he left. I think I should, too."
"Yeah. Hm… Good night. And good luck with your psycho brother." You say awkwardly, starting to feel a little weirded out by him - because when he looks at people, he actually looks at them. Like. For real.
"Thank you. Good night!"
He opens the front door and only leaves after peeking his head outside to check if his brother isn’t sneakily waiting for him, waving at you cutely.
You stand there for some moments, putting your hands on your waist.
This is one more situation that will make you say "you won't guess what happened to me this time" to your friends; now, two handsome rich guys were playing mortal hide and seek during your shift. And you think it'll be just it - another strange story to your list about people you're never seeing again.
This time, though, you're wrong.
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It's around the same time at night when, once again, your eye catches silver hair walking into the store.
You feel forced to put your textbook down this time.
He smiles and waves excitedly. Today, he wears a red turtleneck under a long black coat, black pants and leather black shoes that look very expensive. He takes off his sunglasses as he walks in (sunglasses at 1AM? Really?). "Hello!"
You stare at him, straight-faced, for long moments.
"May I help you?" You can't hide your suspiciousness.
"I just decided to drop by and say hello to my heroine!"
Oh no. He really is a weirdo.
"Okay." You're speaking and moving slowly as if you're facing a dangerous and angry dog. "Hello."
He nods, still smiling.
You watch as the silver-haired man puts his hands on the pockets of his coat, trying to fake a nonchalant act, and slowly walks around the store, humming quietly. He looks at every shelf and refrigerator but it's obvious that he's not searching for anything in particular.
It goes on for a few minutes.
It's painful to watch.
Finally, he comes to the cashier holding a can of Pringles and a Coke, making you get up from your chair. He pays for the items with a black card that feels heavy when you take it on your fingers.
"Do you want a plastic bag?" You ask, as usual.
He takes around two seconds to reply.
"No. I'm… I'm eating it here."
You stare at each other in silence.
"Are you hiding from your brother again?"
"Yes." His shoulders drop as he says this, finally letting go of his façade. "Can I just stay for some time? I know he won't search for me here again. I won't bother you, I promise!"
He sounds whiny. Like a little kid begging for more cookies.
This grown ass man is literally pouting at you.
You exhale heavily. "Alright. No problem, I guess." You still eye him suspiciously as he sighs and smiles, relieved. He does have a pretty smile. "Are you sure your brother isn't a gang leader?"
"No. He's just unbearable." He taps his fingers on the counter. "Do you… have a stool or something?"
You blink. "A stool?"
He tilts his head awkwardly. "Yes. I don't wanna sit on the floor again."
Oh. Sure.
There is actually a tiny stool hidden under the counter. You give it to him and he puts it on the other side of the cashier counter, happily sitting on it and opening the Pringles can.
You sit back, still moving slowly. This situation is awkward.
“Do you want some?” He offers you, his cheeks full and his eyes round. You shake your head.
“No, thank you.”
He just keeps eating in silence for a few moments, humming happily as he chews.
Your eyes slowly fall back over the textbook.
“Oh! I didn’t even tell you my name! That’s so rude,” he says out of sudden with - once again - a type of excitement similar to a child’s. You don’t know if it’s cute or creepy at this point. “I’m Jimin. What’s your name?”
“Y/N.” He repeats your name under his breath, nodding.
You lay your eyes on the textbook once more. Everything you hear is the quiet sound of him chewing his crunchy chips.
“What are you reading?”
When you lift your head again, he’s kinda closer than he was a second ago. His eyes are gleaming with curiosity, stretching his neck to try to see a glimpse of it.
Awkwardly, you close it to show him the cover. “Hm… I’m just studying.”
He scowls. “Tax law? God, that's awful. What’s your major, by the way?”
He chuckles.
You cross your arms slowly, frowning. “What’s funny about it?”
“Nothing.” He licks his fingertips. “It’s just that… I think of old bald men with huge goggles when I hear the word accountant. I don’t imagine someone like you.”
“Is this a compliment?” You quirk one eyebrow up.
“Half and half. This kinda makes you boring.”
You stare at him in silence.
Is this dude you just met calling you boring?
“Well, I’m sorry if my attempt at having a better life sounds boring to you.”
“Don’t get me wrong!” He’s quick to say, waving his hands. “It’s just that… all the math… and sitting behind a desk your whole life, reading papers, analyzing numbers… it sounds terrible.” He scowls as if he has a lemon inside of his mouth.
“It doesn’t sound terrible to me.” You defend yourself. “I like when things are organized and working the way they should.”
He licks his lips. That was a little bit distracting.
“I have a different mindset.” He explains. “I’m a free spirit, you know? I don’t like feeling tied like that. The idea of being just a gear inside of a big company that gives two shits about you is suffocating.”
“Really? And what’s your profession?” Honestly, you don’t even think he went to college.
“International Relations.”
You snort. “And doesn’t it mean that you have to be a gear inside of a big company to work with something like that?”
“I know.” He nods vehemently, lifting his eyebrows. “And I hate it.”
“Why did you major it, then?”
“It wasn’t really my choice.” He taps his fingers over the counter. “My family wants me to be in their business, you know.”
You watch him in silence.
As curious as you are to know why the hell does this man keep hiding from his brother, you kind of feel that he’s even more eager to tell you what’s going on.
“That’s why you’re hiding?” You bet. Jimin clicks his tongue.
“Kinda. If they find me, they’ll definitely force me into a position.” He sighs tiredly. “They don’t understand that I’m not like my older brother! He wants to be CEO or whatever. Why don't they just let him carry the family business if he wants it so bad? I was never interested in the first place!” He pouts a lot as he talks. It's stupid - everything about this guy feels a little bit over the top; definitely not the type you'd normally be into -, but you have to control yourself not to stare at his lips all the time.
You shake your head incredulously and rest your back on the chair.
“Why do I feel that you’re judging me?” Jimin asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
“Because I am.” You say. “I would love to be forced into an important position in a big company. What’s your family’s business, by the way?”
“The Aurum Steel Company. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.” He says nonchalantly.
You gasp.
“Aurum Steel Company?! Are you kidding me?” You stare at him, jaw dropped. Sure, it was obvious since the beginning that Jimin was rich… but being the heir of one of the biggest steel companies in the world?! “You know what? I wouldn’t just love to be forced into a position. I would actually kill to be in any position.”
“It’s a freaking steel company! Do you know how boring it is?!” Jimin says as if you’re the crazy one.
“Oh my God. Rich people problems have never been so real.” You shake your head, staring at him wide-eyed. “That’s offensive, even”
“You’re saying this because you don’t know how those people live.” Jimin gesticulates a lot as he speaks. “Being honest, they don’t even have lives at all. They just work, work, work and work. I would honestly rather die.”
"So you don't like to work, basically."
"I never said that." he crosses his arms. "I don't wanna work with that."
"Then, what do you want to work with? Maybe you could convince your parents to leave you alone if you give them enough of an excuse."
He leans his elbow on the counter and rests his face on his palm, thoughtful. "I don't think they'll accept any excuse at all. You see, they kinda let me do whatever I wanted to do for the past few years. My dad was like, 'it's okay if you want to enjoy life for now, but some time you'll have to assume your responsibilities.'" He deepens his voice, mimicking his father's voice, which makes you want to laugh. "I've been living overseas and all. But… now that I turned 25, they decided to corner me from all sides. They said that if I didn't come back, they would block all of my bank accounts."
"And did they?"
"Yes." he nods. "But I came back, talked to the bank manager and they unblocked it."
"So that's why your parents and brother are mad at you?" you quirk your eyebrow up.
"Yes. They've been hunting me around the city. But I don't want to go see them." Jimin whimpers, dramatically pretending to cry. "Hyungsik found out in which hotel I was, so I had to escape. And that's why I'm here."
You stare at him in silence while he pouts at you.
"Wow. What a tragic life of yours." Jimin nods, closing his eyes. It’s hard to guess if he didn’t get the dripping sarcasm in your tone or if he simply ignored it.
"I know. I don't even have a place to sleep!"
You stare at the Coke he bought resting near his elbow. "Well, I think if you want to escape, you'll have to figure out a place to sleep and leave real soon."
He frowns. "Why? Are you kicking me out?"
"No. It's just that you used a credit card to buy those things. If they're really hunting you down, they must probably already know that you bought something here."
Jimin freezes.
His eyes widen.
"Shit!" he swears under his breath and gets up in a jump. "I'm so fucking stupid!"
"Do you want me to agree or…?"
"Don't." He takes the Pringles can and - believe it or not - manages to smile once again. "Thank you for letting me stay again, Y/N!"
He waves goodbye and runs out of the store.
Again, the only noise to fill your ears is the buzz of the refrigerators. You sigh and open the Coke he left behind, drinking a little bit.
Whiny millionaire man complains about having responsibilities and runs away.
One more goes to your list.
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It’s not like you totally weren’t expecting it at this point.
Just like he simply entered the store and acted as if his presence was 100% normal - and even acted as if he had some sort of intimacy with you, spilling his whole life in the span of ten minutes -, he took a place in the back of your thoughts and stayed there throughout the day. The strange, dramatic, spoiled yet charming man.
After spending some years of your life in a particular school as a scholarship holder, you unceremoniously learned to hate rich people. Most of your colleagues were spoiled, selfish and arrogant, with only a few exceptions. Sure, being rich doesn’t mean someone is inherently bad. But, as you noticed after years of watching teens cry because their parents won’t take them to Paris this vacation, growing up with so much money makes someone be so self-centered and so unaware of real life problems that it makes them unbearable. As Rousseau said: humans are born just fine, society (capitalism) fucks them up.
Yes, seeing Jimin whine about not wanting to work at his family’s billionaire company sure offended you somehow. Yet… there was something different about him. Some type of naivety and honesty that refrained you from hating his guts.
The fact that he’s stupidly handsome and has the prettiest lips you’ve ever seen in your life helps? Of course.
So… Yeah. You kind of were expecting him to show up again.
It made you feel stupid. What, do you think you’re in a cliche drama now?, you scolded yourself as you sat behind the counter, ready to start the long shift. Hot millionaire falls for poor hardworking girl?
You probably shouldn’t get your hopes high.
So, as you go about your nightly routine - wipe the floor, feed the dog, restock the refrigerators, throw expired food away, serve two customers in the span of three hours -, you sometimes peek at the front door, expecting to see silver hair walking in.
At around 2AM, he indeed shows up.
This time, you fully drop your textbook, a deep frown covering your features.
Jimin looks… different.
First of all - his hair is a mess. Not perfectly styled at all. He wears a pink oversized hoodie, blue patterned pajama pants that do not match in any way, socks and flip flops. No earrings, no rings, no watch on his wrist.
On top of that, it looks like he either discovered all of the world’s dirtiest secrets or was chased by Satan himself.
He’s pale. His eyes are widened by default.
You watch, frozen, as Jimin opens the first refrigerator he sees, takes a water bottle, walks on a bee line to the cashier, slams some money over the counter and sits on the stool.
He literally gulps the whole water bottle in, like, five seconds - then stares blankly at nothing.
You don’t move for a few moments.
“Are you okay?” you finally ask hesitantly. “It looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“My parents want me to get married.” He blurts out.
You almost choke.
“They found a candidate.” He holds the empty pet bottle so tightly that it smashes. “My brother told me that they want to arrange everything as fast as they can.”
You simply stare at him, jaw-dropped, for more time than you can process.
“This can’t be serious.” You say, tilting your head slowly. “Maybe your brother was messing with you.”
“Hyungsik is not the type that messes around with people.” Jimin says, shaking his head.
“They can’t force you into marrying someone. What, are we in the XIX century?” You cross your arms. It sounds so fucking surreal.
“Their minds are stuck in the XIX century. And this type of thing is much more common than you think.” Jimin exhales and rests his head on his hands. “I’m so fucked up!”
“Well, you… you can not agree with them.” You weakly try to elaborate. “You can say no.”
For the first time, Jimin lifts his head and looks at you as if you just said the stupidest thing in the world.
“Yeah, I could say no and have my name erased from the testament. Actually, they’ll block all of my accounts for real the moment I say no.”
“But you have some savings of your own, right? I mean, your own money, right?”
Jimin goes silent.
It hits you… Jimin is so rich that he never even considered not having money. Why would someone with “endless” money save money?
“Wow. You really are fucked up.”
“I have a little money saved!” He tries to defend himself. “But I think what I have is enough to pay my apartment’s rent...”
“You could, I don’t know… be like 99% of the world’s population and find a job to sustain yourself.” You shrug.
He, once again, stares at you as if you just said something very stupid.
“Aw, come one. You’re making things harder.” You whine.
“They’re making things harder!” He grabs his own hair as if he wants to rip it out. “I either chain myself to a company I hate or to some random woman for the rest of my life!”
You, once again, fall silent as Jimin whimpers as if in physical pain. You can see his side of things - it’s easy to tell someone to live independently and find a job, but honestly, if you’re a stupidly rich person going through the risk of losing all of your fortune, would it really be an easy decision?
Hesitantly, you lean closer to him. Why are you even caring to give advice to a man you barely know anyway?
“Have you ever tried talking things out with them, Jimin?” You ask in a quieter voice. “Have you ever been honest to them?”
He crosses his arms over the counter and rests his chin on them. Although his hair looks like a bird nest, he still somehow manages to look cute. “They would never listen to me or accept me. They’re so… ugh.” He rolls his eyes. “They’ll never understand that I don’t want to work in an office for the rest of my life. They won’t understand that I would never marry someone because of business. I know many people that are in fake marriages like that and all of them have affairs. I’m sure my parents would say, it’s not even real! Why are you hesitating so much?, but, look, call me old-fashioned, but I kinda wanna marry someone someday because I like them, you know?” Once again, he ruffles his own hair. “And what if I want to marry a guy? My parents would try to fucking exorcise me! That’s how backwards they are!”
You gulp, starting to feel honestly sorry for him.
“Well… I don’t know what to say.” you shrug. He sighs, pouting, and looks at you.
“You don’t have to say anything, really. Just the fact that you’re listening to me already helps.”
You frown a little bit. “Why did you come here again, anyway?”
“Because any of my ‘friends’ would say I’m being dramatic and that a fake marriage isn’t a big deal.” He’s pouting so much that his voice comes out a bit muffled. “I had a feeling that someone normal like you wouldn’t think like that.”
You lift your eyebrows. “Someone normal. I don’t know if I should feel offended.”
“I just don’t know what to do!” He completely ignores your last sentence, ruffling his hair violently and tapping his feet on the floor like a kid throwing a tantrum. “If there was anything I could do to at least delay their plans!”
“You’re saying as if they’ll make a surprise wedding tomorrow.”
“That’s kinda it! Hyungsik said that they want to introduce me to this random girl at their wedding anniversary next week!”
“Wow.” You rest on the chair back once again, silently thanking the Heavens for not being in his shoes. “With all due respect, your parents really suck.”
“I know!” He growls painfully and rests his cheek on the counter. You think of a sad puppy as you watch him. “If I could at least convince them a little bit… make them believe that I’m a responsible adult…” at least he recognizes he isn’t. “If I did something that would make them give up introducing me to this girl, at least for now…”
Jimin mumbles his own pain quietly for a few seconds.
Then, you see the exact moment an idea crosses his mind.
He freezes.
His eyes widen.
Then, he looks at you.
Really looks at you.
Slowly, Jimin straightens his back.
“If I showed up to their wedding anniversary with someone… someone that looks like a decent, nice person, someone that put me on the right path… if I seemed to be so in love with this decent and nice person that they would feel embarrassed to introduce me to the girl…”
You feel the corners of your lips going down as you nod accordingly. “Do you think it would make them give up?”
“Yes. At least for some time.” He says quietly and slowly.
“It still sounds pretty fucked up, but if it’s the best solution you would have for now…” You shrug, nodding.
“Mh-hmm.” Jimin nods.
He’s still staring at you.
You frown. “What?”
Jimin keeps silent.
You finally notice it.
The tiniest ghost of a smile in his lips. His eyes gleaming with mischief.
It hits you.
“No.” You shake your head vehemently. “No fucking way.”
“Aw, come on, Y/N!” He brings the stool closer to you, so much that now he sits right in front of you. “Do you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend?”
"Then why not?"
“Because- no!” You’re borderline hyperventilating. “It’s just absurd!”
“But you agreed that it’s a good idea!”
“Well, not with me included!” You cross your arms, as if protecting yourself from this crazy man. “Why me anyway?! I just don’t fit this role!”
“Why not?” He asks again, tilting his head. “You’re perfect for the role!”
“Well, first of all, I’m fucking broke. Do you think your parents would approve of you dating someone that owns anything but unpaid bills and a goldfish?!”
“Y/N, listen.” He puts his opened palms over the counter. His eyes are gleaming way too much. He’s excited. “My father has a heart of stone, but my mother… well, she also has a heart of stone, but let’s say that, hm, it’s eroded? Like, if you press really hard, she kinda gives in.” Okay. His metaphor was a little bit impressive. “She wouldn’t like to see me dating a poor girl, but if said poor girl is actually a dream girl that knocks some sense into her son’s reckless head, she would soften! My mom likes rom-coms, I know what I’m saying!”
“Dream girl?” You snort. “I’m anything but a dream girl.”
“I’m 100% sure that you’re on summer break and yet there you are, reading a freaking textbook about tax law. What’s more perfect than the image of a humble, hardworking person? Sure, at first mom will say you’re a money grabber, but after she gets to know you…”
“Oh my God- stop. Just stop. I’m not doing this.” You wave your hands. If you still had any doubts that Jimin is crazy, now you have none.
He tilts his head, quirking one eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you don’t wanna do this because you’re the low self-esteem type? Come on, you’re pretty. Basic, but pretty.”
Your jaw automatically drops. If looks could kill, he would be dead.
“Did you just call me basic?!”
Jimin sends you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see an ounce of style in you. This ponytail is especially awful.”
“I fucking work in a convenience store! Of course I won’t get all dressed up!”
“Really?” You hate the way he quirks that damn eyebrow. “What about the split ends of your hair?”
You immediately feel yourself holding your own hair, as if hiding it from him. Your body heats up in anger. “Who are you to talk about my split ends?! Your hair is so dry that it looks like fucking hay. I can see the black roots from miles away!”
“Look, I’m having a pretty stressful week. It’s not like I had a lot of time to take care of myself.” Jimin crosses his arms defensively. “Besides, I’m going to the hair salon tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah? You’re having a stressful week, I have a stressful life.” You pat your feet on the floor impatiently. “And no, I’m not ‘the low self-esteem’ type. I’m fucking pretty.”
“I know.”
There’s something about the way he agrees with you so quickly that makes your stomach drop for a second.
Just for a second.
“Anyway.” You clean your throat, adjusting your position on the chair. “You said yourself that you’re against fake relationships, didn’t you?”
“I said I’m against fake marriage. A life-long thing. We’ll pretend to be dating for a weekend.”
“And you think your parents will believe this theatrical act in a weekend?”
“I see them once a year. Sometimes twice. They don’t spend enough time with me to know me that well at all.” He presses his palms together and puts them in front of his face as if praying, looking at you with round, begging eyes. “Please, Y/N! All of my other girl friends are too well-known, no one would believe in me. It’s just three days! Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise! My parents booked a resort in Hawaii this year-”
You choke on thin air.
“I know, right? Last year it was in the Alps. Personally I prefer a tropical place much more-”
“Wait, wait.” You raise your hands, making him finally stop. “Are you seriously talking about a resort in Hawaii?!”
Jimin nods. He is serious. “See? A weekend in Hawaii! It’ll be great, right?”
He throws his hands up and groans. “Sweet Jesus, what do I have to do to convince you?!”
“First- I don’t even have a passport.”
“I can get it in time for you. We still have a week.”
“Second- my job. If you don’t know how jobs work, you can’t simply tell your boss ‘hey, I’m spending three days in Hawaii’ out of sudden!”
“I can also-”
He stops as if choking on his own words.
Once again, you see his eyes gleaming - and you shiver as you realize that he had another (probably awful) idea.
Jimin leans his arm on the counter, a determined smirk on his lips.
“Yesterday you told me that you’d kill to have a position in my family’s company, isn’t it? Alright, then. If you go on this trip with me, I’ll give you a job in the company.”
You think of your egg-sized apartment. You think of eating noodles constantly because it's what you can afford on a daily basis and the gastritis you’ll probably develop because of it. You think of the same old tennis shoes you wear everyday because you either buy your noodles or you save it to buy new ones. You think of working on this night shift that gave you an awful sleeping routine and purple bags around your eyes.
And, for the first time, you seriously consider doing this.
“Are you serious?” You ask with suspicion.
“Of course.” Seeing your sudden interest, he gets excited. “The company has a lot of those trainee programs. I’m sure I can put you in the financial department easily.”
“But… but if we’re going to pretend that we’re dating, won’t it be weird that your girlfriend will join the company as a trainee?”
“Do you know how many people work there? My family doesn’t even bother to know who works for them, except for the higher positions. You don’t have to work at the headquarters, either. They’ll never know.”
More tense silence.
You bounce your leg nervously, passing your hand on the back of your neck. I can’t believe I’m considering this. I don’t even know this guy at all. He might just be a freaking psychopath.
Jimin stares at you expectantly. Damn, this guy really likes to stare at people.
You should take your own morals in consideration. Are you seriously selling yourself to this spoiled manchild? Is it that easy to take things from you? Weren’t you the type to hate rich people and capitalism overall and-
Fuck it.
“A weekend, right?”
“Right.” He nods.
“Three days, right?”
“We impress your parents, convince them that you’re a changed guy, then you find me a job and leave me alone.”
“I’m not so sure about the leaving you alone part, but yeah, exactly.” You frown.
“And why wouldn’t you leave me alone?”
“Well, you might fall in love with me. Who knows?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
You roll your eyes, making him giggle.
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Before you can fully comprehend the consequences of your actions, you sigh heavily and nod.
“Alright. I’m in.”
Jimin claps his hands excitedly, opening the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.
“You really are my heroine, Y/N!” He extends his arm over the counter. “We have a deal!”
You gulp and shake his hand firmly.
Your friends will definitely get shocked when you tell them the newest strange thing happening in your life:
You accept to fake date whiny millionaire man mentioned previously.
The list is increasing rapidly.
“You better do what you promised, otherwise I’m killing you.” You threaten very seriously.
Jimin laughs and - once again - quirks that damn eyebrow up.
“Of course. I wouldn’t let my girlfriend down.”
He fucking bites his bottom lip.
A heat creeps the back of your neck.
You’re in trouble.
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tags: @shrimpmsg @hesmyphenominiall @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @vantxx95 @sweettaeguk @moonchild1 @jikooksgirl19 @yesalexus
514 notes · View notes
btssmutgalore · a month ago
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An anonymous streamer puts on a show every couple of days. When you become one of his biggest fans, your social life takes a hit—you'd rather stay glued to your laptop and stare at him than go out and meet men in real life. But, what if?
⤑ word count: 17.5k ⤑ genre: smut [oral (m and f receiving), intercourse, dirty talk, unprotected sex], friends to lovers, camboy!jk, aka jk is too shy to date but not to put on a show 😏 ⤑ rating: 18+!!!! ⤑ pairing: reader x jungkook
It was weird, for sure. Still, you felt that it was even weirder that you always needed another person to experience an orgasm. You had a feeling it shouldn’t be like that.
Of course, you didn’t mind it that much when you were in a relationship—you’d have a mouth on you and fingers in you and getting there would be really easy. Plus, you got to do it whenever you felt like it.
The problem was, you couldn’t make it happen on your own. Now that you were single, it was a huge problem.
You’ve tried God knows how many times, but it just wasn’t happening.
You’ve tried watching porn, but that didn’t work either. You’d get turned on, but nothing would happen other than your private parts getting too sensitive. It would always end up with you quitting in frustration.
The thing with the shower head didn’t work, either.
You got yourself a dildo, but that didn’t help at all.
Then, you ordered a vibrator—and of course your roommate was the one who the delivery guy handed it to—but it didn’t do much good. Taehyung still wasn’t letting you live that down. You loved living with him, but at times, he was the biggest man-child out there. How anyone could have sex with him was beyond you, considering he was still teasing people about masturbation.
You were slowly becoming desperate and then you decided to read more about female orgasms, see what could potentially help you, and that’s when you first saw someone mentioning moaning solo videos. You weren’t sure what that meant, but you were willing to try—at that point, you were down to try anything.
Of course, it was guys jerking off and being very vocal. While that got you excited, it didn’t help you orgasm. It just got you even more turned on.
By that time, you were more than frustrated. At one point, you considered just asking Taehyung to eat you out. He’d be down, you were sure, not because he had any special interest in you, but because it was a sexual activity and he never turned those down. Still, it’d be a new low for you and you were willing to try anything else before you sunk to new depths.
That’s how you found yourself on Reddit, going through subreddits about moaning videos, female masturbation, and advice on how to make yourself come. You were sick and tired of all the it’s-all-in-the-head or you-just-need-to-relax bullshit—you just wanted someone to give you some good piece of advice so you could finally come and get it over with.
And then, some girl said she had the same problem until she started watching camboys. Now, that sparked your interest so you went down the rabbit hole and found a recommendation for a user named Bunny. He was a guy who never showed his face, but had a great body and cock, and was very vocal when jerking off.
He’d stream on a website and watchers could tip him. The women said it helped them get off a lot quicker than anything else—they felt like they were in the room with him.
So, you found yourself making an account and deciding to watch Bunny the next time he streamed, on a Friday night and you did not regret it.
It felt awkward at first. What if someone saw you?
Watching porn was one thing—watching a man jerk off in real time was completely different. Not even the piece of tape you placed over your camera helped you feel any better. At least the FBI guy tracking you wouldn’t see you jerk off to this. It was indeed a new low.
But then, the show started and you forgot all about your worries when a naked muscly guy walked into frame and sat down on the chair. The camera was positioned to get everything below his chin so you couldn’t see any of his facial features or hair, but you could see his toned, firm chest and thick thighs. The center of it all was his cock, big even when soft.
As soon as you saw the small bunny tattoo next to his right hip, you understood the nickname.
It started slow—he sat down, squirted some lube onto his cock and started to jerk it slowly, getting it hard. You weren’t sure if he was watching porn or doing something else, but it didn’t take him long to get completely erect.
As soon as he started the show, you understood where all the women who recommended him were coming from—he was fucking hot even before he began moaning, and then he did, and you found yourself wanting to get off.
You weren’t sure if you wanted to close your eyes and enjoy his moaning or whether you wanted to stay glued to the screen and enjoy the image as much as the sound. You opted for the latter and you couldn’t get enough of his veiny hand stroking his cock, the other playing with his balls, while hisses and sharp inhales left his mouth.
And then, he started speaking in a very low tone which made your insides turn with excitement. It felt like he was right there.
“You like this, huh?” He grunted, and it felt like he was talking to you.
Then, he moaned as he picked up his pace. His hips started to thrust and it looked like he was fucking his fist, so it was easy to imagine yourself there being fucked instead of his fist. He looked smooth and firm all over and it became hard to look away from his body.
“You—ahhh, fuck, you make me so hard,” he grunted and sighed deeply. “Make me come all over myself,” he mumbled again in between loud moans and grunts.
Fuck, this man was amazing.
You touched your clit, your vibrator inside of you, and had a hard time focusing on only one aspect of his body—everything was perfect: his chest, especially now that his nipples have hardened and you imagined yourself grazing them; his stomach, lean and strong; his thighs, now spread, allowing you a great view of his cock, balls, and the lower part of his buttocks, all of which was so inviting you couldn’t stop thinking about licking him all over.
His long fingers stroked his balls gently, rubbed them around in his palm, tugged at them, squeezed them, while he moved his fingers up and down his cock. It went on for around ten minutes, this little show he put on, and by the eight minute, you were sweaty, dripping wet, your cunt squeezing the toy, pulsating around it, wanting to feel the real thing.
The hand that was rubbing your clit was starting to hurt, but you didn’t want to stop—you were so close you could feel it.
It did, however, feel like you had to pee, but you ignored the feeling and kept rubbing your clit harshly, feeling it harden under your fingertips, in need of a tongue to play with it. Sadly, your hand was the best you could do.
“Take me in your mouth,” Bunny said, wrapping his slender fingers around his base and pointing his cock at the camera. Then, he slapped his wet cock against his open palm and the sound of it made you grunt loudly.
“Make me fucking come,” he grunted and started to move his hand faster.
Each stroke enticed more curses and hisses from his lips, and the moaning got louder. He was now saying profanities. The tipping point for you when he started moaning the words faster, baby, faster all over again. His voice sounded low and deep, his cock seemed so red, veiny, and inviting, and the vibrator inside of you felt like a real cock for a second, so you let go and felt your walls pulsating harder against the toy as you came.
You removed the toy quickly because of the insane amount of pressure that had built up inside of you and as soon as you did that, a streak of liquid shot out of you all over the bed. Since your other hand was still touching your clit, the liquid dripped out of your quickly for a couple of seconds longer and your chest heaved up and down, your mind going blank as you let your head rest against the pillow, Bunny’s sweet low moans in the background.
Just then, his moans got a lot higher in tone and you looked at the screen just fast enough to catch him blowing his load all over himself—his chest, his thighs, his fingers, his balls. Bunny jerked himself off until he got every last drop out and then he said a quick bye and turned off the livestream.
You felt relief over him coming but then you remembered that you’d peed your bed.
Was it pee? It couldn’t be squirt.
Is this what squirting felt like? If so, it was heavenly.
The liquid seemed to have no color to it so you didn’t think it was pee. You smelled it and it didn’t smell like it. Ok, maybe a bit.
Feeling ashamed that you knew so little about something so normal, you googled it and after half an hour of research, you concluded that it was indeed squirt and that Bunny was the best moaning soloist out there. If you had any perverted girl friends, you would have definitely recommended his work.
The next Friday, you tuned in just to tip him some money because you didn’t do it the last week and if anyone deserved your money, it was him for making you come so hard after such a long time. You told yourself you’d just tip him and leave, but this time he brought some kind of oil and massaged himself all over, guttural moans leaving his mouth a lot more often than the last time, and you came again, this time around the 7 minute mark.
So, that was a weird part of your life you rarely spoke to people about. How in the hell were you going to bring it up in a casual conversation? You couldn’t talk to Taehyung about chores and slip in the fact that you’ve not only managed to make yourself come but squirt all thanks to a stranger online who broadcasted his jerk-off sessions. So you didn’t mention it, but Taehyung noticed a change in your behavior.
When he realized you finally came—he knew the struggle was real—Taehyung decided to try to get you to go out with his friends more.
“You’ll never meet a guy and have some fun if you work and stay in your room all day,” he nudged you and you decided to go because he was right.
You spent an additional four months getting off to Bunny, not even dating.
Men didn’t interest you in the slightest for a while, mostly because of the bad breakup, and it was so hard to meet someone normal.
Since Taehyung was offering you to join him and two of his closest friends, you figured you had nothing left to lose.
What else were you going to do, stay home and get yourself off to Bunny?
He wasn’t even streaming that Saturday, so you really had nothing to lose.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Taehyung was always an anomaly in your eyes. He was cute, funny, handsome, yet he became completely undatable the second you realized he’d fuck whoever offers. Well, almost, but that was the point—he was down to try whatever and he enjoyed living life like that.
The anomaly part came into play when you met his friends.
He, the biggest player out there, was hanging out with Jimin, a guy who’s been with the same partner for what seemed like decades, and Jungkook, an awkward gamer kid who got laid less than you, which really said a lot about him.
It’s not that you didn’t like Jungkook and Jimin—quite the contrary—but you just never imagined that the three of them could be friends.
Jimin was in a stable relationship, wasn’t a womanizer, didn’t go out as much as Taehyung, and didn’t really care for partying anymore. Still, he was very fun to be around and you always engaged in banter with him.
Jungkook has probably never cared for partying, which is why it was so surprising that Taehyung and him hung out at all. He was a couple of years younger than your roommate, and you figured that Taehyung took Jungkook under his wing and tried to teach him his ways, but failed miserably.
If you’ve ever met a man completely uninterested in contact with women, it was that guy.
As luck would have it, the two of them were the only ones going out with you and Taehyung, so you had to get over your prejudice and be nice to everyone.
The pre-drinks happened at your place and Jimin brought some pizzas while Jungkook was in charge of the beverage. He rarely said much to you, so you weren’t surprised when he grunted a hello at you and started talking to Tae like you weren’t there.
Jimin, on the other hand, hugged you and complimented you on your looks and outfit. Of course, none of that meant he was interested—it was just his way of being nice. You appreciated it nonetheless since you got so little action that even a compliment from a taken man was enough to help your struggling ego.
What didn’t help it was Taehyung blasting you in front of his friends a couple of drinks in, after you joked about him bringing yet another random girl home. It was funny because she stole your sliced bread when she left, and you couldn’t stop laughing about it from the second you two figured out that was where the bread left. Of all the things she could have taken, why the sliced bread!?
“Funny coming from someone who hasn’t gotten laid in weeks,” Taehyung pretended to glare at you, but you could tell he didn’t care about your teasing.
If he thought his comment was offensive, you could do him one better. “Try months,” you chuckled, which made Taehyung gasp.
“Pa-the-tic,” he dragged each syllable and ended with a laugh. “Guys, we really need to find her a date tonight.”
“You will do no such thing,” you tried to keep a straight face, but failed. “You three couldn’t find a decent guy even if you tried.”
“Hey, hey,” Jimin lifted both his hands up and sneered at you. “I know some very cool guys you’d be really into.”
“Where are they!?” You pretended to look around to find these friends of his, which earned you a playful smack from Taehyung and a small smile from Jungkook, who wasn’t saying much the whole night, as per usual. “If they’re anything like Taehyung, I’ll pass, thanks.”
“Yeah, she’d much rather fuck toys than real human beings,” Taehyung chuckled and you noticed how Jungkook’s head snapped in your direction, but he looked at you for a split second before looking at his drink again.
You knew that Jungkook wanted to participate in these conversations and you were sure he’d have interesting things to say since everyone said he was so much fun, but he never did, at least not when you were around.
“Do you know what privacy means or is that a foreign concept to you?” You mumbled, shaking your head and pouring yourself another gin-tonic to prepare yourself for where the conversation was about to go. Taehyung and privacy just didn’t go together.
“I’m just explaining the situation so the guys know what we’re dealing with here,” Taehyung nudged you, as what he was saying was completely normal and acceptable. “We’re just trying to help you find a decent person, get out of your room, and experience something great. After your breakup, I really thought you’d never go out with someone again, so I’m really happy you’ve decided to join us on this lovely night.”
“That’s really sweet of you guys, but I’m not even sure I’m interested in dating,” you leaned back into the sofa and took a sip of the drink, feeling the bitterness of it against your tongue and hoping it would hit you soon.
“Fine, sex it is!” Taehyung patted your thigh excitedly. “This means that the number of eligible single men has gone up significantly, which is actually great news. Jimin, what about Yoongi?”
“Engaged,” Jimin shrugged and looked at you like he was breaking your heart when in fact, you didn’t even know who the guy in question was.
“Okay, then Jungkook… What about… Seokjin?” Taehyung asked and looked at the youngest person in the room, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. When he realized it was a question for him, Jungkook snapped out of it and shot a glance your way.
“Uh, nope,” he simply said and when Taehyung kept staring at him, he realized he’d have to explain his response. “With all due respect,” he looked at you and smiled faintly, as if he was just going to insult you. “Seokjin is actually trying to settle down and since you’re not really interested in dating, it’s not a good match.”
“That’s true,” you agreed with a nod, clearly surprising him. “There’s no point in wasting someone’s time.”
“How’s sex a waste of anyone’s time!?” Taehyung scoffed, shaking his head at you. “You’re both dumb. I think Jin knows his way around women and it’s exactly what you,” he looked at you now, “need.”
“Jungkook just said the guy’s not interested in sex only,” you waved your hand and downed the rest of your drink. “I don’t even know these guys so I don’t think any of it would work.”
“Namjoon?” Jimin said, making everyone’s head snap in his direction.
Taehyung jumped up excitedly, spilling a bit of his drink over his pants. “Fuck! That’s a great idea!” Then, he turned to you, still rushing with excitement. “Namjoon is really interesting and you’d find him hot. He’s smart. Has a bit of a problem getting comfortable around ladies, but so do most guys before they get confident. He’s Jungkook’s friend.”
You guessed that much yourself when you heard his description—you couldn’t imagine Jungkook in the company of a guy who knew how to talk to women, unless it was Jimin or Taeyhung.
“And,” Jimin lifted his finger, trying to make a point. “He’s no stranger to a one-night stand, so if you’re not looking for anything serious and you don’t want to get to know him and all that, I’m sure he’d be down.”
“What man is a stranger to one-night stands!?” You scoffed, thinking it was a ridiculous statement. In your experience, all men ever wanted was to fuck without any commitments.
“Jungkook!” Jimin and Taehyung said in unison before bursting into laughter, and it made you feel sorry for him.
“Sorry, dude, it was just the perfect setup,” Taehyung reached out to pat his head and Jungkook shrugged, getting frustrated. You could tell that by the way he tongued his cheek.
“You two should both get out more and talk to more people,” Jimin looked at you and Jungkook. “You because you really need to get laid and Jungkook because he needs to talk to more women, period.”
“Right!? It’s time, man,” Taehyung added his two cents. “Namjoon gets away with his awkwardness because he has the balls to ask someone to come home with him. If you did the same, someone would say yes, and you’d get laid.”
“It’s as easy as that,” Jimin decided to delve into it a bit more. “Sooner or later, you’ll hit it off with someone even if you don’t know what to say. I know you overthink it, but trust me, sometimes women don’t want you to talk to them or be all romantic or have great pick up lines. Sometimes, they just don’t expect to be swept off their feet and that’s where you come in.”
As someone who wasn’t that close to Jungkook, mostly because he always seemed to be embarrassed in your or any kind of female company, you felt bad for him. The guys were implying that there was no way he’d attract a woman into wanting to date him, so the best he could do was find someone who just wanted to get laid and who’d overlook his “flaw” of being shy.
Maybe it was the booze, maybe it was the fact that the two guys had just picked on you for the lack of a sex life, but you decided to step in for Jungkook.
“Some girls find shyness attractive,” you said, surprising all three of them, but mostly Jungkook, whose mouth formed an O for a second. “You’re both being pricks to him. Not everyone wants the guy to be all slick and confident, it’s a turn off for some girls.”
“Oh, really?” Taehyung expressed his disapproval by scoffing loudly. “Name one.”
“Me,” you looked at him like he was an idiot, because he was. “When have I ever gone home with a guy who walked up to me with the attitude you two are trying to make seem presentable? Never.”
“When have you ever gone home with a random guy ever?” Taehyung asked confidently, knowing he had you there.
“Okay, fair enough,” you shrugged, realizing Taehyung was right. Still, that didn’t make your statement any less true. “But what I said still stands. I know a lot of women and I am certain they’d be put off by a sleazy guy trying to get them to go to bed.”
“Of course, that’s true,” Jimin chirped. “But you have to remember this—a guy who walks up to everyone in the club is more likely to get laid than the one who doesn’t talk to anyone at the club,” he looked at Jungkook, who seemed to be regretting going out with you all in the first place. “We just want Jungkook to come out of his shell and talk to a girl.”
“That’s it!” Taehyung clapped in excitement. “You two should talk to each other more. Like, you can help Jungkook get over his shyness with women and he could introduce you to some of his single friends. They’re a bit younger, but most of them are single.”
The plan was great, you had to admit, but you knew it wouldn’t work. Jungkook, as always, tried his best to ignore you. You spoke a couple of times during the night and you both went home alone, like losers, which Taehyung called you when you said you were tired and wanted to leave.
Funnily enough, once you got home, showered, dried your hair, and got under your sheets, you noticed that Bunny was streaming, so you joined the stream and got off to the sweet sound of his moans once again, falling asleep peacefully.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You’d practically given up on your social life after that lame attempt, but Taehyung wasn’t having it.
He barged into your room on a Friday night and thank fuck you weren’t watching the Bunny stream which was on at that moment because he would have caught you red-handed and would have never ever let you forget about it. You’d probably have to move out because of sheer embarrassment.
Luckily, you tried to be a strong person that night and resist your urges to watch Bunny. You didn’t want to watch him or anyone else. If you were going to come, you were going to do it with a man or on your own.
The decision came after Bunny streamed three days in a row and you cancelled two separate plans with your friends so you could be home to catch the live-streams.
It was an act of an obsessed person and you didn’t want to become that, so you were trying to spend that Friday night watching a movie instead of being a horny loser and watching him yet another time and not being a step closer to meeting someone in real life.
Instead, Taehyung managed to drag you out of bed.
He was dying to go out and wanted to find company. Jungkook said they would drink at his place at 9pm but wasn’t responding to Taehyung’s texts and Jimin couldn’t make it. The other guys were also busy, so you were his last hope for a good night out. Taehyung’s life was really sad if you were his only hope, and you made that very clear, but your bitter comment just made him laugh.
In an hour, you got out of your room, ready to party just to find him packing the alcohol into a bag.
“Where are we going?”
“Jungkook’s not responding, but he’s home. It’s Friday. Where else would he be?” Taehyung laughed at his own joke, as if it was impossible Jungkook had other plans. “No, seriously, he’s probably working out. We’ll remind him of our plan and drink while he gets ready.”
You decided to tag along because anything beat staying at home, tempted to turn on the live-stream. No, hanging out with friends and meeting real people was much better. Besides, you’d given up on Bunny.
Taehyung knocked on the front door of Jungkook’s apartment loudly, so loud it would have woken up dead people. After what seemed like minutes, a red in the face, sweaty, wet-haired Jungkook opened the door. He was wearing a sweatshirt and shorts and seemed exhausted.
At first, he seemed surprised to see you two there but then it dawned on him that he’d forgotten the agreement with Taehyung, so he slapped his forehead. “Fuck! I’m sorry, come in,” he said, opening the door.
Taehyung grunted at him and went straight for the kitchen while you opted for the living room. You’d been there before, but you didn’t really feel comfortable walking through his apartment like that. Taehyung always made himself at home. Jungkook stood there awkwardly until Taehyung got back, and you two shot glances at each other. “Sorry, I’ll go have a shower and I’ll join you.”
“No, don’t worry! Take your time, jerk off while you’re at it,” Taehyung laughed at his own joke again and handed you the glass while Jungkook ran off to the bathroom.
“You’re mean,” you told him, pouring the juice into the glasses Taehyung had already filled with vodka. “It happens, people forget.”
“It’s Friday night and this dude is working out all alone in his room,” he seemed dissatisfied with Jungkook’s choice. “It’s like he doesn’t even want our help!”
“Dude, you’re going out with a friend. Stop acting like you’re the Red Cross and you’re doing him a huge favor,” you spat the words at him, hoping he’d understand he was treating Jungkook a bit unfairly. “Going out should be a fun experience, and not whatever you’re trying to make this into. No wonder he pretended to forget about this.”
“Okay, I get what you mean, but listen,” he leaned in and sighed, as if he was just going to explain why he was right about this as he was about everything. “He needs help. I mean it!”
“You’re a jerk,” you rolled your eyes. Yeah, Jungkook had a problem talking to women, but you were sure he wasn’t as desperate as Taehyung made him sound.
“A month ago, he promised me and Jimin he would make more of an effort to talk to you,” Taehyung leaned back into the sofa and laughed. “Look how great that’s going for him!”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the only woman he has access to,” Taehyung looked at you like you were stupid while frowning. “We didn’t tell him to hit on you or anything like that. Just to talk to you because you’re a woman. The more he talks to you, the less relaxed he’ll be talking with other girls, right?”
“Okay, I see your point. That’s not such a bad idea,” you had to agree even though you didn’t want to agree with any of Taehyung’s tactics. “But he never speaks to me.”
“That’s my exact fucking point! That’s why I’m so frustrated with him. You’re right here! Jimin asks questions about your sex life that even I wouldn’t dare ask and Jungkook can’t even ask you how you’re doing. I mean, he does do that from time to time, let’s give him that. But he leaves it at small talk and he does that with everyone. He’s bad at small talk, so it never leads anywhere.”
“Maybe he’d do better with some deeper topics, you never know,” you suggested. “He does seem to have a lot more interests than you, if I’m honest.”
“Because he plays games?”
“And works out,” you pointed out, which made your roommate laugh. “And cleans, from the look of it.”
“Cleaning is not an interest. It’s a way for fucked up people to get out of their thoughts,” Taehyung looked happy with his conclusion. “Know how I know? I live with you. Ha!”
You had no choice but to laugh at his pettiness. Even though Taehyung sometimes seemed cruel, he was actually just straightforward and honest with people, whether they liked it or not. You, for one, enjoyed having that kind of honesty. You hated when people tiptoed around, so he was the perfect choice for a roommate.
Right then, Jungkook came out of the bathroom, mumbling apologies because he forgot to take clean clothes with him to the bathroom. Now, you didn’t want to be a perv and stare at him wrapped only in a towel, but you were interested in seeing his body. Everyone always kept talking about how he worked out hard to build up his confidence, so you were just curious about it. Besides, it’s been a long time since you’d seen anyone naked from the waist up.
The sneak peek was enough to take you aback. A guy with a body like that was that flustered around women? Him? It didn’t make sense. Jungkook seemed to be chiseled from head to toe.
Your gaze unwillingly flew down to his crotch, making you feel like a total creep, and that’s when you saw it.
It was right there, staring at you.
You choked on your drink, sat up straight, and cleared your throat repeatedly, feeling like someone has hit the air out of your chest. Taehyung was watching Jungkook make his way from the bathroom to the room, but when he noticed your reaction to Jungkook’s half naked body, he turned his attention to you, extremely curious about everything.
Jungkook stopped dead in his tracks to look at you and he saw you ogling his bunny tattoo.
Then, you lifted your gaze and it met his. and you knew he knew. In that moment, you were 100% sure he knew you’d recognized him from the tattoo. This meant that he also knew you watched his videos, which was a total defeat and embarrassment you’d never get over.
He knew!
He disappeared into his bedroom and Taehyung screamed loudly. “Oh my God! You just eye-fucked Jungkook so hard!” He patted your thigh and screamed out again. “This is fucking marvelous!”
Luckily, Taehyung wasn’t in the streaming world so he had no idea what had just happened there. You, on the other hand, felt mortified, but you clinged on to the hope that you were making it up and that a) Jungkook wasn’t Bunny and b) if he were, he didn’t know you watched him. One of the options had to be true.
He couldn’t be Bunny, right? Jungkook?
The can’t-talk-to-a-woman-to-save-his-life dude? He’s Bunny?
You were making it up. God knows how many men out there had this tacky tattoo.
“Shut up,” you said as you poured yourself a shot of vodka and downed it, feeling yourself sweating. This couldn’t be happening!
“Oh come on, you were ogling the dude,” Taehyung spread his arms out in confusion, blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil. “Besides, you’re looking to get laid, so is he. How didn’t I think of it before? You two should fuck. If you do want it, just tell him. He’d be more than happy to, trust me!”
“And how would you know?” You glared at him, annoyed at his words, but mostly at yourself for giving yourself away like that. Even if Jungkook was Bunny, you shouldn’t have reacted that way. He never would have known! “Oh, I forgot, you know everything!”
“No, Jungkook’s my friend and I remember him telling me he’d like to fuck you many, many times,” he glared right back, sticking his tongue out at you like a little kid who was fighting another kid. “So, please. I’m telling you, if you want to fuck him, I won’t judge. I mean, he looks hot without his shirt on, I have to admit it.”
“That’s not the point,” you shook your head, not even thinking about the proposed idea. All you could think about was Bunny, Bunny, Bunny. There was the slightest chance that it was Jungkook. “He’s your friend. I don’t want you to know anything about my naked body, for starters.”
“Ouch,” Taehyung placed a hand over his heart and poured you another drink. “I’m not that sleazy, and neither is Jungkook, so chill out.”
You changed the topic to a girl Taehyung was seeing this week and hoped he wouldn’t mention anything when Jungkook joined you.
A drink later, he did exactly that as soon as Jungkook walked out of his bedroom, completely dressed in a black button up and dark jeans, and sat down next to Taehyung. You sneaked a glance his way and tried to figure out whether Bunny’s body was hiding underneath those clothes. Was he Bunny?
“I’ve just had a great idea,” Taehyung informed him while handing him the drink he prepared—two thirds vodka, one third juice. “I’ll go out and leave you two to fuck.”
The suggestion made Jungkook stare at Taehyung in awe before turning his attention to you. Now, he seemed a lot more confident than earlier—he managed to look straight into your eyes as if he was waiting for you to say something. When he realized you weren’t going to indulge him, he spoke up. “What?”
“She drooled after seeing you naked. You’re trying to fuck, she’s in desperate need of a real dick, so why the hell not?” Taehyung looked at Jungkook and then at you, but you were too busy staring at each other.
Did he know?
Earlier, you hoped not, but seeing him stare at you like that told you he did. He’d never looked at you like this before, not shying away from your gaze.
He knew.
Jungkook knew you got off while watching him do the same and he suddenly gained a lot more confidence than you were used to seeing from him.
Would he mention it, though? That was the real question here.
If he did, would Taehyung ever let you live it down?
God, what would happen when Jimin found out!? The two of them would never let it go.
Would you ever be able to be in the same room as Jungkook? The worst part about it, your nights with Bunny were over, period. All chances of going back were ruined.
“I actually think it’s a great idea,” Jungkook said in a straight tone, surprising everyone in the room.
“Fuck!” Taehyung jumped up, downed his drink, and grabbed his jacket, clearly deciding to leave you two to it. “See you fuckers!”
“Tae!” You spoke up, but too late. He was already by the front door, dimming the lights. “Since you’re both awkward fucks, it’s better that the lights aren’t that bright. See you tomorrow, fuck each other’s brains out, bye!”
He slammed the door and a really long and uncomfortable silence ensued. You weren’t sure why Jungkook said what he’d said, or why you didn’t react sooner, or why Taehyung left like this was a great idea. Most of all, you were worried about your little secret and whether Jungkook would say it out loud and make it real.
Jungkook downed the drink Taehyung had given him a couple of minutes prior and then poured himself another one. He decided to pour some more vodka in your drink too, like he knew you needed it badly. Then, he sighed loudly and downed that drink too before shooting a glance at you.
“So, I think we should… Uh… Discuss this?” Jungkook said, clearing his throat before sighing again and finally looking at you for more than a second. Sadly, he did it when you least wanted it.
“W-what exactly?” Your voice gave out on you, cracking when you spoke up, so you had a bit of the drink to wash down the awkwardness. What the fuck was wrong with you? He probably didn’t even know you knew. He wasn’t Bunny, there was no fucking way. It was just Jungkook.
“Bunny,” he said the word confidently. Oh, so he was Bunny. And now he knew you knew.
The man in front of you helped you have the best orgasms you’ve ever had and now he knew it. He was Taehyung’s friend. Everyone would find out. Your reputation would be ruined, as if it hasn’t already suffered enough.
“Oh,” you said, words not coming to you. What were you supposed to say? Yeah, I jerk off to you almost every night? Embarrassing. “I’d rather not.”
“Do me a favor and do it?” He looked at you questioningly and you weren’t sure what he was referring to—did he want you to talk about it or do what Taehyung suggested?
You sighed, realizing that you couldn’t just get up and run away without talking about this with him, no matter how terrifying it sounded. It was Jungkook and you had to run into him eventually. Besides, Taehyung would try to force it out of you. “What exactly do you want to talk about?”
If he’d asked you what you thought about his dick or something as Taehyung-like as that, you would have run straight for the door and cried your way home. Thankfully, Jungkook had more tact than that. In fact, that wasn’t his biggest concern.
“I know it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his hands against his pants. “But it’s the same for me, so we’re even.”
“Uh, I think it’s weirder on my side,” you told him, not making yourself feel any better. To do that, you drank some more of your drink, thankful for the extra vodka Jungkook had added earlier. You needed something stronger if you were about to discuss this whole thing with Jungkook.
“I don’t know how to go about this, but… It’s kind of weird knowing you know what I do,” he said, looking straight ahead. “And I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk about it. To Taehyung or Jimin or, actually, anyone.”
“I won’t if you won’t,” you offered the deal without thinking—you would have done anything for this to stay between the two of you.
“Deal,” he reached out to shake your hand and you took it without hesitation. When he touched you, you realized those were the same hands you watched wrapped around his cock, the same hands that would eventually end up sprayed with coats of cum, that would caress his balls. The same hands you wished were on you so many fucking time. Fuck. “Glad we could, uh, work this out.”
“I’ll drink to that,” you said and downed the rest of your drink, getting up. “I’ll get going now.”
“You-you don’t want to stay and talk?” He asked, seemingly confused. Clearly, Jungkook didn’t think this was as embarrassing for you as it was for him. Why in the hell would you want to discuss this with him of all people? You wanted to forget it ever happened.
“About what?” You stopped dead in your tracks, unsure of what you should do.
“I mean,” he scoffed, looking down at his hands as he rested his elbows on his thighs. “If we don’t talk now, things will be extremely awkward the next time Taehyung sees us.”
Oh fuck, Taehyung. You forgot all about the fact that he thought you stayed here to fuck. He would want to hear all the details, for sure. He had probably already texted absolutely all of your mutual friends to tell them the great news of how he hit two birds with one stone tonight with you two.
“Ah, fuck,” you grunted, sitting back down, realizing that ou had to do this. “Did you have to tell him we’d fuck!?”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook really did look apologetic, you had to give him that. “I just didn’t know how else to get you to talk to me alone. I sure as fuck didn’t want to discuss this at the club.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” you nodded, imagining the horror of having a drunken public conversation about Jungkook being the livestream god that you got off to more often than not. “I mean, we could have avoided it altogether.”
You watched Jungkook as the corners of his mouth formed a smile. “And what after?” Then, he turned to look straight at you and you didn’t have an answer for him. “Things would get even weirder.”
“Face it, things will be weird,” you said with a shrug. “Please, pour some vodka.”
Jungkook did as you asked, topping up his drink as well before you both downed them, gulping like you hadn’t had a sip to drink in years. Embarrassment was a real bitch. You never usually had a problem with talking to people—whether you were sexually interested in them or not. Now it seemed that you’ve morphed into Jungkook and that both of you were equally uncomfortable around each other.
“Can we make it not weird somehow?” He suggested and you could tell he was really going through it. After all, this was the longest and most serious conversation you two have ever had.
“Okay, we’re adults,” you said, nodding before sighing deeply. Fuck, this was awkward. You’ve gotten off to Jungkook. “You have to understand that it’s really kind of embarrassing to sit here when you know I watch you.”
“Watch?” He cocked an eyebrow up, seeming more interested in the conversation all of a sudden. “Like, regularly?”
You shot him a glare, sensing that he was enjoying this piece of information a lot more than he was supposed to. “Don’t even fucking start,” you waved your hand at him. “It’s weird.”
“Well, it’s worse on this end, trust me.”
You frowned in confusion. “How the fuck is it worse?”
“You’ve seen me naked. You know what I do. You could blackmail me for life. All I know about you is that you watch online porn, wow!” He shook his head and looked down again, seeming defeated. “It’s a hell of a lot worse.”
“Okay, you have a point,” you chuckled, finally understanding his side of things. “But still, like you’ve said, I’ve seen you naked and I’ve—fuck, why does it have to be this weird—I’ve gotten off on that. That’s infinitely more weird than what you do.”
“Everyone watches porn, not everyone makes it,” he made a good point. “Besides, that’s just like a really good fucking compliment.”
You wanted to tell him that it was a compliment because he had the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen and you’ve never even thought of dicks as something nice—they were a means to a very happy end. However, you couldn’t say that. It was Jungkook, the guy who had trouble talking to you about anything serious! And you jerked off when watching him do the same and wishing he was filling you up instead of your vibrator. It was gross and weird and uncomfortable.
“Sure, but you’re just putting content out there. I really didn’t know it was you, I swear,” you said before sipping your drink again, hoping it would make this less embarrassing. It felt like you’d invaded his privacy. He had this whole secret life no one knew about and he liked it, and then you came and fucked it all up. “Had I known, I really wouldn’t have watched!”
“That’s the whole point,” he chuckled, a smile playing on his lips even after the chuckle died out. He rubbed his bottom lip with his index finger while holding his glass and staring right ahead.
“What is?” If there was a point, you completely missed it but it was no wonder, considering that you were thinking about all the times you practically drooled over Taehyung’s best friend.
“I don’t… Women don’t really like me, right?” He shrugged and it made you feel bad for him for a second. Did he really think he was that unappealing? “Not in real life anyway. But, when I go online, so many of them do.”
That was true, so fucking many women wanted a piece of him. You saw women giving him hundreds of dollars so he’d say a certain phrase or a name and if that didn’t qualify as popular with women, you didn’t know what else did. The fact that Bunny was Jungkook was shocking mostly because of the difference in self-confidence between the two. Bunny was proud to flaunt his body, Jungkook couldn’t even look at a woman for more than two seconds.
“So you don’t do it for the money?” You asked, which made him look at you and frown for a second before shaking his head.
“Not really,” he admitted without taking a second to think about your question. “Does it come in handy? Sure, I have a bigger savings account than I ever thought I would, but it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s a confidence thing, I guess,” Jungkook said after downing the rest of his drink. He looked at the bottle but then decided not to pour again. “As you know because my friends won’t stop fucking me because of it, I’m not that great at talingk to women. I say something, don’t know what else to say, can’t think of anything funny or interesting, and just, uh, fuck up in general,” he was getting flustered so he took a deep breath. “Like right now. But okay. So I started working out to feel better. I have some online friends and someone jokingly said I had a good voice and should record moaning videos. We all laughed it off but then I did it. I didn’t tell them, clearly, but I wanted to see if it would get anyone going. It did, so I created more, and then eventually it led to videos. When I posted the first one, it was the first time I got a compliment on my looks from a woman. And not the you’re-so-cute, you’re-such-a-nice-guy-, I-like-you-as-a-friend type of comment. You know what kind of comments are left on the stream. The fact that people tip is just a bonus, that option wasn’t even there in the beginning.”
“I can’t even look you in the eye when saying this, but trust me, the content is ten out of ten,” you nodded knowingly. “If you’re doing it to get more confident, you should be at least twice as confident as Tae judging by how many women enjoy you.”
Jungkook smirked at you and for a second you saw the guy he could be if he just relaxed for a fucking second when he was talking to anyone who had a pussy.
“Thanks,” he said, still looking at you. This time, you were the first one to look away, ashamed of having his eyes on you. “I do it to know that I can get women off. So that’s what I get out of it.”
“That’s totally understandable,” you said, suddenly feeling intrigued. “Has it helped you?”
Jungkook looked at you like he didn't understand, so you explained yourself. “With confidence, I mean.”
“What do you think?” He looked at you with a deadpan expression, which made you chuckle.
“Well, you’re talking to me just fine. In fact, I’m the more awkward one here right now.”
“I mean, once the worst happens, what’s there to be afraid of?” Jungkook shrugged. “You know what I do, you watched it, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m me, you’re you, we’ll just move on.”
“Maybe you should go into every conversation with women like that, thinking that they’ve watched you at one point or another, if that makes it easier,” you suggested, but he brushed it off.
“You’re not exactly all women,” he added with a scoff, but you weren’t sure what he meant by that. “You know most of my friends. I see you all the time. If some random woman at the club knew, so what? I could pretend it wasn’t me or something. But the second you saw the tattoo, I knew. Fucking Taehyung and his showing up unannounced.”
“Well, he did announce himself, you just forgot.”
“I wouldn’t have started the stream if I hadn’t forgotten, trust me,” he told you with a knowing look.
“Oh, right, you had the stream,” you said, outing yourself even more.
What Jungkook knew was that you’ve seen his live-stream before. For all he knew, it happened once, maybe twice. However, someone who’d seen him once wouldn’t have known about his uploads. Only people who were subscribed got those updates about when he’d post next.
“So you follow the streams?” He asked so matter-of-factly, as if it wasn’t such a damning fact, as if it didn’t mean you were so insanely attracted to his voice, moaning, and naked body that you followed his schedule to know when you’d be getting off next.
“Maybe,” you gulped, feeling extremely embarrassed since you were caught red-handed.
“Interesting,” Jungkook noted with a grin. “Can I ask you something?”
“After this conversation? You can ask me anything,” you laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.
“Will you continue to watch?” He asked, turning to face you again with an expression you couldn’t read. “Now that you know it’s me?”
“I don’t think so,” you told him right away because you’d make the decision before you even knew it was him. Now that you did know Bunny’s identity, it served as another deterrent from this little secret hobby of yours.
“Oh,” Jungkook said, looking at the glass again before deciding to fill it up and down the shot.
“It’s not because of you,” you tried to explain, noticing that your decision made him feel bad. After all, it did sound very rude—you wanted to watch when he was an anonymous guy, but now that you knew it was him, you’d lost interest.
“Don’t worry, I get it,” he gave you a faint smile, but you could tell it really wasn’t okay. “I mean, the whole thing is cursed.”
“What do you mean?”
“It gives me the illusion that people are into me,” Jungkook admitted with a sigh. “But here you are, following the stream so, clearly, liking the content, but now you know it’s me, you’re put off by it completely.”
“That’s not exactly true—” you tried to explain, but Jungkook cut you off.
“Like I’ve said, don’t worry. It’s not your fault. I get it, I really do. You only saw my… dick and you liked that. If it comes in a package with my face and personality, it’s not exactly a good thing,” he said, chuckling, even though he was clearly not entertained. His expression and tone would have given him off even if he hadn’t said all of that out loud.
“Stop with the whole self-demeaning thing,” you told him, which instantly made him look at you, and it felt like you were scolding a scared kid. Still, you had to say it. “Why don’t you just talk to people? How can I know anything about your personality if you don’t talk to me? This is not easy to say, okay?, but you have a great dick and a very cute face. You don’t seem like a bad guy and this shyness of yours, like I’ve said, can be a huge plus for you if you only talk to women a bit more. Have a drink if you need to and talk.”
Jungkook leaned back into the sofa and took a while to think about your words. “I know you’re right about that, but it’s not that easy. I’m clumsy with words. I don’t know how to ask for what I want, so I talk in circles. What’s the fucking point of having hundreds of women watching you when you can’t talk to a single one?”
“That sounds tough,” you agreed. It must have been really strange to have all these women lining up for him and then feeling unable to speak to a single one. He brought a lot of pleasure to a lot of women yet he got none out of it. “But you can work on it. Try to have one conversation a day or something.”
“How would you get a woman to sleep with you, if you were me?”
His question wasn’t a rhetorical one so you thought about the answer for a while. All bets were off at this point and he was clearly trying to make the most he could out of the absolute clusterfuck of a situation. “If it was a one time thing, then I’d just go straight to the point and tell the girl that I’m just looking for some fun and that she’s gorgeous. If it’s someone I like, I’d tell them that they make me flustered so it’s hard to get the words out but that I’d like a chance to prove I can be a real bunny in the bedroom.”
Jungkook scoffed and then shook his head at you, clearly disappointed with you. “Fuck you.”
“I’m joking. I’d say beast instead of bunny, makes it a lot more fierce,” you joked, downing the rest of your drinking and thinking about the next one when Jungkook took you about. “What I mean is, even if you can’t talk about it in detail, you can say something meaningful. One intimate thing is worth a lot more than three hours of nonsense. I’d just be honest if I were you.”
“So, here goes nothing,” Jungkook said before taking a deep breath. “I really, really like you and I’m a fuck-up when it comes to talking, but I’d like you to forget the fact that I’m me and give me a chance to be Bunny. For you. Without the filming. And tipping, clearly.”
The last part made you chuckle, and your nerves were to blame as well. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Why were you even thinking about it? Your pussy throbbed at the idea of him acting like Bunny in front of you, of getting naked and jerking off for you.
If you were being honest, it throbbed because this was the first time in a long time a good-looking guy made a sexual proposition and you were dying to finally feel something real. If Jungkook really wanted this, you wanted him to speak about it more, to help him get out of his shell. How would you two do anything if he couldn’t talk to you about sexual topics? It wouldn’t work.
“You want me to watch you jerk off?” You cocked your head to the side and played dumb while thoughts about him naked roamed your mind.
Jungkook chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking a deep breath. “No, I want to fuck you.”
“Okay, we’re making progress here,” you joked, but noticed he wasn’t laughing. Besides, you shouldn’t have been joking about anything—you got shivers when he said the word “fuck” like a horny obsessed creep. “I’m not taking this as a joke, I just want us to talk about it if we’re thinking about doing it.”
“You’re thinking about it?” Jungkook’s eyes widened when he realized that and it took him a while to look away this time. The fact that he found this surprising was insane. Did he not know how hot he was?
“Maybe,” you grinned, realizing that you’d already made your mind up.
Was it stupid? Yes.
Would you regret it? Maybe.
Did you want to try Bunny in person? Fuck yes.
Did you think Jungkook deserved a chance? He was a good guy, so why not?
You were ready to meet some okay dude and go home with him, so why not Jungkook? The whole reason why you never thought about fucking him was that you never even talked. Now that’s changed. Another reason you had against it was that he was close to Tae and you really didn’t want your roommate to know details about your sex life. Since Jungkook wanted to keep his Bunny thing a secret, you were sure he would never share any kind of sexual information about you with his friend.
“What do you want to talk about?” He asked eagerly and chewed on his bottom lip. You had to admit flusteredness looked hot on him.
“You,” you smiled at him, hoping he’d calm down. “Do you want another drink?”
“Nope, I’m good,” he said shortly, but then explained, as if he remembered that you wanted him to talk more. “I mean, if we do this, I want to be sober.”
“Good thinking,” you nodded at him. “I’ll have another one.”
Before your hand touched the bottle, Jungkook’s was on yours, and it felt so big and warm, so you instantly remembered what it looked like wrapped around his veiny cock. “Uhm, if… If we’re fucking, I’d like you to be present. Meaning, not wasted.”
“Oh, okay,” you nodded and moved your hand away from his. “Fair enough.”
For a minute or so, both of you were quiet, looking around.
You weren’t sure what Jungkook was thinking about—probably what he was going to talk to you about—but you were focusing on how you wanted to approach this. Did you want to wait until he made the first move, initiated everything, and took control or did you want to help him out?
One side of you wanted to make him step up, but the other side was telling you to be fair and help him out. He was already having some confidence issues, so it would probably help him more if you initiated at least the conversation.
However, Jungkook beat you to it. “How did you find the stream?”
“I…” you stopped, unsure of the best way to go about it. “Long story short, I haven’t had sex in a long time and I never really came on my own,” you admitted, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish around him, mostly because he played such a key part in the story he knew nothing about. Still, if you were going to make this more comfortable, you had to give some too. “So I decided to change it, got toys, watched porn, but I guess nothing worked. Then I got into the moaning video world and it happened.”
“Oh, cool,” he said, as if this wasn’t extremely awkward and personal for you. “So you watch other streamers as well?”
He made watching men jerk off sound like the most normal thing out there. “No, I don’t.”
Your confession made his head snap in your direction. “You only watch me?”
“Yes,” you admitted, smiling at him. “You’re that good.”
You knew that would soothe his ego, but you also knew he deserved it. It was funny how a lot less attractive men had so much more confidence than Jungkook, who had nothing wrong with him.
“Thanks,” he said, looking down with a grin he so desperately tried to hide. “And did you manage to do it?”
“Do what, sorry?”
“Come,” he said the word in a much lower tone, the one he used on stream, and it instantly made your pussy clench. You were conditioned to start soaking the second you heard his low voice talking or, even worse, moaning.
“I-I did,” you admitted, hating yourself for letting your voice falter like that. He already knew you watched him. Did he have to know he managed to get you come every single time?
“Are you ashamed of this?” Jungkook seemed concerned for a second and you appreciated the sentiment.
“Of course,” you said with a shrug. “But what can I do? I saw you naked and thought about you while getting myself off. It’s kind of embarrassing, to say the least.”
Jugkook cleared his throat before responding. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never seen you naked and I’ve jerked off to you numerous times.”
“You have?” Curiosity got the better of you and you just had to know. Besides, if you were going to fuck him, it was good to know things like this.
“Have you seen yourself?” Jungkook asked with a scoff. “Yeah, I’m that much of a loser. Can’t say a single word to you but jerk off to you when I get home.”
“Yeah. Does that gross you out?”
“Jungkook, I’ve seen you get yourself off. Nothing about it grosses me out,” you were never that shameless before, but then again, this situation was one of a kind. “And honestly, you’d get so much more pussy if you said things like this to women.”
“You think women like someone telling them they’d jerk off on them?” Jungkook asked, genuinely wondering, completely looking over or ignoring your compliment. You figured he was too ashamed to address it.
“Not everyone, sure, but some would,” you shrugged. “I mean, if I like a guy and he tells me that, I’d enjoy it. Like you said, it’s a confidence thing.”
“Good to know,” he nodded with a smile. “I mean, you’re right. If someone knows you personally and jerks off to you, it’s a really good compliment.”
“It’s a compliment even if they don’t know it’s you,” you added, knowing it would get him flustered because he’d know you were talking about him. Jungkook nodded in response, clearly thinking of what he was going to say to that.
The more you thought about it, the better the idea seemed. You know what he was hiding under those clothes and you wanted to have some fun, and so did he. Why not?
“Jungkook, do you want to fuck me?” You asked, hoping he’d be calm enough to respond.
“Yes,” he did so right away, ready for the question. “I really fucking do.”
“Whenever you let me,” Jungkook sighed.
“Do you think you’ll be good at it?” You asked, feeling like it was the right time to tease him.
“Uh, I,” he fumbled a bit but then calmed himself down with a deep breath. “If you can come just by watching me jerk off, I think I’ll be fine.”
“But that’s not all you do,” you pouted and stood up just to walk over to him and stand right between his legs, leaving him with no option other than to look up at you. “You make the sweetest sounds.”
“If you want that, you can have it,” he agreed in an instant.
“Are you sure you’re not embarrassed? Too ashamed to do this? You know we’ll have to get naked and touch each oth—” you were cut off by his sudden movement.
You were being mean, you knew it. You were teasing, but only because you were still trying to figure out whether this was something you two needed to do.
What if Jungkook wasn’t ready? He barely talked to you before that night, so you weren’t sure he’d have the guts to do much, and if the whole experience sucked, it would be really weird to see each other after.
But, then again, he was Bunny, the confident, hot guy who could now make you come just by speaking.
Jungkook cut you off mid-teasing by standing up and leaning in, as if he was just about to kiss you. “You treat me like a baby far too often for someone who gets off on me every couple of days.”
“Those two aren’t correlated,” you tried to joke your way out of it, but Jungkook was towering over you, letting you inhale the sweet scent of his cologne, and you felt so small next to him all of a sudden.
“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed with a chuckle. “The fact that watching me turns you on has nothing to do with you acting like a brat right now and trying to make me nervous.”
“Oh, and you aren’t nervous?” You cocked your head to the side and placed both hands on his chest. “I feel like you are. You’re finally getting words out, so that’s something.”
“I’ll get a lot more words out of you, trust me,” he said with an air of confidence you weren’t used to seeing from him.
Jungkook sat back down on the sofa and spread his legs, as if he was waiting for you to straddle him, so you did exactly that. You couldn’t help it—his spread thighs looked so inviting, even when they were covered by jeans. Two could play this game and you were determined to win. You could swear he shuddered when you sat on him and placed your hands on his shoulders, but you didn’t think much of it—it was normal to be nervous in this situation.
“Are you sure about that?” You asked cockily when you realized he was speechless.
In response, Jungkook started to unbutton his shirt until all you could see in front of yourself was his naked chest. Then, he leaned back against the sofa, letting himself fall into the cushions. “Are you sure?”
“Hm,” you hummed in agreement and let your hands wander over his chest. When you touched him, you felt his body stiffen under you, but Jungkook relaxed and let your cold hands touch him all over his warm chest and you enjoyed every second of it. It was all a lot firmer, smoother, and more real than you’d imagined. “I wonder how a handsome guy like you has so much trouble with girls.”
The compliment made Jungkook flush, but he steered the conversation elsewhere. “Are you going to keep that on?”
You looked down at your shirt and quickly got it over your head, which left you only in your bra. Jungkook seemed to enjoy the sight a lot more than you thought he would and for a while, his eyes were glued to your lace covered breasts. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“That was a question?” He cocked an eyebrow up and grinned. “I thought you were just being a bitch.”
His remark made you laugh and he seemed to enjoy you doing that. “While I’m known to be a bitch from time to time, that wasn’t my intention,” you said while slowly moving your hands up to his face until you had it in your hands, your palms holding the backs of his jawbone, directing his head the way you wanted it to face. “I was actually trying to give you a compliment.”
“It came out kind of backhanded,” Jungkook grinned while looking straight into your eyes, your hands on his head. “You could have just said something about how much you liked my dick if you were really trying to compliment me.”
You appreciated the cockiness of his tone and liked the fact that he was starting to open up. “See? If you acted this way around women, you’d have no trouble getting them to fuck you.”
Jungkook placed his hand over yours and looked you straight in the eye. “Can we stop talking about these hypothetical women? I couldn’t care less about other women right now. You’re sitting on my dick. Fuck other women.”
You laughed again and slowly moved away from him. “How about we take this to your bedroom? I’d like to see you in action.”
“This is the least romantic proposition I’ve ever received,” Jungkook joked, but still got up swiftly and took you to the bedroom while getting rid of his belt and shirt in the process. For someone who was complaining so much, he seemed to be very eager to get naked.
“That’s rich coming from you, Bunny,” you joked too, knowing you’d hit a nerve, but Jungkook just laughed heartily.
“I sort of had that one coming,” he shrugged and closed the door behind you. “But I mean, this is the exact opposite of romantic. I-I, we haven’t even kissed. And we still have our clothes on.”
“Then let’s take it off,” you said and got rid of your pants, bra, and then panties, all the while Jungkook stood there leaning against the bedroom door, watching you in what seemed like awe, but you guessed it was just horniness. “What about you?”
“Oh, right,” he snapped out of it quickly and got out of his pants and boxers, showing you the dick you felt like you knew personally by then. Fuck, it looked even better and smoother in person. Seeing a naked man after such a long time already felt amazing on its own, but coupled with the fact that he was that good-looking, the experience turned into something you wouldn’t be able to forget. “Like what you see?”
You nodded, not even wanting to pretend you had something funny to say about it. You were sure he could already tell by the way your mouth gaped at the sight of his erect dick. “You’re even better in person, if that means anything for your ego.”
“It sure fucking does,” he smiled softly, which seemed such a contrast from his naked body that was calling you to touch it. “You said you wanted to see me?”
“If you don’t mind,” you looked at him questioningly and when he nodded, you moved to the bed and sat down on it, unsure of what to do. Jungkook was right about one thing and it was the lack of romance or anything similar. The whole thing was weird from start to finish, but you were sure you’d make it work.
“One thing, though,” he said after he walked over to his computer desk—that computer desk—and got the lube. “I’d like to watch you too.”
“Oh,” you mouthed and decided that it was only fair. Why would he put on a show for you and get nothing in return? What’s fair is fair. “At the same time?”
“Just do it like you always do it,” he teased, making you roll your eyes at him. He was right though, that’s exactly how it went. You’d watch Bunny and get yourself off.
“Well, I usually have a vibrator,” you told him, knowing this would get him all worked up. The fact that he started to stroke himself dry served as proof of your prediction being true.
“Fuck, that sounds nice,” Jungkook said, biting his lip. “Can you manage without it?”
“I won’t come,” you said, stacking the two pillows on top of each other so you could rest against them and stare right at Jungkook, who was standing at the edge of the bed, his erection in hand. Your confession made him sad.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked, seeming worried about this, which got him even more points in your book. The amount of guys you knew that just didn’t really care if their partner came was astounding, sadly. “How do you usually do it with a guy?”
“Oral,” you said, not knowing whether that was even his thing, but his smile he gave you reassured you.
“Want me to eat you out?” Jungkook suggested and you had a hard time thinking about anything else other than his lips and tongue on you and those fucking gorgeous fingers inside of you.
“No,” you said, making him frown instantly. “Give me the lube,” you said and he threw it on the bed next to you, so you took it, squirted some in your hand, and threw it back at him. “Let me watch for a while and then you can eat me out.”
“Deal,” Jungkook nodded and squirted a generous amount of lube on his cock. “Want me to lie down, stand, sit?”
“Whatever feels good for you,” you told him honestly. Did it matter? If you got to see his cock in action, you’d be happy.
“Standing then,” he shrugged and lifted one leg on the bed, allowing you an even better view of his firm thighs, balls, and cock.
Jungkook slowly started to stroke himself, but since you were so used to it and knew what was coming, you reached down and started rubbing your clit. When he saw you do that, Jungkook immediately sped up his pace. “Do you usually do it like that?”
You hummed in agreement, unable to take your eyes off his big cock.
“You like watching me?” He asked the question he used so much in his streams, making you clench around nothing. “I knew you would.”
You nodded, without even thinking about it.
Jungkook wasn’t the dominant one here, not at all. If anything, it should have been you—you were the older one, the one with more sexual experience, the one who was able to have conversations with those of the opposite sex. You had more confidence in general and weren’t afraid to ask for what you wanted when you wanted it. Yet, he was the one talking and having you melt like it was your first time seeing a man.
“Does it seem big enough for you?”
“Fuck yes,” you decided to respond to this one, wanting to make him as weak as you seemed. “It will fit so nicely.”
“Right?” Jungkook asked, his voice suddenly shaky, and you just knew he was imagining being right inside of you. “Right in your pretty little cunt.”
“Yes,” you agreed, feeling yourself getting soaked. The tone of voice he used now was different from the Bunny one, it wasn’t that deep or fake, so you enjoyed it even more, even though you thought that wasn’t humanly possible. “I can’t wait for you to fuck me, Jungkook.”
“I know, baby,” he responded, using the nickname he so often used in the live-streams. You didn’t like it when guys called you that—it was overused and felt cheap since they used that nickname for every single girl they dated. None of it mattered now and you wanted to hear him call you baby all night. “You’ve been wanting this for a long time, huh?”
“Very long,” you hissed the words as your clit finally started to respond to your quick movements. “Too long.”
“I think so too,” he said, moving his leg down from the bed and walking over so he was standing on the side of the bed, a lot closer to you. He was still tugging at his hard cock. “We should have done this sooner.”
“Speak up sooner next time,” you teased, thinking it was a good idea.
Jungkook reached for your face, gently grabbed your chin and made you look up at him. “I’ll just put it in you if you keep this up.”
You’d never thought a threat could sound as attractive as that, but Jungkook made it possible. The fact that the shy guy who couldn’t even look at you before was now saying this was surprising in itself, let alone your reaction to it.
“You say that like it’s a threat,” you said, having a hard time focusing on his eyes when his dick was right there, so fucking close you could touch it.
Jungkook groaned in frustration. “I’m really trying to be nice and do whatever you ask of me. You said you wanted to watch, so I’m giving you a show. But now you’re just teasing me.”
“You’re right, sorry,” you licked your lips. “I just like teasing you.”
The response seemed to please him, so he continued touching himself. “You know what’s funny? It takes me so long to come during the stream, but if you were right in front of me, I’d come so fast.”
“Already coming?” You said, jokingly, but he didn’t seem to appreciate the joke. “I’m kidding. I’d really like to see you come all over yourself.”
“Since you’re here, I’d much rather come all over you,” Jungkook responded, making your breath hitch in your throat.
“Sounds good,” you agreed and started rubbing yourself faster, to which he groaned, and that in turn made you hiss and buck your hips into your hand.
“What is it? Like it when I make sounds for you?” He said, knowing the answer very well. “You sure fucking do. You love watching me touch my dick, you like watching me come, you love hearing me. You get off to me so fucking often, right?”
You nodded, feeling too weak to respond. Your fucking vagina was playing tricks on you again and you felt like you wouldn’t come even though you were having the time of your life. Everything was right—the mood, the guy next to you, the way you were touching your clit, but it just wasn’t happening.
“Say it,” Jungkook said in a harsher tone, which immediately made you want to respond.
“I watch you almost every day, Jungkook,” you said with a grunt, losing any bit of decency you had left. If he’d use this information against you, so be it. “Whenever you’re on, almost. I love watching you so much.”
“Why?” He asked, enjoying every single word that came out of your mouth.
“You always seem so clean and smooth. Your skin looks perfect, your fingers are so long and your dick is big, so I always imagine them in me,” you stopped and moaned when the pressure you were applying to your clit became too much.
“You think about me fucking you?”
“A lot,” you admitted, enjoying the way your words affected him. “You make me come so fast. Two, three minutes, and I’m out.”
This made Jungkook smile widely. “Can I come over you? Shower your tits with cum?”
You nodded without thinking. If it meant he wouldn’t fuck you, so be it. You wanted to see him come. It felt like the perfect payback for all the time he’s made you come.
“Good girl,” he grinned and moved closer, offering you his dick to suck. “Take just the tip, huh? Just a little bit.”
Instead of responding, you leaned in and wrapped your lips around his warm, wet tip and got the most guttural moan you’ve ever heard from him. Instinctively, Jungkook thrust into your mouth, but thankfully, he didn’t get too far in because you were still sitting away from him. “Fucking hell, you feel so good,” he mumbled and reached down to take a fistful of your hair. Instead of pulling your hair, he started grazing your scalp with his fingers, being a lot more gentle than you’d imagined. “Your tongue will finish me, fuck.”
You hummed against his cock and brought a hand up to grope his thigh a couple of times before moving on to grab his balls. When you did that, Jungkook kicked his head back and moaned your name. You were no longer touching yourself —you wanted to focus solely on him, so you did exactly that, but you wanted to feel something as soon as you heard him moan like that, enjoying himself so much.
“Right there, hmhm,” Jungkook moaned, continuing to play with your hair while looking down at you with his cock in your mouth and balls in your hand. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me. You’re insanely hot, you have no idea… Fuck, right there.”
You continued to moan and hum against his cock, knowing that the vibrations made him feel even better. Soon enough, Jungkook pulled out of your mouth and continued to touch himself. “I can come over you? Quick?”
You nodded and then heard him grunt your name before streaks of white sticky liquid shot out of his cock and landed across your breasts and stomach. You were sure some ended up on Jungkook’s sheets, but you couldn’t have cared less in that moment.
There was something so mouth-watering about seeing such a handsome guy with such a nice dick use it to get himself all over you, and knowing you helped make that happen. Jungkook held onto the wall with one hand as he milked himself out over you, enjoying the sight.
“You’re so amazing,” he mumbled at you, trying to calm his breathing down. “My turn?”
You nodded and before you knew it, he was between your legs, his full lips latching onto your clit while his two fingers circled your entrance. He touched you and moaned the second he realized your hole was hot, soaking, and ready for him, so he shoved both fingers in and sucked on your clit while using the other hand to grope your buttcheek.
Fucking Jungkook and his fucking long fingers and nimble tongue! It was embarrassing that it took him less than a minute of oral to get you to come with a scream of his name and a hard grip of his curly hair, but it happened and you couldn’t feel bad about it, not when he’d just jerked off in front of you and brought your wildest fantasies to life.
Since he kept sucking on your clit even though you just came, you pushed him away to stop him and saw how messy he was with your slick all over his face, a string of it connecting his chin to your pussy.
“Ugh,” you shook your head, feeling embarrassed. “Wipe your mouth, I’m all over you.”
“That’s my favorite part,” Jungkook grunted, but got up to get the towel, like you asked.
When he came back, he found you in the same position, lying on your back, your legs spread, trying to catch your breath. You just couldn’t come to terms with the fact that a) Jungkook was Bunny, b) you were attracted to Jungkook, and c) you two had just made each other come.
“You okay?” He said, sitting down next to you, handing you the towel.
“This was the first time I came with a guy in like, what?, a year?” You sighed, feeling completely satisfied, for a change. “So I’m enjoying it.”
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Somehow, you didn’t really know how, you agreed to sleep over. It was late and you didn’t want to face Taehyung, so what was the point of going home and having Taehyung verbally attack you until you told him what had happened? It wouldn’t have been a good idea.
Besides, you didn’t want to ruin such a satisfactory night by stressing over your roommate. You’d deal with it tomorrow.
Jungkook offered you an extra toothbrush, warm cloth, coconut oil to get rid of your makeup, and a moisturizer, which was so funny considering you thought he knew next to nothing about women. Then, he gave you one of his big t-shirts and asked you to sleep next to him which you did.
Well, you tried.
It was hard to fall asleep because your heart was racing. You thought it was due to all the drinks earlier, but you knew it was because of the man sleeping next to you. He was so fucking good at oral, he was great at turning you on, he was funny and charming when he wasn’t dying from embarassment, and you couldn’t believe that was the Jungkook you knew.
Or well, didn’t know.
He couldn’t sleep either, so both of you kept tossing and turning around until Jungkook spoke.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you responded, hoping you didn’t sound weird. “Trying to calm down so I can sleep.”
“Oh,” he sighed. “Me too. Eventful night.”
“Truly,” you wholeheartedly agreed and tried to be funny. “You’re really good at this, Bunny.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook replied, not sounding convinced. You could tell something was on his mind, his tone was different. “Can I ask you something?”
“After this, you can ask me anything,” you repeated yourself after going a step further than the last time you’d said it.
Jungkook cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you kiss me? Do you even like kissing?”
“I love it,” you admitted, feeling like it was a lot easier to be honest now that you were in the dark.
“So?” His breath seemed shaky and you weren’t sure if this was really bothering him.
“I guess there was just no opportunity.”
“I guess,” he agreed, even though it didn’t sound like he meant it.
He was right, though, it was weird. You could have kissed when you were straddling him, but you didn’t. Still, you weren’t the only player in this game.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” You asked him back, throwing the ball in his court.
“I don’t know. I’m a pussy,” he said nonchalantly, so much so that it made you laugh out loud.
“Want us to kiss now?” You were the one to offer, unable to find a downside to it. You’d already touched each other, so a kiss wouldn’t make or break anything.
Jungkook hummed in agreement so you turned to face him and he did the same. You were the first one to lean in, but he was the first one to kiss and it was sweet, short, and gentle, and his lips gently rubbed against yours. It was so simple, but it made you want more.
Still, you didn’t want to do the most and try to initiate something again. Instead, you simply enjoyed the kisses. First, they were pecks, then they got a bit deeper with your wet lips gliding against the other’s, making you feel warm all over. Then, you felt Jungkook’s tongue probing your lips and you let it enter and play with yours, which instantly got you in the mood. However, Jungkook didn’t overdo it. He went back to slow kissing until the both of you were out of breath, so he pulled away first and took a deep one.
“You’re a great kisser,” he told you.
“You too,” you said it back, meaning it wholeheartedly. Anyone who could get you to lose your breath when just kissing you was amazing at it.
Somehow, you both managed to fall asleep. It wasn’t a good night’s sleep—you tossed and turned, woke up and then went back to sleep, and in the end felt like you didn’t get a wink of sleep.
The clock on Jungkook’s nightstand said it was 4AM when you woke up next, so you exhaled loudly and threw your hands down on the covers, angry at yourself for not being able to fall asleep. You were wondering whether you should just give up on sleeping and go home. Jungkook turned on his side and spoke, which scared you—you weren’t expecting him to be awake too.
“Everything okay?” He sounded a lot more sleepy than you. In fact, it sounded like he was still half-asleep.
“Can’t sleep,” you whispered to him. “You go back to sleep, okay?”
Instead of responding, Jungkook reached out, wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into his frame, so the side of your body was pressed against the front of his. “Better?”
“We’ll see,” you said and closed your eyes, enjoying his warmth against your body, feeling a lot calmer than you did before. It seemed like Jungkook had so much experience with women, he knew exactly how to pull you in closer, how to hug you so he wasn’t squeezing you too hard.
Jungkook rested his head next to yours, so you could hear his now quiet breathing and allow it to lull you to sleep. You stretched out your neck and groaned while doing so, feeling stiff and tired.
You didn’t expect Jungkook to react to this, but his body did—you could suddenly feel him hardening against your side. Being as mean as you were, you slowly pushed your side into him, trying to feel out if he was really sporting an erection.
“Sorry,” he mumbled into your ear. “The sounds got me.”
“You really need to stop apologizing for everything,” you told him with a low chuckle.
“I thought that was a part of my charm,” he teased back, suddenly sounding a lot more awake.
“Well, your dick is also a part of it, so you don’t have to apologize,” you responded, which made him move his hand up from your waist to the side of your face and cup it gently.
“Can I kiss you?” Jungkook asked. “Just a kiss.”
You nodded and he leaned in. The kiss seemed to last forever and you wouldn’t change a single thing about it—it was the perfect kiss. It was slow, lazy, wet, warm, sensual, and you never wanted him to stop. The more Jungkook kissed you, the more you wanted him, evident by the way your insides were starting to grow warmer and your pussy was starting to dampen.
You were the one to stop the kiss just to mutter a question at him. “Are you tired?”
“What do you have in mind?” He asked, pecking your lips and rubbing your cheek with his thumb. The whole situation felt a whole lot more intimate than it should, but you blamed it on fatigue, exhaustion, and chemistry between the two of you. You two weren’t romantically interested in each other—you were just two people who really needed to get off.
You reached down under the sheets and cupped his cock. “I’d really like to feel you inside.”
Jungkook hummed gently and pecked your lips as his hand made its way to your crotch, which he promptly cupped in return. “I’m never too tired for that.”
It all happened fairly quickly, but it was because you were both clearly so fucking eager to get laid, even after you both came hours earlier. Nothing beat sex, though.
Jungkook’s fingers quickly find their way under your underwear, where he grazed your crotch gently. Before you knew it, you were grabbing him tighter and pulling him in closer, which he took as a sign to ease two fingers inside of you. That was enough for you to moan gently, trying to keep it together. It just felt so fucking good to have someone finally touch you.
“Good?” Jungkook asked once he started to finger you and you nodded before kissing him again, trying to focus on the feeling of his fingers inside of you.
When Jungkook felt how wet and ready you were for him, it was his turn to grunt. You could tell he was trying to keep it down, but the grunt made him sound like Bunny and the memories came flooding in, making you even more eager for him.
Then, Jungkook decided to get rid of your underwear, following your lead. It didn’t take him long to get on top of you and prop himself up on one elbow while holding his dick in his other hand. “Condom?” Jungkook asked, and you could see he was hoping it was a no.
By this point, your eyes were used to the darkness, the only source of light being the clock on his nightstand. That’s why you could see how his eyes grew wider as he waited for your response.
“I’m on the pill for hormones,” you informed him, which made his face light up. “Are you clean?”
He eagerly nodded in agreement. “I got tested last year. Didn’t have sex since then.”
You chuckled at the admission. “We’re in the same fucking boat.”
“And I’m really fucking happy about that,” he mumbled in response as he positioned his tip at your entrance. Then, he looked up at your eyes, smiled, and gently inserted his cock into you, allowing your pussy to engulf it hungrily and get accustomed to his girth.
It was a lot to take in, but thankfully, you had a vibrator for practice and you were so fucking wet you though it would glide right in. Besides, his fingers did a good job of getting you ready for this.
A minute of shallow thrusting later, his cock finally made its way in and out easily, and it made you groan and kick your head back. Jungkook was keeping his distance from you, propped up on his palms as he started to thrust into you gently, groaning with each thrust.
For a while, you tried to focus on him and take it all in—his facial expressions, the way his hair fell over his face, how his arms and chest muscles flexed as he held himself up, how easily he moved his hips. The thing you couldn’t stop staring at was the point where your bodies connected, his body between your legs, his cock entering you, disappearing inside of your wetness and then reappearing, red and hard, slick with your juices.
“Come,” you said, wrapping your hands around Jungkook’s shoulders and pulling him in closer. “I like to be close.”
That was a lie, though.
You usually didn’t like to be close to guys when fucking them—you didn’t appreciate the stickiness, the sweat, feeling someone’s heavy body on you. All of these things distracted you from enjoying what was happening between your legs.
With Jungkook, however, none of it mattered. You wanted to feel close to him, mostly because it was so late and you were both tired and worn out and he kissed you and touched your cheek so gently earlier and you wanted more comfort from him, so you pulled him into your chest.
“You do?” He asked, kissing your neck, his mouth leaving a wet trail behind. You tangled your fingers in his curls and grazed his scalps, presuming he liked it since he’s done it to you. “Never thought you were that type.”
For someone who talked to women so rarely, Jungkook sure read them well. “I’m not usually, but I am tonight.”
“I see,” he seemed to be happy with your response, you could tell by the way he started thrusting harder and kissing your neck.
Now that he was on top of you, he could sneak one hand beneath you and pull you in closer by the waist while continuing to kiss your neck. You played with his hair, tugging at it, getting him to moan and groan even more.
The sex was slow and steady, soft, without any awkwardness that was visible earlier. You figured a lot of it had to do with the fact that you were practically in the dark and so, so tired. Despite asking for kisses earlier, Jungkook still didn’t seem so comfortable giving them.
“Ah, fuck!” Jungkook grunted and quickly pulled out, following the action with a loud hiss. “Fuck!”
You immediately winced at the loss of his hard, warm cock inside of you. “What’s wrong?”
“I almost came,” he shook his head, once again on his elbows. “Sorry.”
“Jungkook, relax,” you said, pulling him in closer once again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and head so you could kiss his cheek and whisper to him. “It’s just me, relax… Put it back in. You can come whenever you’d like.”
“You first,” he shook his head.
“If you touch my clit, I’ll scream,” you said, explaining to him that you felt too sensitive for that. The fact that you’d touched it yourself and then he tongued it made the bud hard and sensitive to touch, and you didn’t want to overdo it. “So, fuck me some more.”
Jungkook eased himself into you with a loud grunt, “Fuck, you’re tight...”
“Why don’t you kiss me?” You suggested, hoping he would, and Jungkook did as asked, his mouth quickly finding yours as he kept thrusting into you slow and steady, making you feel all sorts of warm inside.
You weren’t sure which one of you was enjoying the kiss more because you were both moaning into the kiss and groping each other. You were squeezing and smacking his firm ass, wanting him to go harder, while Jungkook touched every part of you he could reach, his mouth never leaving yours.
“I never want to come,” he mumbled into the kiss, which made you both chuckle. “You’re so warm… Don’t want to pull out…”
“Fuck me,” you told him, even though he was already doing that—and he was amazing at it.
As if those words did something to him, Jungkook rested his forehead on the pillow right next to your head and reached down to grab both your buttocks, lifting them up a bit so he could continue to thrust into you, this time a lot more quicker and harder seeing as he was holding your hips and that gave him more support.
As soon as he started doing that, he hit your g-spot—you could tell by the way a moan escaped your lips unintentionally and how your pussy clenched around him. His dick was big enough to reach it and you couldn’t remember the last time that happened.
“Like that, huh?” Jungkook mumbled, leaning his head to the side so he could whisper into your ear and peck your cheek. Then, he thrust into you even harder and chuckled when you let out an even louder moan and dug your fingers into his ass, enjoying every second of it. “You love it when someone rams you hard… Fuck, you’re tight! Ugh!”
It sounded like his words turned you both on equally—he loved hearing them as much as you did. Whenever he said something dirty, your mind instantly flew to all the fun you had with Bunny in the background. And now here you were, with him, in his fucking bed, fucking him.
“Go harder, Jungkook,” you whispered back, turning your face to the side to kiss him, fingers now grazing his back all the way down to his ass. “I want more.”
“More?” He asked with a chuckle. “Sure.”
With that, he started moving so fast your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you lost breath for a second. Each thrust helped him hit your g-spot hard, so hard that you were wrapping your legs around his waist and clenching, never wanting him to stop.
Jungkook seemed to get how good the position felt so he kept going, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he held it above the bed and pounded you hard, so hard you couldn’t help but groan and swear at him.
What was so great about the position was that your chest was pressed against his and you felt like he was in complete control of it, holding you, ramming his cock into you, and all you could do was wrap your legs around his waist tighter and grip his hair to show him how good he was making you feel.
“Fuck, keep going,” you grunted, feeling something strange, but good, inside of you. Jungkook’s cock kept hitting your g-spot every time he shoved his dick inside of you, and it made you clench around him each time, feeling wetter with each second. If this was the build-up of an orgasm, it was different from the ones you’ve experienced so far, but you knew it would be just as good. “Right there, Jungkook, fuck!”
Jungkook grunted at your words and tried to keep the same pace, but you could tell he was getting tired. After all, it was the middle of the night and he was holding you up by the hips while slamming his cock into you hard and quick. You could feel he was getting sweatier quickly, his curly hair sticking to the sides of his face, which was resting against yours, allowing you to feel him so close to you.
The moans that were coming out of his mouth were suppressed and a lot softer and quieter than the ones you were used to hearing from him—on stream, at least. Still, they managed to turn you on just the same.
Instead of overthinking the fact that you were fucking Jungkook and that you’d have to deal with this somehow, you closed your eyes and focused solely on him—the thrusts of his hips, his cock inside of you, touching you right where you needed him, his soft moaning right next to your ear, his hands holding you tight.
The more you relaxed, the better the feeling inside of you got. The build-up was slow and then it started to bring you so much pleasure you couldn’t help but groan his name and hold onto him tighter.
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Jungkook seemed to be reacting to the sounds you were making. “I’ll come if you don’t stop.”
The idea of having Jungkook come was appealing but so was the idea of him fucking you for a bit longer. Still, you didn’t want to ruin his fun.
“Come, Jungkook,” you gripped his hair and kissed the side of his face, both of you sweaty and panting. “It’s okay…”
“You’re so fucking tight, it’s hard to control it,” he grunted, finally relaxing enough say more than a couple of words. Jungkook squeezed your ass tight and continued to ram himself into you and it seemed so desperate—he was going so fast now, trying to get off, and the whole thing turned you on even more. “So tight and wet… Perfect for my cock…”
“Yeah, yeah,” you moaned, feeling like you were about to burst. “You feel so good.”
“So do you,” he mumbled with a chuckle and then he started to go really hard, which made you kick your head back, scream his name, and let him do whatever he wanted.
As if that was what he was waiting for, Jungkook now let your hips fall to the bed and then he started to go as fast as possible, the sounds of skin hitting skin filling the room, accompanied by his loud grunts. When he realized you were enjoying the sound she was making, he smirked, looking straight into your eyes.
“I forgot you liked that,” he said cockily, continuing to thrust.
“Shut up,” you grunted, but didn’t have the energy to argue when you did in fact like it, a lot more than he realized.
“Hold onto me,” he suggested, and you wrapped your hands around him, holding onto his shoulders.
The stamina on him was clearly amazing, but the force he used was even more astonishing. Jungkook started to thrust so hard that he pushed you into the bed and the bed into the wall. This had obviously happened to him before, which is why he asked you to hold onto him, and you had no problem with it. You liked it rough.
Each thrust made your whole body vibrate as you gripped onto his shoulder, not wanting to move away too far and lose the feeling of his girthy dick filling you up. What the force of his thrust also taught you was that he was big enough to touch your g-spot ev