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missgeniality · 2 years

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Touchless | A Keynote Oneshot (m)

“Touch has a memory.” - John Keats

➺ Banner: Are you even surprised at @kithtaehyung‘s talent? <3

➺ Pairing: Hoseok x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Non-Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: +18

➺ Word Count: 8.6k

➺ Summary: Characteristic to your dynamic, temptations take control of this night at the party - but not without a divide.

➺ Warnings: Sexting... but... make it 1800s, phone sex/mutual masturbation, its this Hoseok and I’m scared 😔, name calling, degradation (not much!), masturbation on an object(?), cum eating (kinda) lmao, alcohol, we make out a lot honestly 😐

➺ Cross Posted: AO3

➺ Author’s Note: Yayy! Finally finished this. Shows how big of a chokehold this Hoseok has on me. This is a continuation of Keynote, but it can be read as a standalone! Big thanks to my beautiful betas, @taegularities as always listened to me complain without ripping my head off, and did such a good job betaing and cleaning this up, and @playmetheclassics who took out time from her already hectic schedule to give me many useful suggestins and opinions that made this much much better. I love you too, thank you so much!! Please let me know what you thin! 💛

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

The first drops of the cocktail in your hand slide down your throat, leaving a grimace on your face in its wake. With the funky ambience of the venue, along with the beats that diffuse through the place, this funky, deep-red cocktail matches the mood around you.

It’s unlike any other party you’ve been to since your college days ended. And for the most part, you’re liking it. Your body unintentionally grooves to the music, your tongue getting used to the numbing effect of the drink, eyes dilating to lose focus on your surroundings. But amidst this raucous crowd, you’re hiding. And you don’t know why.

Well, that’s not the whole truth, you know who the reason is. But the reason why that one person is evoking this fight or flight in you is up for debate.

Tonight is the first time you’ve shared a space with Hoseok in a casual manner ever since that night. Most of those shared days flew like a falcon, the clock hands racing against each other as all of you raced against time. And those times, everything was pretty normal, barring maybe a few cheeky glances.

May have been more than a few.

Apart from those, conversations passed normally, work flowed seamlessly, and your visits to his impressive building were met with an industrious and diligent version of the man. Which was perfect to keep your dwindling resistance at least within the lines of your professional capacity.

But now, while letting your hair loose, that hidden tension is tangible, so taut, risking snapping your sanity.

Maybe it’s because last time you two were at a casual function, the night ended wildly differently. The anticipation of drinking yourself to sleep was overthrown, and then all that happened . A single thread of thought working its way across your synapses is that this night could be close to it – you have to keep biting the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from deliberately making eye contact with him to turn that into reality. The shy smile you’re trying to put up hopefully belies the true feelings you hold within.

Also doesn’t help that he looks fucking hot today.

Hoseok, when inviting everyone for this team hangout to celebrate a milestone, did tell you to freak out with the outfits. “We can have theme parties without it being Halloween, so go hard!” you heard his cheery voice announce to the emptying conference room. And as requested, everyone went hard.

But time and again, you’re reminded that no one goes as hard as Jung Hoseok.

The deep red moto jacket is perfectly paired with pants of the same material. With zippers on every corner of the crumpled duo, you have to subdue the itch in your hand to undo every single one of them. He’s done his hair up, and added a white-rimmed pair of futuristic glasses, and when you think that was all you need to handle, his fluid dance movements carelessly lets the sleeve of his jacket slip, the loose, skimpy vest he wore underneath exposing the side of his body. The stem of your margherita glass is in a chokehold right now, because you are fucking turned on. There’s no better way to say it.

Your undoing depends on the undoing of the zippers, and you’re dedicated to undoing every single one of them if given the chance.

You, on the other hand, have obnoxious suspenders digging into your breasts, their clip attached to the waist of your red high-rise pants. The leather sticks to your skin, but thankfully, the air conditioning keeps it from fully vacuum sealing your thighs. They are one half of a bad bitch red suit you bought many years ago, thinking every office space is like The Devil Wears Prada .

Unfortunately, they’re more Fifty Shades Of Grey, and not the fun kind.

The silk shirt you pair it with is snugly tucked in, the cream white offsetting the blaring red downstairs, letting the people you face breathe without a colour suffocation. With your cuffs folded up to your elbows, your toned down professional look brings many appreciative glances. One of them being from Park Yoonsu, your counterpart working under Kim Taehyung.

“I don’t think anyone but you has pants like these,” Yoonsu chuckles appreciatively, “there’s a sea of red shirts but hardly any pants.”

“Yeah, well, they had a small thing called common sense,” you sip on your drink, “who in their right mind buys these? And you won’t believe me if I say it—”

“Girls!” Hyejoon, a senior staff engineer, interrupts your conversation with a boom. “Are y’all having fun? I don’t see a change of your drinks yet,” they give you a warning look, the alcoholism-encouraging gaze telling you to speed it up. Yoonsu shrugs at them.

“We will get refills soon, Y/N was just telling me about her fashion terrorism days.”

“Fuck that,” you sidetrack, and as Soomin, your extremely lazy coworker, walks up to your side, you nudge him for an answer as well. “You too, what is up with Byeongho? Has the old man been troubling y’all enough?” Yoonsu is already in the process of rolling her eyes, and Soomin follows suit. “Why is he so difficult to handle?”

Hyejoon can only sigh in response. “Grin and bear, darlings. If you want your project funding,” they roll a finger at Yoonsu, the most irritable of this cadre, “grin. And bear.”

“No, but how can you justify this?” Yoonsu jumps at the reprimand, even setting her drink down to let both her hands express her anguish. “It’s three in the afternoon, a hot Friday. And he calls us across town for an open discussion .” She turns to prompt a voice of agreement, and you find Soomin slapping the table top – evidently, he was a participant on that taxing day.

“Guess what was actually open? His mouth. Never closed that damned thing.”

“And his zipper. Didn’t bother closing that either,” Soomin adds.

A short burst of giggles erupts among your group, laced with very well-deserving sympathy. The man was a pain to handle, his futile questions stumping the best of you. And with your recent job upgrade, you’ve had to see more of him; more than you’d like.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Yoongi as mad as he was with Byeongho. The way he was fiddling with the paper weight,” you reminisce, “I’m sure he had a good mind to stuff his yapping mouth with it.”

Hyejoon ushers everyone towards the nearest bar counter, and you proceed to empty your glass. As you walk, Soomin continues the woes.

“He also has no understanding of resource allocation versus output expectation. ‘Aren’t you all established engineers? Can’t you even do this much ?’ Ugh.” Soomin mimics the exact words you’ve heard from Byeongho many times; his intolerable management-ass catchphrase. “One day he’s going to expect us to walk him to the moon, armed solely with our diplomas.”

“If it means leaving his ass there, I might just do it.”

Your quiet quip releases a roar of laughter amidst your group, the anguish of dealing with stuck-up representatives releasing into the wind. Perched at this bar, you four continue to laugh it up, fetters of corporate unshackling with every roll of mirth produced. Minutes fly by in merry guffaws, precious minutes that slip under your radar, minutes of you letting your guard down. Minutes when you couldn’t keep tabs on the man you’re wary of.

And somehow, he’s right behind you.

No, you do not speak. You don’t really register his presence behind you until it is too late. But as you habitually wrap your hand behind your back as a casual stance, something disturbs your palm, and before you can turn around and find the source, the piece of paper lays in your hand.

With a calm demeanour, you turn your back towards the raucous group, and open the piece of paper in your hand.

“Hey good lookin’. Wanna spice up this boring evening?”

Under the question, there are two checkboxes.

A “Thank you for saving me, yes!” and a “Not at all you creep, this is a professional setting.”

And in the end, a “- Hoseok :)”

This is why you were avoiding him.

Because the way your heart is trying to tear through your ribs on getting a note from him, you’re sure you’d have a novel heart attack if you actually talked . Your confidence falters, quakes at its ankles every time he is concerned. Is this what 1700s couples felt like? A whole organ threatening to tear its way out of your body with its aggressive flutters? No wonder cocaine was normally prescribed medication.

You look up to check for prying eyes, but no one seems to be paying attention to your suspiciously bent figure. What you find instead has you confirm it is Hoseok, because he is currently standing two tables away from you – and last time your satellite was functional, he was quite a distance away.

So.

Deep breath .

You open the chit again.

“Hey! Whatcha fiddling with?” Yoonsu breaks your reverie, almost making you jolt, but thankfully she doesn’t peer too hard. “Hangyeol says there’s some mulled wine near the entrance – do you want some?”

“Yeah! Get me a glass please!”

An echo of “you got it” reaches your ears as they move away from you, but it never fully registers, because all your focus returns to stare at the piece of paper in your hand, weighing your options and fears.

What should you do? Hoseok, the gentleman that he is, is giving you a very easy way out of this.

And every muscle in you is repelled by the option. Out? Which way is that?

But you leave it unchecked for now. With a hasty scribble, you add a new blank to the end of the note.

“ Query: Might this be a continuation of our night? ”

You join a different circle of colleagues – thankfully, corporate society is fairly welcoming, even if they don’t recognize you – infiltrating their conversation with not much focus except polite words of agreement. But again, all your eyes are scanning the venue, trying to locate your surreal penpal.

He finds you before you find him, his figure steering between tables to approach your neighbourhood. You grip the sliver of paper between two fingers, jutting it out slightly to show him the piece of paper – and with faux confidence you initiate your walk towards him.

But his resting hand throws you a quick gesture that you interpret as him telling you to wait.

His slender fingers then point you towards a platform on his left, with a plate of pot-pourri-esque flowers – his casual stance wary to not throw anyone off around him – and it's more than enough of a hint for you. Casually swinging your empty glass, you pretend to walk to the bar, and you place the paper on the petals arranged on the plate.

It’s not like anyone else is paying attention, but in that moment, it feels like the weight of the world’s eyes falls on you.

You walk past without turning back, reaching the bar – as your play-acting self intended to – and get yourself a glass of water to nurse. With calmed nerves, you set on your way back.

When you look up, intending to check whether your message has been received, you see Hoseok walking away from it, the chit still on the plate, but folded very differently. With curiosity drawing you in, you pick up Hoseok's response and saunter towards a comfortable cushioned corner.

" If you would like it to be.♡ We could also discuss the stock market and world affairs if that is up your alley. "

Beyond the joke that would make you grin any other day, the penmade heart between the lines is making your own flutter in delight.

And you realise, there isn't much use of this query you got answered, because it doesn’t affect your original response.

You check the affirmative box – ticking it a couple times for good measure – and you don't forget to include a giant 'N.O.' above the "stock market and world affairs" option he presented. You begin your search for the recipient again, walking back to the same place you found this.

This time he doesn't maintain eye contact for long, but you're sure he saw you put the paper back on the plate, so you walk away once again. In the periphery of your vision, you see him casually strolling towards the drop location, and you empty your heavy lungs to calm your flustered nerves.

Chill out, good God.

Finding your group of friends again, you meld into the cacophony they generate, but not without a piece of your being sitting in that folded piece of paper.

If you're asked, it's been a good hour since the last exchange between you and Hoseok.

In reality, probably ten minutes.

But the reminder on your watch gives you anxiety with no reprieve, your tired feet shifting your weight from one to another. Hyejoon is narrating a story to the interns, a scene from the time you all were younglings in the company. Everyone throws in their own anecdote, and big or small, it’s met with a gaggle of drunken merriment. You too have plenty to add to this melange, but for now, your contribution is just in polite smiles and laughs at the appropriate junctures. For your mind is all on him.

What will he do now?

Will he demand for your underwear in public again? Will he command you to commit filthy sins in some dingy corner, slapping a hand on your mouth to shush your brain dead moaning? Will he drag you out to some other place all together…

It's like your lungs rattle within its cages, and a shudder passes your body at the various possibilities of ending that sentence. Blasphemous horror permeates your chest when you realise there’s not a lot of protest in your brain at all those ideas. With the fog around you growing thicker and thicker, your hands itch to feel the napkin again.

Amidst the overwhelming words being passed around you, you feel someone brush past your back, and as a reflex – like your subconscious was expecting this exchange – the hand resting behind you discreetly opens up to catch hold of the response. Clutching it safely, you act like you’re adjusting your pants when you tuck the piece in your waistband.

When you find a good point to excuse yourself from the crowd, you slide away to a darker corner, slipping the chit out, bracing the sinister aura it is emanating. You’re brimming with excitement, hands desperate to tear it all and go have him right here, right now. No piece of paper you’ve handled before has had this much personality, you reckon.

“You know what I’ve been thinking of? ”

You’re almost scared to read the next lines.

“More than your full pussy? And more than your welted ass? I can’t let go of your pained face that took every strike I gave .”

He’s no bard, but fuck, the words strum all the right chords in you. The exact face he talks about tries to surface, topple over your calm demeanour, and it hurts to say that it’s winning the fight. The words feel so casual, so off-handed, you can imagine him whispering the same in your ear with the same nonchalance. He’d probably pull himself back after saying it, and then be so amused by its effect on you.

After a long bout of dreaming, you curse yourself for your overactive imagination because the image hurts .

“Next time, I want a bigger mess on you darling… gonna release all over your pretty face, your breasts, your thighs. I want to watch you lap it all up without waste, make you show me how hungry I’ve left you.”

Each word punctures your skin like a syringe, pushing into you copious doses of lust – you fear an overdose with the way your head reels re-reading his message. You lick your drying lips instead of drooling over the chit in hand, because the sticky sensation of his seed on your body is something you find yourself longing for more than necessary.

After safely storing the piece of literature he penned in your pocket for later, you slip out another napkin from a nearby table to write your shaky but resolute response.

“Why don’t you just skip the middlemen and cum in my mouth?”

You place the chit under a stray plate, in his vision, and step away – but not without keeping a watchful eye on his movements.

And you wish you did not.

Because unlike the previous times, he stands there, reading your response – and then simply looks at you.

Cocky bastard smirks at your gaping face, matching your gaze with an even more powerful one in return. He scrawls something short and quick on the paper you left, and places it back at its original place. Once he leaves, you don’t waste a second, racing ahead and filling the space he left empty a moment ago.

“Earn it.”

Oh heavens , what ill-fated karma is being returned to you? If it was not a crowded venue, the groan you let out would have been louder, much louder. Right now, the passing waiter who hears your pained voice under your breath probably assumes that your footwear is killing you.

You frantically look around for Hoseok before thinking up a response, but you can’t locate the man. Either he’s not here, or he has seamlessly blended into the hoards of red-and-white CEOs.

“Fuck you!!! I’m ready to soak through my LEATHER pants without a damned touch, have I not earned it already??”

You add a frown at the end of the sentence, because your mask is slipping down (always is, around him), and you place your answer back on the plate – what espionage movie is this – ready to stand guard until he returns. But a sudden hand on your shoulder almost skins you alive in shock.

“He- Woah ! Are you okay?”

You raise both hands at a petrified Yoonsu, and erupt laughing at each other. “Sorry, I was lost. Kinda tired, haha.” Being tired is part of your personality, so the lie flows out pretty smoothly and doesn’t raise any red flags.

“Okay okay, scared me. Oh! You didn’t catch the mulled wine! It was pretty bomb ,” Yoonsu smacks her lips at the thought of the sweet warm beverage.

“Ah yes, I mulled over it ,” Yoonsu threatens to kick your shin at your excuse of a joke, “no no, I got sucked in some other conversation. I’ll see if I can cop a glass now!”

“Do that, it was in high demand. Actually,” Yoonsu looks back towards the exit, “Mirae and I are skipping after we say our byes to the upper peeps. If you have hurt your eyes enough from the red, do you want me to drop you?”

On any other average day, your answer to this offer would be a resounding yes. The thought of being burrito-wrapped in a cosy blanket, digging into that book with your expired Christmas candle lit is beckoning at you with siren voices.

But right now, it’s a hard-hitting no.

“Naah, I’m okay. I wanted to meet some more people before starting next week, so I’ll do that.”

“Girl, it’s a party,” Yoonsu sighs, “I doubt anyone wants anything to do with next week.”

You grin at her. “Yeah, understandably so. Still worth a shot.”

“Okay baby, take care, and text me when you get back home!” She wraps you in a tight, inebriated hug that you return in kind, and walk with her to the exit. You find Yoonsu’s friend, and spend another ten minutes saying your goodbyes. After the parting, you promptly return to the table like a coil attached on either ends.

But the glass you left on the table now stands shifted, and sports a new piece of paper lodged halfway underneath. The original chit is nowhere to be seen.

Also, on the other half of the letter, is a stray piece of ornament – a ring that looks very similar to what Hoseok’s hands had on.

“I don’t need to touch you to make this fun.”

You don’t want to agree, but you have to. With one night with him under your belt, and you can surely say his confidence is not misplaced. His next words though…

It’s not new for him to leave you speechless, but this time, it’s a whole new brain-emptying sentence.

“If you’re really that wet, soak my ring. Let me see, maybe we’ll throw in some consideration…”

You stay stunned for a good minute, eyes ping-ponging between the letter and the apparatus he graciously granted for this experiment. Your ears Then, with shaky hands, you try to write back something before you set about your task – but the ink of your pen doesn’t grace you with words, instead a flow of mistakes and scratches are what you abandon the message with.

With a vexed grunt, you give up, letting your cunt speak as your final response.

You’re being as quiet as you can.

Unfortunately, what you can and can’t do are being wildly redefined at this moment.

Loosely wearing the ring on your thumb and holding it in place with your index finger, you rub the cool metal over your wet pussy lip, trickles of your arousal painting the silver into an icy hue. You push the ring inward, your clit experiencing different faces of the ring in the process. It feels like your tricep is on the verge of cramping, but the brain… The brain is a powerful muscle, overpowering the pleas of your arm and continuing the dance you currently dance.

With an awkward twist of your hand, you shallowly dip your ringed thumb into your hole, slightly curving your back to make it happen. For a brief second, very brief second, the ring makes you forget that it’s your finger, mind allowing you to submerge into the fantasy that Hoseok decided to let go of inhibitions and took you right there.

You are insanely turned on.

Juices have flown onto your hand, their path retracting to the joint of your thumb holding the loop – the dribbles trying to mess up the rest of your hand. You get back to teasing your swollen lips, and your puffy clit, the simple up-down motion making you forget the insanity you’re making yourself a part of. Making you forget that normal people don’t do this.

Making you forget all the unwanted normalcy.

How would it be if he was here? Thinking about Hoseok having you spread, teasing you solely with the touch of his jewellery, looking at you with a vicious smile… telling you how easy you are… You almost lose yourself to the oncoming orgasm.

But it doesn’t happen.

Maybe because even the Hoseok of your imagination is a sadistic dick. What did you expect? You can only draw inspiration from reality.

Your possible orgasm ebbs back into its recedes, leaving you very high and incredibly dry. It feels like you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to take the plunge, but with every jump you try to fall, and the edge only extends, never letting you drop yourself into the abyss. You give up on your ministrations with an unsatisfied grunt, and bring your hand up to examine the ring.

The debauchery this sole ring holds is insane.

You zip yourself back up and try to restore your face to your neutral self, going as far as looking right into the bathroom lights to restore your pupils.

The moment you open the bathroom door, the incoherent songs playing in the arena assault your ears – your flailing senses try to peer through the sea of dichromatic colours, trying to find the one man before the ring dries out. God forbid that happens, and he doesn’t believe you’re stupidly wet.

Well, he could just check for himself.

Your ears pick up a particular laugh amidst a boom of hilarity – and your sense of sound guides you towards the group Hoseok is a part of. As soon as you meet eyes, he excuses himself out of his crowd, and with a laconic strut, comes to stand right in front of you.

The mechanics of your body come to a halt. Even if you two have been speaking all this time, the words in your throat die – no, killed by the tight knot on your vocal box that you just can’t seem to swallow. All you can do is stare, get sucked in by his extremely palpable aura, and hand him the ring with a quiet “ here .”

Neither do your feet move, nor do his. The ring has exchanged hands, and now adorns Hoseok’s slender digit – your eyes are zeroed in on his face, head quite close to empty. So no cell in you could have expected his next move.

Because he just brings his ringed hand to his lips.

And kisses the ring.

No. Sucks on the ring. While directly looking at you, and not saying a damned word.

All the care you held to mask your expression has long been ditched in the closest trash can – you scrunch up your eyebrows and suck a shallow breath in, a choked moan making its way out of your parted lips. His eyes pick up every single feature on your face, a proud glint in his gaze very apparent. He steps into your space and lodges his lips close to your ear, and husks out his first words to you.

“ That’s the look. ”

Dirty bastard. Absolute abomination. Just an all out asshole who is hell bent on making you collapse.

Because after he uttered those three words, he went about his merry way, and you wobbled your way back to some known faces and seated yourself on the first open seat you found. And by channelling all your energy, you pretend to be a functioning member of society who does things other than desire to be raw dogged by your boss’ best friend. And since that time, he seems very happy to remain in his close-knit circle, barely throwing you a glance.

The ring of course, still remains on his finger, and he obsessively fiddles with it – but it doesn’t seem to affect his conversational abilities, talks flowing with no distractions visible.

There’s no two ways about it; you’re hot and bothered. On the outside, you keep your cool just as Hoseok does – but on the inside, your guts are rearranging themselves due to lack of external help.

This is ridiculous.

A surge of courage suddenly decides to swim through your veins as you tear apart one more piece of your napkin, and scribble your number into it in haste.

Armed with it, you slide across towards Hoseok’s table, where he is standing around a large group, with people talking over one another – in the fifth hour of the party, you don’t expect comprehensible conversation. Putting one foot ahead of the other, you stride on till you’re barely an inch away from the man. You throw in a thank you to the Gods for making everyone as delirious as they are, and seamlessly slip your number into Hoseok’s unzipped pocket.

You can feel his frame still against your fingers, but with the many heads obstructing your naughty hands, you are safe from suspicion. You walk away soon enough, jumping companies as usual until you find a solid spot to get seated.

Times like these you wish the skin on your back could detect shifts in the atmosphere behind you. The nerve you had to hand him your number slowly disintegrates into nervousness about getting a response. Anxiously fidgeting with your phone, you engage in a light conversation about movies with the current set of people, lighting up your phone screen every second minute to check for any development.

Ding.

You could have sent your phone flying across to the chocolate fountain beside your table, the notification feeling much louder than usual, even with the commotion around you. With all the composure you can procure, you open your phone, hoping for it to be exactly what you want. What you need. What will hopefully extinguish the fire that has set inside your brain.

unknown number: Get yourself alone. Right. Now.

The trail of skin on your body relives his touches, patterns of heat forming on every place his touch has fallen. Your toes curl inside your heels, the anticipation of the night blinding and deafening any other sensory input. With as much poise you can manage, you relieve yourself from all your company, and move to the washroom – praying to the heavens on your way that every attendee doesn’t have to pee for a long time.

An empty stall. Yahtzee.

After locking yourself in, and triple checking for possible eavesdroppers, you open your phone awaiting the next ding.

But it doesn’t come.

With every passing second, there is only silence, and an empty notification bar greets your agog sight.

“Fucking piece of— UGH !”

You open the number next to your latest message. And you let it ring.

“Made you crack,” is the smug response you get, when Hoseok finally answers his end. The rasp in his voice makes you glitch, the power of telecommunication turning his voice hoarser than it is in person.

“You’re annoying .”

“You didn’t look too annoyed when I had your pussy juices in my mouth.”

God. It happened many, many minutes ago and yet the scene burns vividly in your eyes, like it’s happening in your current timeline. You give out a shallow, warbled breath and continue on, as he seems keen on hearing you out today.

“You look fucking insane today,” you rest your fingertips on your lips to control the quivering, trying to remember his whole fit, “insanely hot. I just can’t help it anymore.”

“You’re one to talk,” Hoseok’s words come out less as speech and more as a coarse grunt, “leather on your ass looks… so good… Makes me wonder.”

Makes you wonder, too. Surely, your innocuous pants aren’t the leather he’s imagining at this moment.

“Remember your safeword?”

“Yes,” and just to be sure, you add, “ Keynote .”

“Good,” his voice is crystal clear, none of the gruff play showing in the notes. “You’ll use it whenever you need, correct? Even if it’s right now?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, I definitely will.”

“ Gooood. ”

The difference in tone between the last use of that word and this one is astonishing. Hoseok’s voice comes out a little pained, like his dick is being relieved from its confines. And what you wouldn’t give to be in its presence right now.

“You have unbelievable self control, I must say,” your blank brain offers.

“ Tsk, ” he chips into his microphone, “you’d think I do… but with you testing me every single waking day in the office? I was close to risking it all.”

You let out a small laugh. “Ever heard of workplace fun , Sir?”

“ Fuck, ” the grunt permeates through your head, poking holes into everything it can touch, “you’re lucky I’m a patient man. Fun would sound very different if left to me.”

If the beating of your heart was any indication, his definition of fun totally suits your agenda.

“What part of ‘call me by my name on site’ do you not get, you cock-craving whore ?”

Maybe it’s also the over-the-fabric touch you’re subjecting your nipples to, maybe it’s also the imagination that you let run wild over the past hours – maybe it’s just him – but hearing the words come from him releases a full-blown moan out of your lips, his brusque manner making you lightheaded. You switch from bare touches to tweaks, your breasts tingling with anticipation and wanting more.

“You and your innocent little eyes, with your ‘Yes Sir’ s and ‘No Sir’ s and ‘Of course Sir’ s , ” Hoseok works his words through his discordant breathing, “the seams of your skirt look very enticing those days – they would last a mere second under my fingers.”

Letting out a ragged chuckle, you steady your phone in one hand, unbuttoning your pants with the other. You sure did have your fun with him, when time was abundant, people were scarce, and twilight had befallen your offices.

“You didn’t just sit there and take it all,” you challenge, “that night in the elevator?”

There’s a low curse on the other side of the call, followed by slow, rhythmic rustling of fabric – Hoseok is definitely jerking himself off right now, and for now, you can do nothing but writhe in your increasingly tightening pants.

“I only respond in kind,” he offers, “and you’re lucky it ended where it did.”

“It was not very kind.” You can feel wetness still gushing, your fingers now swathed in the arousal your body is releasing. “Neither did I feel very lucky when it ended, you should ha—”

Ptui!

You were going somewhere with that sentence.

But right now? When you register the sound of spit, all the trains in brain central have gone under repair, the tracks have fallen off, and chaos has descended on the station. There’s pounds of imaginary sand falling down your throat, sucking it off of all moisture.

With your fingers picking up speed over your clit, you let out a moan that can be described as nothing but unhinged. The sound of him spitting again cuts through your senses, the audio file burnt into your eardrums now, evoking memories of the night of your conference.

“ Ho– Sir… ” the tension you’ve been holding onto all day doesn’t let you speak, pushing all your energy towards your twiddling fingers, “we should t–test the seams—” you pause to gulp a fat blob of accumulating dribble, “the seams of my skirt.”

“If I have to bite it off o’ you, I will ,” Hoseok growls into his mic, and it makes you clench the empty air. Your swollen clit is aching, begging, grovelling for more friction. With every glide of your digits you can hear the squelches of your soused lips, and you’re hoping he does, too. It’s sending a flurry of signals around your nerves, the delirium of the approaching orgasm breaks down any embargo you set on yourself – your throat getting louder, fingers getting faster, feelings getting headier.

“Are you really trying to cum right now? Don’t you fucking know better ?!”

Deadlocked.

That’s how every joint of your body feels, the paralysis induced by his words spreading like a blaze through a dry forest, tearing through your muscles with great ease. With the change in tenor, his words turn less conversational and more commanding. But your immobility doesn’t hide your chagrin; you let him know your displeasure with a long, wanton groan of protest.

“Don’t give me that bullshit.”

And you’re prompt to concede; only with a lower, more breathy whine. His words tone down your frown, lest he hears, and wait in silence, static, as Hoseok contemplates his next move.

“You’re bold today…”

Oh no.

“Good thing, I don’t need to be there to tame you, right?”

Oh yes.

You always wonder if words alone can push you over the edge. His words. Today, the lord Almighty has presented a well-packaged opportunity to test your theory.

“Let me hear you slap yourself.”

If there comes a day when he stops surprising you or leaving you with your jaw hung, that’s the day the world implodes.

He says it so normally, so laid-back, not a hitch in his voice to hint at how ridiculous his ask – no, his demand is. “Thrice. Make sure I hear the snap, or else I’ll make you go again.”

Pause.

“Or… we could just stop, right here .”

At some point you need to stop asking yourself; but how are you accepting all of this without a word of revolt? Any protest you could have had has long died, and fuck , every single utterance from him springs your muscles to work. The state of arousal your body is in makes air too heavy on your lungs. You murmur a small “Yes Sir,” and get to work.

Smack!

Wittingly or unwittingly, you didn’t even attempt to go light on yourself with the first one. The sound shocks you before the sting, but you ardently hold the phone close – hoping Hoseok feels the burn he landed on your cheek. Your zeal to please does not subside for a second, as you pause to whisper, “Is it okay, Sir?”

“My bitch in heat…” is all that Hoseok hisses, and rightfully so.

Smack!

You land the second slap over the previous one, the overlap doubling the prickles that spread over the area. Immediately, you rub the spot your fingers landed on, sucking in a sharp breath through your clenched teeth.

In the intermittent time, you can only hear the lulls of Hoseok’s breaths. Slow, deep ones. The sound has the potential to calm your nerves, but right now, it is only revving you on. Having his spellbound attention, at his own party – it feels like a privilege, even if he is the one who initiated this.

With a sinister thought in mind, you move your hand downwards – a quiet slide over your body, pushing your pants down to give you some space; needed space for what you’re going to do. Hoseok has been patiently waiting, and you move your phone to the preparatory site.

The last slap whips through the air, landing smack dab on your open and waiting clit. The groan that emanates from the depths of your throat is very, very different from the first two; a depraved, drawn out sound that Hoseok undoubtedly recognizes.

Holding your phone back up, you try to open your voice up. “O-okay, Sir?”

“Out of my reach,” Hoseok grunts into the phone, breath tight and words tighter, “you really soar high, don’t you?” His tight voice feels like it’s gripping at your own throat, and you find it hard to even move when he spits his next command. “Harder.”

“S– Huh?”

“I said harder . Like you mean it .”

You very much meant it the last time, but now – your fingers get a new lease at life from the power of his words. The next one hits hard like he demanded, your pussy lips feeling the tingling numbness after. You clench inward, body standing straight on your tip-toes, and you stagger back onto the wall.

Hoseok sounds distressed, like his lungs are rendered incapable of pulling another breath, like he is fighting the bones in his body and controlling himself from tearing through whatever boundaries divide you two. The rhythmic thumping on his end quickens.

After adjusting your stance, you put forth your meek question, “Can I–Can I go on, please ?”

“ Hmmmn ,” he gives an appreciative grunt, “go on baby, let’s see how you do by yourself. Try to feel as good as I made you.”

“ Fucking impossible ,” but you don’t waste another second, fingers parting your lips and gliding over your wet crevice – sparks crackle everywhere on your body, and you draw furious figures over your nub. “You do it yourself.”

“One day,” with a deep sigh, he starts, “ one day. I’m going to turn my office into my playroom…”

You swallow a bubble of lascivious greed.

“... and you, my plaything.”

Does he have to be this incorrigibly hot? With his play on words interjecting your imaginary view of him jerking off to you, your fingers twist faster in the confines of the terrible posture you’ve assumed.

“As if we can be quiet there.”

“Don’t worry,” there’s a dull clunking sound on Hoseok’s end, “makeshift gags are my speciality.” Hoseok’s movements get sharper and faster, his jangling zippers giving you more information for your imagination – more than necessary. “You just worry about how you’re going to sit on your ass after.”

“Just my ass?”

Hoseok lets out a tuft of breath at your cheeky words. “You want more worries?”

You press two fingers on your clit, feeling it throb under the pressure, holding your orgasm at bay to enjoy this banter you never got to engage in. “If they were worries, I wouldn’t be asking, would I?”

“ Fuck , you better remember your words baby,” he beams, only getting a flurried whisper of yes ’s from you. Your figure eight’s barely resemble eights anymore, drawing a collection of squiggly lines on your bud that meld according to the high that is approaching you.

“Remember them when I dig my fist into your hair, pull you around like my puppet,” Hoseok’s relentless voice sends shivers through your aroused skin.

“Yes, yes, I would lo—”

“And when I whip your tits and spit on your heated, bruised skin.”

“Oh God, S-Sir, I w-want it so bad,” a sob almost tears through you.

“Fucking feisty…” his hands are still working his dick (how does he have this self control? You’re about to break down like loosely stacked lego bricks), “I can’t wait to bind your knees together and fuck you like you deserve,” his sentence is interrupted by a harsh curse, “ sh–fuck, your already tight hole straining with no space.”

Out of all the things that you thought could make you cry, the desperation for an orgasm was never on the list. But when you feel a droplet slide down your cheek from the corners of your eyes, you confront the unfortunate reality – that list needs some serious rearranging.

“I want–I wa— Good God, please,” your broken utterance is hopefully expressing how much you want this.

“Would you like that?” Hoseok's jeer flushes you with a new wave of heat, your ankles ready to give up and plop you on the ground. “Would you like my tongue working your nipples, as you writhe under my grip?” His rasps grate on your skin as you let out an unhinged plea that barely resembles a language, his abrasive tone licking at your wounds.

Bottom line, you’re ready to burst.

And when he says “Are you ready to cum for me?”, you’re sure your shriek of assent can be heard wherever he’s holed up.

“Cum.”

Just like that night, he commands you across the walls.

And your brain is tuned for nothing but compliance.

At the burst of the dam, your body feels faint, like a feather moving to the dances of the wind. Like a burden toppling off your back, letting you stand straight for the first time in years. Like the dissonance in your bones has suddenly cleared, the harmony in your body playing mellifluous melodies for your ears to enjoy. In the chambers of your mind, there are distant echoes of Hoseok’s raspy grunts, each sound only propelling you further into the air.

The workout however, both physical and mental, catches up with you. In the shift of a second, your body goes from feeling weightless to having leaden flesh and bones. Your skin now awakens to the light sheet of sweat that formed over you through this ordeal. You slide down the wall that supported you for this long, and let out a long-drawn sigh.

You feel fucking terrific.

At the moment there’s a long pause between you two. You can’t say it's uncomfortable, but it makes you very aware of yourself. The lingering breathing between you two continues for a while, until you feel your muscles awake enough for operation.

You’re about to break this long standing silence, but Hoseok beats you to it.

“ Fuck! ”

After the peace and quiet, this almost makes you jump out of your skin.

“What happened?!”

Hoseok only clicks his tongue in return, tufts of breaths telling you he’s holding back a snort. “You happened.”

A funny smile creeps up on you, a mix of bewilderment and amusement. “I’m sorry?”

“Let’s just say,” Hoseok pauses in a moment of distraction, then continues, “these pants aren’t exactly stain proof.”

You can envision the scene clearly now, breaking into a fit of giggles – one that Hoseok joins as he vigorously wipes at the fabric.

“So,” comes from Hoseok, and you realise you’ve been seated in the same splayed position for quite some time, “wasn’t this a lot more fun?”

“You really didn’t have to convince me,” you giggle back, as you pick your pieces off the floor, “I was ready to me impolite and leave the mome—”

Beep .

Your home screen looks back at you, the phone app hiding amidst a bunch of icons with no active call in sight. You click on it – the thirty-two minute call just abruptly ended with no sound reasoning. Weren’t you talking just fine?

Oh no . What if someone walked into his hiding spot? Oof, that’s embarrassing.

Speaking of embarrassing…

In the past thirty two minutes, you must have spent a whole two minutes paying attention to your surroundings. If people came in, they would have left with a very different disposition. All your talking, whining, begging – you had to have been loud. A small shudder passes your spine at that thought.

The hue of your red outfit matches your mood – embarrassed and scandalised – but by the grace of the heavens, there’s no one to accost you with wary glances. After giving your soiled hands a good scrubbing down, you fix your appearance – tucking the many stray strands of hair into a moderately clean look – and you leave the washroom.

A gargantuan hope is that no one notices your extended absence, or there aren’t a lot of stories you can make about spending an endless hour in the washroom. Periods? Phone calls? Explosive diarrhoea?

As you’re standing outside ruminating, you move to fish out your phone from your pocket – but the corner of your vision catches Hoseok walking towards you.

The moment you meet his eyes his steps quicken, determinedly in your direction. You start approaching him too, with no plan in mind. The intention was to hold a respectful distance between you two – the area is secluded, but people are still walking about.

The issue with that intention is, neither of you truly intend on it. The respectful distance is soon cut down by many, many metres. The ruler between your feet would show a reading of bare inches.

“Is this fine?”

His soft-spoken concern. His perturbed eyes. His fragile touch on your arm, not wanting to hold you unless you give the okay.

It shatters you that there is so much respect in the body of this disrespectful man.

“Sorry, my battery died,” he continues, when you don’t respond, “I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that. Are you okay?

“Yes,” you affirm, and lean into his arm, “I’m okay. Are you?”

“I am. Better than okay.” His smile is so soft, so genuine – not like the loud ones in public, not like the snarky ones under the sheets – just radiating a gentle, warm glow.

For a few seconds, you are just standing there. In the middle of the corridor. Smiling at each other, speaking in eyes. Just addressing the rising realization that fuck , you really did this.

And goddamn, right now, even the few inches separating you are painful.

“Can I–” you start.

“Yes.”

He did not stop to think for a moment. So why should you?

Without delay, you smush yourself against his awaiting lips. His mouth feels so gentle, just like the night at the hotel where you wrote your doom. There’s never a tear, never a shred, never a smidge of power that he exudes when you’re playing.

In the throes of your kiss, you have no perception of your limbs, and you find yourself sandwiched between a wall and your kisser. Hoseok’s arm rests on the wall, as he deepens his reach within your mouth, tongue firing up your inner walls. It feels exquisite, sending you into a labyrinth where every turn gives you more delirium. You bring your hands up to his cheeks, and trace small, light circles with your thumb – and you feel Hoseok shift imperceptibly into your hand.

You drink and drink, the external party long lost in its own universe, and you in your own. You shift from one side to another, flitting your eyes open to take a peek at him, trying to look through the fog of dilation. But his eyes are glued shut, every nerve pouring his heart into this kiss. And so do you.

His hand slips around the back of your neck as if to hold you, as if you’d ever go anywhere. In this instant, there’s no other place you’d rather be. You purr into his lips and return in kind, threading one of your hands through his hair, pulling him closer into your body. As your breast presses further into his chest with every breath, you run your tongue over his own muscle, before letting him pull away for a nanosecond.

“ Mm-hmmn , fuck .”

The microscopic break is enough for him; he dives back into you, noses jammed against each other. The incendiary quality of this kiss is very far off from the kiss you shared in bed. There is so much want, so much hunger being exchanged – not a nerve in you two experiences the satiation that your previous bout of togetherness possessed.

The eternity you spent in the kiss feels like two seconds when you finally part. Even then, you refuse to let him loose from your grasp, and he opts to join foreheads with you, intently looking into your eyes, getting the oxygen levels in your systems back in order.

“We have a,” Hoseok nudges your nose with his own, hand wrapping around your waist as he chooses his words, “a penchant for a wall dividing us.”

Your eyes widen before scrunching up at his words; you really do. Eye contact is hard to maintain when you’re casually talking about your eavesdropping days, so you move to look to the side. But Hoseok halts your avoidance, gently redirecting your chin to bring your gaze back to its place.

“I always miss out, don’t I,” he murmurs, before lodging himself in your neckline, his lips leaving a blaze on his path. The barely-there kisses on your neck automatically pull your brows in, and you bite your own lip to quieten that possible moan. The question of what he’s missing out on stays afloat somewhere in the confines of your mushy mind.

But before you can pose the question with relative stability, he brings his lips up to your ear, delivering the last blow of your night.

“Next time, I won’t.”

“Hoseok, if you keep hosting parties for every milestone we hit, you best beeliiieeevvveeee I’m slaving for the capitalism I despise!!”

At the moment, this exit is a crowd of rambunctious employees, laughing at the very drunk and very loud Hyejoon’s subservience to their overlords.

Hoseok is looking at Hyejoon with unbridled exuberance, patting them on the back and chirping, “More reason to have these frequently! But I hope this doesn’t send you out of order tomorrow!”

“Look at meee ,” Hyejoon sings, swaying from one side to another like a dancing flamingo, “I’m steady like a bu uuulll !”

“A Spanish Fighting Bull, yes, that’s the comparison” Yoongi quietly adds, and the place breaks down into another gaggle of laughter at the quip. Hyejoon giggles along merrily in acceptance with the bestowed title.

After many more minutes of titters and goodbyes, you start walking towards the swathes of exiting attendees, until you finally cross Hoseok.

“Get home safe, everyone!” he addresses the whole group, but his focus is on you.

You give him a cheeky smile and lean in a bit closer.

“Yes, Sir .”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!

339 notes · View notes

vminity21 · 1 year

Text

Goodbye to Hello | jjk

Pairing: badboy!jeongguk x female!reader

Word Count: 25,102

Genre: fluff, lots of smut oops, mega-angst, strangers to lovers!au, fuckboy/fuckgirl!au

Warning(s): profanity, infidelity, mega-angst (im sorry), mention of alcohol, smoking, smut, unprotected sex, oral (m + f receiving), slight m!dom, nipple play, hand job, dirty talk, ice play, ass grabbing, mention of a sex toy, squirting, hobi is a bad boy in this too, multiple orgasms, smutty kissing, reader may or may not have accidentally become a fuckgirl in this story sorry not sorry; Rated: 18+

Credit to: @yoonoclock for making such an incredible cover for this story that has taken me two long years to write. It’s finally where I need it to be and thank you so much Monnie for using your talent to create a banner that truly embodies the story.

Taglist: thank you so much for your patience with me! @ggukkieland @thisartemisnevermisses @moonchild1 @familiarlikemymirror3 @gukniverse

Summary: After a devastating break up, you immediately move in with your sister, leaving behind the country life to relearn the ups and downs of the city. Adopting a cat and gaining a new job at a retail store part time, life seems to gradually bring happiness and healing, but you did not expect for it to become even more interesting when you stumble upon the enticing yet alluring tattoo artist, Jeon Jeongguk. Will this be an adventure of a lifetime? Or will hello always lead to goodbye?

Golden specks twinkle sporadically like fairy dust creating a shimmering tint to the air that collects the attention of any individual trailing the pavement. Pollen. The groovy excitement of a stuffy nose and mildly itchy eyes sounds stellar compared to how you could be feeling. Sniffling roughly, you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily to relieve what little of the itch that you can and trotting up the steps to your realm of refuge, you can hardly stand the excitement of bundling into the arms of your boyfriend, Jung Hoseok, and relaying how lovely it is to wipe your nose every five minutes. Maybe even ask if you can borrow the sleeve of his sweatshirt as a tissue. Pause. Maybe not.

Entering the rental home, you hadn’t noticed how eerily quiet it seemed, not right away; especially when you are so used to hearing the raging shots of a video game mingled with the yelling profanity between Hoseok and his best friend Kim Namjoon who bicker over headsets about wins that neither of them were really close to. But, let the males believe, they indeed, almost triumphed. Settling your handbag onto the dining table, you tilt your head in confusion. Is Hobi sick today? Where is he?

The floors creak beneath your tennis shoes while you observe the kitchen. That’s funny. The dishes are cleaned and put away, and not one stray of lint is seen upon the countertop- Hoseok has always been clean as well as you, but he never went over the top unless he had company over, and by company you mean his mother. Thoughts drift to the possibility of him wanting to surprise you for whatever the case may be, and your heart flutters at the mere inkling while a smirk graces your lips. How thoughtful, you feel gushy at his consideration of you, and your steps follow the direction of your bedroom.

It is then that your life spirals in a cluster of emotions that you will never forget; sparks dancing in your vision while your chest tightens intensely in response to the sounds you hear echoing beyond the door. No. You want to scream, but your throat constricts, not producing any verbalization no matter how much your brain signals. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real. The moans persist. The mystery female is eagerly gasping his name over and over while your heart shudders at the pain severing every vein within your frame. A tear falls panging the floor- your body is so tense, you shiver through the anxiety, and you know deep down that confronting him will hurt even worse than if you were to take the high road and walk away.

Wiping the dampness from your eyes, you spin to compile your things as in your handbag that contains your wallet, car key, and cellphone, and you march outside, slamming the front door behind you to shed some of the anger boiling in your system; you could care less if he heard your grand exit or not for you blocked his number before you settled into your car. You may be able to run from him, but you cannot run from the excruciating pain erupting beneath your chest nor the cycle of questions that refuse to stop spinning because why? After three years together, why would he betray you like this?

The front door flings open. Hoseok runs onto the porch in pure panic, hair disheveled, only in boxers, mouth gaping open as his widened eyes search until they lock with yours. But it’s too late. You are already safe within your car. Even when you notice the slim figure of a woman in one of his t-shirts, you do not move your gaze. You let the stare down with your boyfriend linger enough to rest your case. The second he starts rushing down the porch steps in a way to catch up to you for whatever meaningless apologies- meaningless explanations that will pour from his mouth- is when you reverse onto the road.

Behind the steering wheel with no destination in mind, you come up with the only solution you find reasonable, and you make your way to the city with the intention of starting over, even if it means it destroys you.

A queue of ants scurry along the lining of the windowsill where the sun tinges the glass against your knuckles. Shrivel sounds of the granola bar wrapper fills the silence of the kitchen while you gulp the final bite of your snack. Sometimes when your hands feel cold, you leave it to the sun to indulge your skin with warmth before trekking to your room, but instead, the growling of your stomach and the distraction of observing the insects seems to help with the boredom. Dread happens to consume the depths of your chest at the subtle reminder of returning to work in the morning; Sundays always bring the feeling of woe because it is the end of relaxation before continuing the week of being overwhelmed. But you figure adulting is worth it in some ways, and as everyone else, you must work to provide and live.

The chirp of your cat, Kenai, alerts your attention, him pouncing onto the counter to rub his head along your free wrist. “If you’re hungry, just say so,” you coo sarcastically, knowing he is due for his dinner in a few minutes. He will be a year old soon, his yellow eyes squinting as he rubs his head against your palm before arching his back once you run your hand to the end of his tail. Your eyes flit back to the ants darting in search of whatever they need, and inwardly, you are uncertain how your sister, Monnie would feel about the bugs, but you always found them fascinating.

Jumping off the counter, Kenai excitingly follows suit, twirling against your legs as you saunter to the pantry to retrieve his food. You have officially lived with your sister for a year now, and adopting Kenai was one of the best decisions you have ever made besides moving to the city. It is as if you disappeared from the prior life that you once lived and you like it just that way. Kenai temporarily ditches you for his food, and you stroll off to the living room where the scenery of a huge, flat screen television shows your reflection on the empty screen.

Monnie happens to be a successful artist who fell in love with another known artist by the name of Min Yoongi. Together they have won the world with their talent, and you could not have asked for a better couple to be in your life. If there is a true definition of love, it is how Yoongi gazes at your sister- because she is the only woman in the world, he will do anything and everything for. Jokingly, you always tell the pair that you are just going to stick with your cat, but the sadness that etches within Monnie’s eyes reveals that she hopes you will find a good man of your own. She is aware of why you abruptly returned to the place you were birthed, and she is aware that you refuse to speak of it even if it is pent up to the brim of imploding.

When you met your ex, it was in a park of all places. Not high school, not college, not through a family member or a friend: a park. It was a romantic way to begin even though you will never admit it now, but it started so naturally. So simple. You were reading a book while he was creating one. The way you were poised apparently sparked an idea for a story he openly confessed later on in the courtship. He described the scenery around you and how enwrapped in the book you were as something meant to be written for others to discover. How he could imagine a story just from the vision you had no idea you were forming for him.

You fell for him fast. Hard. He was your first everything aside from kissing and as time went by, you agreed to move in with him. You never expected what was going to happen in the future. You never anticipated such excruciating pain from the betrayal, nor did you notice any signs leading up to it. He’s tried contacting you from other phone numbers, but after four months apart, he seemed to have given up. But, because the pain is still so raw, you can’t bear to face him. You will crumple like a piece of paper in his presence if you were to ever see him again. For now, you do all you can to just avoid the situation as much as possible. Besides, he has her now. Whoever she may be.

Alas, what does it matter? It is not like he is able to reach out to you anyways for he is blocked on every and any social media site you can think of, and thankfully your name was not on the lease nor was your name hooked to anything involving your ex, so it will be fine. Or so you tell yourself repeatedly until you lose track of the thought. But that uneasy feeling creeps back up and instead of reaching for the remote, you decide maybe a walk around the city will be better. Monnie isn’t due home until later and you are assuming Yoongi will be tagging along, so why not pass the time by exploring?

Loneliness seeps in the gallows of your heart while you rush through the app for a driver. There is not a specific destination you prefer over another, so you pick a store at random around fifteen minutes away. With the money your sister has, she doesn’t expect you to pay for anything, all she cares about is your happiness though you refuse to not work; for now, you have a part time retail job whilst figuring out a career path that will become your future in the long term.

One thing you will say, is you have not missed driving in the city, hence the reasoning of you summoning a chauffeur. Traffic isn’t your favorite as commonly pronounced by anybody, and with how overwhelming your brain can feel, you prefer to be able to drift into the zone out rather than pay attention. Gripping the strap of your bag, you eagerly watch the road while cars pass by letting the heat of the breeze sweep through your hair. When the signal of your phone alerts you that your driver is close by, you aim your focus in the direction of a slowing vehicle, stunned by the countenance of a sharp jawline and rainbow colors dyed into bleach blonde strands.

The beauty you are about to behold is way out of your comfort zone, nor have you felt this attracted to an individual since your heart was obliterated a year ago. “Hi-hi,” you stutter once you enter the passenger side, the driver nods once with a smirk in tow, his button up snug to his frame, an earring dangling from his right ear.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduces, “Location still the bookstore in the city?”

“Yes please,” you are shocked you sound audible, but you return a timid smile while shoving some loose hair behind your reddening ear. The clean scent of lemon breaches past your nostrils while you try to maintain your composure, “I’m y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” soft music plays in the background, yet the only sense you tune into is the pounding in your temples. Pull yourself together, he is just a guy who drives a car, who will safely take you to the bookstore, no biggie, you will survive, there are more important things to- “So, as a fellow book lover, I must ask, what is your favorite story?”

Oof. Conversation to minimize the awkward way your shoulders tense at the mere thought of looking over at him, you rummage through the possible answers, struggling to gather your words in a timely manner. “Very hard question,” you gulp, “It’s like asking to choose your favorite song or movie. Too many stories to explore,”

“And never a time you will run out of adventure,”

Eyebrows shoot up in response, “Right,” you smile, “Sounds like you love a good adventure,”

“I will neither confirm nor deny,” a soft chuckle escapes past his plump lips while he keeps his gaze ahead on the traffic. “Have you resided here long?” Shifting nervously in your seat, you watch the buildings of the city closely in a way to avoid Jimin’s gaze without obviously melting.

“Only a year, made a split decision to move in with my sister. You?”

Jimin flits his stare for only a moment, “For a long while. My best friend and I are opening a bar not far from the bookstore, you should come sometime. Invite anyone and everyone you want.”

“I love me a good drink,” bravery enters your frame while you briefly scan the smooth skin of Jimin’s face. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Taehyung has a lot of success in his business, and this will be his fourth opening so celebration is a must. He has a lot of sponsors and connections, the main being Kim Seokjin,”

Gasping, you immediately turn to him, “You mean the actor Kim Seokjin? You’re kidding!”

Laughing, Jimin’s smile stretches to show pearly white teeth, “I will allow you to punch me if I am,”

Deep down you try to suppress the memory of your ex-boyfriend who had written a script in preparation to be read for a potential movie, one that would, in hopes, hire Kim Seokjin as the lead. Hoseok is talented in the writing department and had dreams of becoming a successful author, but you gladly dismiss the memory when Jimin pulls to park for you to exit.

“Here,” swiftly he pulls out a business card handing it to you with a friendly grin, “The opening is in a few weeks, will I see you there?”

“One hundred percent,” clutching the card in your hand, you wave before shutting the door, turning to face the bookstore to hide the fact you would prefer to stare at Jimin whose face will haunt you for the time being. For fucks sake, I need to get laid. As you desperately insert the card into your wallet, you pause. Nay! Male specimens suck, they all suck, my mother said the purpose of a male is to produce a child that I clearly am not ready to birth from the womb that is my pretty pink uterus. That bleeds. Monthly. Because I am not housing a fetus I- Ew. Maybe you’d rather be an aunt. Or have an ovariohysterectomy. Maybe your uterus would like to be taken out of the equation in general.

And now I need a coffee…. Shit.

Since when have you been this intimidated by a good-looking man? And when have you found any of your sporadic conscious entertaining? Therefore, you passionately believe in keeping your mouth shut when you’re on a tangent because humiliation is not in your vocabulary. Or… Is it? Also, you hate admitting how long it has been since you have even been kissed, much less caressed lovingly until you fell asleep. Is moving on from heartbreak too much to ask for? The heat of Hoseok’s kisses trailing your neck were enough to make you come undone, but his betrayal outweighs the good times- good times that evidently weren’t enough for him. Huffing in congruent with the squeezing of your shutting eyes, you step along the semi-crowded sidewalk where people mind their business enough to leave you alone. Your hand must have pressed against your stomach for a bit because you can still feel the presence of the touch before you subconsciously removed your palm.

The bookstore is a popular joint in your opinion. It stands four stories high with the fourth floor having a garden center where people can read and smell the perfumes of flowers in peace. Unfortunately, you are not in the best mood for getting lost in the lines of a tale considering you were too busy thinking about your erm, lady possessions, so you tread what you hope will be enough distraction until you feel satisfied enough to go home. It’s funny the curveballs life will throw at you especially when twists and turns decide to expose themselves in the unexpected ways everyone wishes will not happen unless it gleams nothing but happiness. Sadly, for some, the hits of negativity must spark lessons before one reaches the promise land, so when you make a turn into the alley way leading to a popular coffee shop, you do not anticipate the way your life is going to change. Nor do you fathom the string of events that are about to follow when you stumble upon a leathered frame, sucking in a puff of a cigarette while he flicks at his eyebrow shimmering with a piercing, leaning against the wall where he swallows roughly. Undercut freshly done, his nostrils release the smoke in what seems to be slow motion while you halt in place.

Holy shit.

Tattoos ornament the entirety of his knuckles and wrist alluding to the beginning of a sleeve that’s covered by the thick material of his jacket. For all you know, he may not be one to approach, yet the tug of your heart is so strong, you try with all your might to make the executive decision to return to the bookstore, but alas, it is too late. Brown irises glance to your frozen figure right when he takes another drag of the cigarette, lifting an eyebrow in evident interest while your jaw drops unintentionally. “I’m-I’m sorry,” you bow in tiny, “I didn’t see you there.” Cringing, you know damn well that you saw him, and he sees right through your little white lie.

“You’re fine,” he replies, studying your expression, tossing the cigarette to the ground to muffle it, “Not the best place for me to smoke, but it’s the least populated area,”

At a loss for words, you nod in response, the guy barely pushing off the wall to stand straighter, the smell of the cigarette lingering. “Well, I guess I’ll be going.” You say under your breath, walking with a mission toward the coffee shop to catch your breath. How in the world can somebody be that attractive? First Jimin, now this guy? Why hadn’t you moved to the city earlier? Uterus, it is not time to ovulate! It is not the time! The ding of the bell alerts your arrival to the staff, and you contemplate your order deciding to try a new flavor of coffee. Surprisingly, it is not nearly as busy as it typically is, so once you retrieve your order and pay, you search for a secluded table to descend into for some form of solitude. And, to recover from the interaction with the guy from the alley. You have never smoked a day in your life, but he made it seem so tempting, which in your case is nowhere near normal, so you shake the strange attraction from your mind as best as you can.

Sipping the hot liquid frequently, your sister has always teased that you delight in drinking coffee in the evenings, but it is your comfort go to especially when you need something to do, or to feel relaxed. The bell of the door echoes prompting the immediate noticing of whoever the customer is that entered. Swallowing abruptly, your heart leaps at the sight of the guy you literally saw fifteen minutes ago in the alley. A creeping blush spreads along your chest soon touching your cheeks to the point you wish you could hide. In a way, you attempt, sinking a smidge in your seat wondering if that will prevent him from noticing your presence.

Nice try.

Between the minimal number of customers and the efficiency of the employees, a tattooed hand linked to a coffee cup slides into the seat across from you, tilting his head curiously when you toss your sight to bask in the glory of his profound attraction. You are in so much trouble. “Hi, again,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest to hide the quivering of your cold fingers, and to tame the flipping of your ovaries. “Did I scare you enough to make you confront me?”

Smirking a breathy laugh, he takes a swig of his coffee, “I’m not scared of anything.”

“If not fear, what brings you to my table?”

Wetting his bottom lip, you are proud of your feigned courage, but you genuinely are shocked by his sudden presence. Did you leave an inadvertent impression? Quirking an eyebrow, a small smile remains on his lips, “A confession.”

“If it’s sweet talk, I’ll pass.”

Leaning forward to perch his elbows on the table, he folds his hands showing the tattoos you inwardly reveled in earlier, his head poises to the side while he presses his knuckles to his chin casually. “Bold of you to assume I was here to compliment you.”

“Ouch.” You deadpan. “But then again, my mother’s compliments are all that matter to me. Anything you say is irrelevant.”

“Oh,” gradually laying his intertwined fingers onto the table, he challenges with a stare that can make any human being melt into the wooden floor. Fuck. “Then I guess telling you that your shirt is inside out isn’t going to change anything.”

Gasping, your palms fly to your chest where you instantaneously look to see the lines of your t-shirt that clearly expose the fact that you indeed left the house with your shirt on wrong. It is not as embarrassing as one may think, but you were unaware of the food stain dazzling along the side of your boob. Which in this case, makes you blush harder knowing that his eyes may be lingering in an area where no man is welcome currently. But why do you lowkey indulge in the idea of him taking a moment to sweep you up and down? Get a fucking grip, y/n.

“Well,” you sporadically move to position yourself in the seat where the point out will no longer be as obvious, “I appreciate how observant you are, but at least it’s not the worst thing to discover. In public.”

Chuckling under his breath, he shrugs, “I agree. Just figured I’d inform you, otherwise, my intentions are pure.”

Scoffing, you cross your arms again, remaining comfortable in your chair, “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“If I wanted anything, I would have asked already.” He murmurs, “And I always get what I want.”

“Fearless and greedy,” you are vastly grateful that the uterus doesn’t make noises when it’s craving to house an infant, especially with a man as ballsy and gorgeous as the one before you. And why the hell are you even thinking of children at a time like this? Any other male specimen would have made this conversation creepy, but this guy is so alluring that it doesn’t seem to bother you in the least. “What’s your name, Cigs?”

He chokes mid-sip, “That’s a new one.”

“What’s the norm?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Not if it’s sexual.”

“Oooo, then I’ll never tell.”

“Pure, my ass.”

“I never said I was pure, milady, I said my intentions with you were pure.”

Eyeing him questionably, you stifle a jeer, “Not sure if that’s an insult, but I’ll take it.”

Smiling enough to where a glimpse of his teeth is seen, he reaches a hand forward, “I’m Jeongguk.”

“I’m y/n.” Kindly, you take his hand returning the greeting with a grin.

“And I find you extremely striking. I mean that with all sincerity.” Gently, he presses a warm kiss to the back of your knuckles before releasing your clammy hand. “Now go fix your shirt before my OCD destroys me.”

Groaning, your mind wants to focus on the sensation from his lips on your skin, but instead, in mild humiliation, you shake your head kiddingly while you mosey to the restroom. Remembering to bring your purse, you hadn’t realized you left your phone behind on the table next to your drink. Returning, you’re shocked to see that he’s left; your phone and coffee appear untouched, yet you feel the sting of disappointment for you enjoyed the bickering even though some may find it strange. It has been a while since you have been in proximity with a man of such nature, especially one whose features leave an imprint on every crevice of your brain.

The ride home holds nothing but thoughts of the lad who mysteriously approached you at your favorite coffee spot, mostly questions of wonderment of who he is. Jeongguk, sure, but what is his story? Shoving the thought past your mind, you enter your room once you arrive home and feed your cat, slipping into your pajamas and collapsing onto your bed releasing a long sigh. Slamming your palms to your face, the keen chirp of Kenai sounds as he pounces onto the bed, rubbing his head against your cheek until you split your fingers to peer at your cat lovingly. “You have already eaten, you brute. Let me simmer in sadness please.”

Eventually you give in, petting him before you find your eyelids heavily craving slumber. It is the next day when you awaken to sunshine pouring through the blinds casting dancing shadows upon your bedspread. Kenai’s fur tickles your cheek where he has cuddled cozily to you, which is the usual with your cat, and gazing fondly at your furry friend, you blindly pat your desk to grasp your phone to sneak a Snapchat. “Don’t you move, KiKi.” Angling the phone, you take a photo, posting to your story to show off how precious your animal is. You were so lucky when you found your cat. After the devastating blow to the chest a year prior, the first thing you did was visit a shelter not far from Monnie’s house in search of the first animal to win your heart.

In all honesty, they all did, but one look at the small fluff puff, pressing his paws against the glass, meowing for you to notice him was all it took. He purred the moment your hands wrapped around his small body, his cold nose sniffing along your face that was stained with tears. He was the little superhero besides your sister that you needed to find some form of healing. Kenai hasn’t left your side, and he refuses to. You never knew a cat could love you so much, even on the nights you wake up with him sprawled across your trachea. His love may be smothering, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kissing the side of his head, his sleepy eyes remain out the window where birds zip past to distract him. Throwing the covers off you, the number one thing you do is brush your teeth, changing into your work clothes, and tying your hair up out of your vision. Kenai eventually follows you with all the hopes of getting his breakfast which you prepare, and before shuffling into your tennis shoes, you check your phone where your eyes enlarge to the rising beat of your heart.

Jeongguk is typing….

“What the hell?” You mouth. The guy from yesterday added you on Snapchat? How? The only thing you can think is your phone happened to be unlocked unless he was able to open the picture app to scan his Snapchat code. Either way, you are not wanting to admit how pleasantly surprised you are, and when the familiar tone of the Snapchat alerts his official message, you hold yourself back from replying to him too quickly.

It's an exuberantly strange feeling, how giddy one can become all because of a mere message of someone where their interest lies. And the nervous tingles at the bottom of your stomach ignite as you ponder every and any scenario involving the mysterious lad. You have yet to reply, nor do you have any clue what to expect, but you deeply hold nothing but genuine curiosity of how this may play out. Will he be interested in you? Are you ready for someone to be interested in you? That may be the more accurate question. Hoseok hurt you beyond words, but will Jeongguk do the same if you do end up finding him enchanting? What if he doesn’t think you are enough? With all the women in the world, it seems that you can’t hold a guy down enough to seem worth it. Stop it. Wincing, you grit your teeth knowing the negativity needs to end now. Of course, you are enough. You have always been enough, and nobody should make you doubt otherwise. “Anyone who doesn’t see the good in you is at a loss. You are literally the epitome of kindness,” Monnie’s words repeat in your head, uplifting you enough to focus your mind on other matters. Like, preparing your brain cells for the workday ahead.

Finicking with your uniformed red vest, you greet a fellow coworker with a smile, “Good morning, LenLen! Is it five o’clock yet?”

Giggling, LenLen’s face lights up at your question as she finishes folding a pair of jeans to set upon a display. “It is somewhere.”

“Good point,” walking the isles of the store to tidy up the shelves, you can’t help but wonder if it has been long enough since Jeongguk messaged you. Giving it another ten minutes to ensure the coast is clear of customers, you sneak into the breakroom, unlocking your phone to see what he said. You are appalled at yourself for being so consumed in the fact that a guy you just met has taken time out of his day to reach out to you and you wish you could maintain your cool.

‘Dude, your cat looks just like my hellion, Flounder.’

Smiling at what you have read, you click to save the message, so you don’t forget what is being talked about once you exit the snapchat, and you are nearly losing your mind when Jeongguk’s Bitmoji appears a few seconds after you start typing. Uncertain of what else to say, you respond with, ‘Prove it.’ GAH! You grimace, that’s what you have to say? Prove it? Beating yourself up, you forget to breathe the moment the red icon shows that Jeongguk has sent a picture of what you are assuming is his cat. Opening it with the click of your thumb, you are amazed how identical Flounder and Kenai are even considering they could be potential siblings, what a small world right? ‘First off, LOVE the name’, you reply, also realizing you are blushing because also within the picture, a side profile of Jeongguk shows that he is smiling.

Knowing you will have to return to the floor soon, you decide to let Jeongguk send at least one more message before you have to be a responsible adult. ‘Right? It was either Sushi, Tuna, or Sardine, but I thought Flounder would be more fitting and unique. Tetra is my other cat and she’s the worst about stealing my food.’

‘Sounds like Kenai can finally make some friends! And attempt to steal a morsel alongside.’

Typing out the message, you hesitate to send, but with the shared love of felines you honestly feel as though Jeongguk will not overanalyze your reply. Anxious for lunch break, you handle the hours with ease, conversing with LenLen from time to time to figure out who has done what on the chores list. LenLen speaks of a guy that she met recently, with a square jawline and hair as curly as a bowl of ramen noodles, yet his bright smile is what drew her to him. You talk of how happy you are for her and hope for the best, chickening out to tell her about Jeongguk, especially with it being, in your opinion, extremely too soon to mention.

Retrieving your food, you hide away in the breakroom where your eyes immediately glue to your cellular device anticipating whatever Jeongguk has said. ‘Hell yeah, my babies would love that, they do very well with other animals, surprisingly. Hey, sorry I left so soon yesterday, something came up.’

‘It takes a bit for Kenai to warm up, but he will adapt just fine. All he cares about is his stomach being full. No need to apologize, I totally get it.’ Eyebrows furrowed; you can’t help the wonder of what made him leave so soon. Also, you are not one to press further, if he wants to explain himself then he will. Otherwise, you hope that everything is okay with him.

It has only been a few days when you enter the coffee shop again, making it obvious that it indeed is your favorite, and you are shocked the employees don’t know you by name yet. Or so you assume. It is when you see Jeongguk taking a sip of his drink searching for an empty table, your heart leaps as if on cue. You are starting to assume that maybe he is a recent frequenter of this same coffee shop too. Why else have you seen him twice in the span of a few days? You’ve never noticed him here before this week, so now you wonder if he recently moved to the city. His leather jacket hugs his frame as his hair is styled to his liking. You hardly notice the way your mouth waters instinctively and you snap back into focus when you are next in line.

Pretending you didn’t notice Jeongguk, you decide to find a seat a short distance away just in case by some chance he acknowledges you. With coffee in hand, you pick a spot and not even sixty seconds later, you hear the familiar click notification of someone typing on Snapchat. Jittery, which you wish wasn’t so obvious, you carefully reach for your phone seeing: Jeongguk is typing… lighting the screen. Without thinking, you immediately lift your gaze to see him staring at you, a mischievous smirk gracing his pink lips.

Just for his delight, you play along spinning some storybook thought that you two are forbidden lovers hiding from the community by texting instead of speaking to one another in person. Get a grip, y/n, you scold yourself mentally. Opening the message, it reads: may I join you in coffee matrimony?

Shaking your head along with a breathy laugh to his cheesy statement, you respond with a pun, only if you keep me brewing, Tatts!

The creak of his chair echoes as he slides it back. Shyly, you hold his stare, watching him and his thick boots walk to settle into the chair across from you. “Clever,” he muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Strands of his hair fall at the outer corners of his eyes, and you breathe in the faint scent of his cologne. This time, you do not get a whiff of any cigarettes, so you question if he’s even had one today. “If you’re not careful,” he deliberates, “I might have to show you what it’s like to get creamed.”

“Hm.” Arching an eyebrow, you catch on to his game, and if he wasn’t so damn alluring, you wouldn’t even give this conversation another thought with anybody else, “You better hope it tastes as sweet as sugar.” He doesn’t expect you to say that. He may have had women fall hopelessly at his feet, and as much as you feel you might be the next one, you definitely aren’t going to show it. Not right now.

“I hear that the ladies like it steamy.”

“Or iced,” you shrug nonchalantly. Ice play has always been a curiosity of yours, but he doesn’t have to know that. When he doesn’t seem to come up with another pun, you chew the corner of your lip before you lean onto the table yourself, inching as close as you can that the table between you two will allow. “Tell me, Boots, how is it… that a guy with this tough exterior can be so delicately precious about his cats?”

He gestures with his hands. “What can I say? I have to set a good example.”

You harrumph humorously. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He feigns surprise. “You think I am incapable of being a good role model to my children?”

“Oh please. All you have to do is keep their food bowls filled to the brim and you’ve already won dad of the year.”

Jeongguk winks, bringing his hands together to interlace his fingers reminding you of the tattoos you wish you can visualize more. “Easy peasy lemon squeezy,” he smirks.

You have a hard time breaking his gaze, but you clear your throat when it lingers a bit too long. “Anyways,” you attempt to change the subject, “I hope all is well.” You’re really hinting about why he left so suddenly the last time but knowing men do not always pick up on hints, you know you will accept whether he gets what you mean or not.

“Seeing that you put your clothes on right today, my OCD hasn’t been triggered.”

“Happy to see I’ve made a difference in your life.” You playfully sneer.

“It’s the little things that count.”

You feel your uterus squeeze. How the fuck is he so damn attractive for? “I’ll keep that in mind every time I dress.” You say it too quickly without thinking, your cheeks glimmering blood red. He quirks an eyebrow tauntingly.

“I can always help.”

“Nice try, Cigs.”

Except… You want him to try. That itching desire travels through your chest, and you wonder maybe… just maybe, you can get his help. Not necessarily with getting dressed because you swear you are competent to do so, but… maybe he can cure the curse of loneliness, even if it’s just for the moment. You want to deny that you hope it will be much more than just this moment. You can’t explain any of this. Are you trying to impress him?

Uncrossing your ankles underneath the table, you do slide your feet forward taking the tip of your boot to tickle up his leg and you can’t help the smirk that graces your lips when he sucks in a hiss. There’s a tad bit of space on the chair where you place your boot, gracefully taking your other foot to nestle on the other side of his hips. You don’t know what is taking over you, but it’s divine, and now you can’t stop yourself especially with his eyes tempting for you to continue. “I’m gonna need help with more than-”

“How’s it going?”

You jolt, boots slamming to the ground when your wide eyes shoot to see a smiling employee who clearly is going from table to table to check on customers. Stammering, you lick your lips while Jeongguk tries not to laugh in response to your sudden shock. “Goo-good!” You plaster a wide smile while the employee bows swiftly to then waltz to the next table as if they didn’t intrude on your façade to win over this incredibly attractive man across from you. Fuck, you grimace. How embarrassing.

When coffees are finished and downed in clumsy silence, you reach for a stick of gum, offering Jeongguk a piece so you don’t feel so insecure about the coffee breath. He offers to walk you home, but you tell him the bookstore is where you plan to be next. You’re not ready to go home because home is where you will replay the humiliation of what just happened repeatedly. You need a distraction.

Side by side, the pair of you set off down the alley, your nerves still shooting through your limbs while anxiety of what to talk about tackles your brain cells. You’re really trying to forget already, but it’s too fresh to just repress. Maybe there is a sliver of comfort with the silence, but of course, you overthink that as well because when do you not overthink?

You know what? You saw the pleasure in his eyes, there wasn’t a smidge of doubt in his expression when his body responded to you in the coffee shop. Noting that the alley is empty, you take the opportunity. If he wasn’t the slightest bit into you, he wouldn’t be adamant on making sure you arrive to your next location safely. But you need to think fast before you exit the alley. “Cigs!” You blurt. He stops the second you do. The gravel beneath his boots being the last sound you hear before adrenaline takes over.

Your hands grip the front of his leather jacket and when he clues in, as if rehearsed, his large hands grasp your hips, walking you backwards until your back gently bumps against the brick building. His gaze is intense as if preparing you what you are asking for while your mouth parts in yearning for whatever he is about to do. He over towers you, and your eyes never move even when his palms slide to your waist, his shaky exhales leaving his nostrils. His lips are pressed together. When you think he’s about to kiss you, he slams his eyes shut, shifting nothing but his forehead to lean to yours as your eyes flutter closed. Waiting.

Tingles resonate across your skin and the longing is immensely strong, you don’t want to hold back. You hadn’t realized that the back of your hands are against the brick wall as if you have surrendered to him. In a way, you have. The seconds feel like minutes, and when you think he will finally connect with your body, he pulls away. His hands ghost your waist.

For some reason, you keep your eyes closed. His lips then brush warmly to your forehead and with that, you hear the crunch of his footsteps disappearing as he did the first time you met. Your eyes peel open, and it’s like Jeongguk is a figment of your imagination because now:

he’s gone.

You never expected to hear from him again, but as days pass, it’s crazy how one person can enrapture the entirety of your thoughts even with the distractions from work because Jeongguk has mastered it for you. And that is how it has been the rest of the week, giddily waiting on his every text and enjoying every bit of the conversations shared between you two as if the sexual tension in the alley never happened. Eagerly, you toss and turn at night due to the cycle of daydreams rehearsing in your mind rent free, but you can’t help yourself, you love to imagine the possibilities of a real adventure with someone you want to spend time with again. If it ever happens.

“You’re glowing.” Monnie’s eyes squint as you grin away to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator for an electrolyte drink.

“I… cleansed my face?”

“No, it’s not that.”

Teasingly scoffing, you take a swig of your drink, “I... am… expecting?”

“Nice try,”

You nearly choke on the second sip, “C’mon, it’s not that impossible. You don’t know my schedule.”

“I know it enough to know that you haven’t missed a birth control shot since you became physically intimate, and that was practically decades ago.”

“You can just say sex you know,” you retaliate, “And for your information, I had sex last year.”

“Yeah, practically decades ago.”

“Fine. Ten or so excruciatingly long years ago, I had sex.”

“So, in conclusion, you are not with child.”

“Yet,” you ploy, letting Monnie glare at you as she slowly steps out of the kitchen. Who are you kidding? You don’t have time for kids, and you know it. Despite what your uterus wants, you do have to find a stable time to want to produce so for now, you shall wait until the time is right. Hence, why you remain on birth control until you know for sure. Otherwise, life goes on as always. Besides… you do recall the last time you had sex. And… it wasn’t with Hoseok. A secret you will take to your grave if you have to. A secret that happened one drunken night weeks after you and Hoseok broke up. And, you never went back hence why it has been a year since you’ve had sex.

You had guilt as if you cheated on Hoseok even though you did not in fact. Either way, you throw the memory into the depths of your mind and try to force yourself to forget how plush the man’s lips felt along your skin. Instead, you replace it with the brief kiss Jeongguk left on your forehead which feels so out of reach.

During the time of messaging back and forth, one evening, Jeongguk offers to call you due to an atrocious event happening at your workplace that you and LenLen got involuntarily involved in. A customer apparently read a sales sign wrong and didn’t realize it until checkout and no matter how much you and your coworker tried explaining things, the customer was not having it which leaves you to call a manager. Overall, it was a situation that unfolded that you honestly wished didn’t hover in your brain cells, but when Jeongguk calls so you can rant, it means the world.

“You are quite attractive and that’s one hundred percent a compliment, and I’m not one to just throw those around to male specimens.” You confess after long conversation. It’s like you moved on from the awkward interactions. Plus, you convince yourself that you came on too strong the last time you saw him.

He snickers on the other line and vividly you imagine his smile, tickling your tummy like the beating wings of multiple butterflies. “Why, thank you. You definitely have my attention, too, ya know.”

“Well…’ You press the knuckle of your thumb to your bottom lip for a second, “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“And you also deserve to be respected. I’m sorry the customer gave you and your friend such a hard time. If retail is no longer what you want to do, my stepbrother owns a well-known bookstore. I remember you mentioning your love for books at one point and I’m sure he will offer good pay.”

“You would do that for lil’ ole’ me?”

Chuckling lightly, “Anybody with a smart mouth like yours needs a break too.”

“Oh shucks,” though he can’t see it, your cheeks flush a hot shade of red. “Consider me interested! I may give the store some more time since I don’t want to leave LenLen stranded so abruptly, otherwise, I might put in an application just cause.”

“I’ll keep my stepbrother posted.”

You thank him before you decide to head to bed, dazed on cloud nine as you hang up the phone.

It doesn’t matter how busy you are, the second you see the: Jeongguk is typing…. Notification it’s:

Halt. Stop everything and scramble to unlock the phone screen. Breathe. He is just a guy. He is just a dude with tattoos. Okay, must read message in sixty seconds to not seem desperate. Force yourself to Google search ‘kittens’ to distract your frantic desire to reply immediately to his every text. Does it work? Partially.

So…. I was wondering, would you happen to be off in the next few days? It’s been a minute.

Double take. Eyes enlarged. No way. Inhale. Release. Slowly but clearly, you reread the Snapchat message as if your life depends on it. How long has it been since you two have been messaging back and forth? Maybe a few weeks? But how should you respond? Maybe not as excited so you don’t appear deprived? Or seem super excited so that he knows you are most definitely wanting to meet up? You were super proud of yourself with how contained you stayed when he called you however long ago. Nay, appear neutral. Come across dainty with a sprinkle of bad ass, that’ll get him…. Right? Okay, maybe not.

Funny you ask because I happen to be off today. Send. You squeal internally. You genuinely can’t help how stoked you are in seeing him; the next question is, what is his idea of fun aside from the coffee shop? You are honestly up for anything even if it’s admiring the night sky on a roof with glasses of wine. Or, admiring his tattoos and him explaining the meanings of each one. You have always wanted to get a tattoo yourself but have yet to decide not only what to get but when the right time will be. As with anything, you want the first time to be special. That’s what she said, as you roll your eyes at yourself. Your uterus sure likes to talk, and you really hope you can keep yourself tame once you see him again because a year of no intimacy is already hard enough; and you atrociously hate admitting that you sometimes become lonely for a partner even though healing this past year has been a roller coaster. Even trying to avoid the temptation to reach out… to the last man you entangled with.

Shuddering with guilt, you stroll to the kitchen upon waiting for Jeongguk’s response, and you notice beneath a magnet the card the driver, Jimin, had given you forever ago. The day you met Jeongguk. Carefully shifting it out from under the magnet, an idea does form. Maybe Jeongguk would like to meet you there at the opening. Does he seem like a ‘bar’ type kinda guy? Oh. You wince. What does that even mean? Who doesn’t like a bar setting with a few beers? Plus, it’s been a while since you’ve been to one so why not?

Well today is our lucky day for I happen to have the next 12 hours to find something fun to do. Whaddya say about joining me?

Bring it on, Cigs. You respond and despite the nervous jitters, you type more after the initial message you sent. I actually promised to go to an opening of a new bar that happens to be tonight. If I send the address, would you like to meet me there?

When he asks for the time and where, you send the information. You will get to see him tonight. Now all you can do is panic about what to wear and if you even have anything to wear for the occasion.

Fantastic.

Quivering fingers amidst clammy palms slide across the tops of your thighs while you steadily breathe. You, being the early bird that you are, arrive at the bar a few minutes earlier than what you mentioned to Jeongguk. The last you heard from him was when you both finalized the plan. To calm the nerves, you definitely need a drink. A strong one. Your maroon dress clings to your frame the way you like, and you made sure your make up was exactly how you like it to be.. You haven’t felt this confident since you left your ex. And you hope this proves that you never need a man to help you dress.

You ordered a cab to get there so you didn’t have to worry about driving, and you figure if you and Jeongguk still hit it off in person as you do through messaging, then maybe he can make sure you get home safely. So, you hope. Maybe even make up for lost time since the alley.

Sending a quick message to let Jeongguk know you have arrived; your eyes observe your surroundings, and you don’t see him anywhere just yet. Maybe he is stuck in traffic? You wonder. If he is driving, obviously he shouldn’t message you, so you show your ID to the bouncer after standing in line for a few minutes letting the uneasiness settle.

Bodies are scattered among the floor as music blares throughout the building. Laughter and the smell of alcohol is the first thing that comes to your nostrils while your eyes trail for some familiar faces if any happen to be here. Colorful flashing lights wave over the tables, walls, and chairs while people dance continuously, and you really hope despite the overall dim lighting you recognize Jeongguk the second he walks in. Regardless, you search for Jimin since he is the one who invited you, but you haven’t seen him thus far.

Swallowing down the nerves, you squeeze through the crowd until you reach the bar, asking for something strong for you to sip on until Jeongguk arrives. It’s been about ten minutes once your drink is in your hand, and when you check your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read the message. You contemplate phoning him, but know it’s too loud to try, so you assure yourself he will be here. You have full confidence that he will call you if he is running late. Which… technically at this point he should have called you by now.

To divert yourself from the sinking feeling, you watch the bustles of people having the time of their lives when a particular human being causes your shoulders to stiffen and your mouth to run dry. Flashbacks of that night flicker in your mind as a weary sense of dread subdues you. The secret you have kept concealed from the world. Stay calm, y/n. Remain. Calm. You hardly remember how you got there, but you noticed how handsome he was, how his hair was loosening from the gel, and his smile put you at ease as you two laughed together. He was drunk, too, but both of you were still aware enough to know what was happening. What was stirring between you two. All you held onto was how he was the first to make you laugh in weeks during that time.

You knew you shouldn’t have been there, but you didn’t care, and you were desperate to feel something. Freshly single and overruled by anger, you let it win. When you kissed him for the first time, he froze, and you pulled away. But he held your eyes, flitting between them without a single word. Instead, he leaned forward and kissed you back, and you remember the way his palm felt on your cheek. The way the kisses grew aggressive and emotional as if he felt the guilt from keeping the secret buried from you. Knowing his best friend was in the wrong for what he did to you, but he knew it wasn’t his place to tell you the truth. But boy, had you made it your place to entangle with this guy who was giving into what his emotions were displaying. He wanted you to feel special. It was like his kisses brought an apology you wished your ex would have given you.

So, in a strange yet erotic way, you let it all go with him. Drunken, slovenly kisses until the pair of you started to sober up enough to experiment further. You can’t remember much of the foreplay, but you do, however, remember when he pressed himself into you, riding smoothly as he kissed every inch of your face and your neck. His hands didn’t exactly know where to touch, but his lips did, and that was enough. He moved in you so gently.

When you had awaken the next morning, you laid flat on your back while tears streamed from the corners of your eyes. You don’t know how long you remained there. You don’t know how long you silently cried. But you left before he woke up. You left before you both had to take in account of what you two had done. What you two had shared.

Now here he is in the present.

Kim Namjoon, Hoseok’s best friend, is here, and he spots you almost as immediately as you spot him. Gulping, you do not know what else to do other than spin around immediately and face the bar contemplating to chug every ounce of the alcohol remaining in your glass. Setting your drink down cautiously to not spill the contents, a rear of nausea raises its ugly head. What is Namjoon doing here!? The last time you saw him was the night you would do anything to forget.

Heart hammering, you squeeze your eyes closed. Namjoon may have given you a good night to hold on to for a while a year ago, but it wasn’t anything more than that. It couldn’t be. You were full of anger and a brief desire of revenge, and you were drunk, and you were-

Large hands lean upon the counter of the bar on either side of you as you suck in a breath. You recognize those hands. Those hands are the ones that slid along your body while you pleaded for more. And the countenance of his frame over towers you as you feel the tip of his lips centimeters from your ear kindling goosebumps along your arms. But these hands aren’t the hands you’ve been waiting for. Not one tattoo shows on these hands.

“Long time, no see.” Namjoon says into your ear. Mustering enough courage after steadying yourself, you turn to face him for the first time in a year. His eyes are as filled with longing as they were the night you last saw him. The kind of longing that wonders of how you feel about what occurred. If you still ponder it.

“What are you doing here!?” You say amongst your trembling body. You try to stay firm though you know deep down none of this was Namjoon’s fault. Trying to set your jaw, you take in the way his shirt tugs at his muscles, and the way his hair is gelled to perfection. You have forgotten how beautiful this man is, but Jeongguk. Where the literal fuck is Jeongguk? He is who you want deep down. So where is he? “Never mind that,” you shake your head, realizing he has every right to be here as you do. “What do you want?”

Namjoon’s eyes flicker along your face momentarily before he speaks. The way his dominant gaze holds you in place could drive any woman mad. “To make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh bullshit.” You say through gritted teeth because not only is Namjoon’s proximity bringing unwanted emotions, but it is also bringing the memories of Hoseok. Memories you really have tried not to relive.

Namjoon’s eyes squeeze shut. “y/n, I’m being serious. You fell off the face of the earth since…”

“Since what? Since Hoseok? Or you?” His mouth shuts automatically. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. What happened that night… It was my fault. I know that, but it shouldn’t have happened.” The anger for even saying Hoseok’s name after so long of refusing to is a strange feeling. Namjoon swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and you visibly see the guilt in his eyes because he agrees. Hoseok has been his best friend since they were kids. “How long had you known by the way? About the other girl? Who is she?” He releases a sigh, shaking his head while he tilts his gaze downward in shame. He knows. Of course, he does. He’s refusing to answer the question, but you ask another one anyway. You know it’s too loud to whisper, and from your peripheral, you may have gained a few stares, but you raise your voice just enough for Namjoon to hear. “Does… he know?”

“That we fucked?” Namjoon answers quickly, his eyes locking with yours. “Of course not.” He’s not going to risk losing his friendship is what you are reading between the lines.

“Good.” You refuse to move your gaze. “Keep it that way. Please.” He’s still so close. And you breathe in his scent. Your hand brushes his chest, while your forehead touches to his chin. Both of you share a silent understanding. A pact.

Namjoon is about to say more but you politely shove his arm out of your way ignoring his reach to stop you. You’re scared that you will give in to the thought of him from all these emotions. Whatever he has to say, he can keep it to himself. For now. You need to catch your breath.

Checking your phone, Jeongguk still hasn’t read your message and at this point, you have no idea of where he is or why he even bothered agreeing to show up if he truly had no intentions of seeing you again. Maybe you should have known better. He has the bad boy persona just from his stature, but maybe for once you wanted to believe you could get excited about someone again. Maybe he was the distraction you hoped for and needed, and now that your nerves are shot, and your heart is aching from all the emotions, you’ll do anything at this point to rid of it all.

Regretfully forgetting your drink at the bar and realizing after you move to another section of the place, you happen to see Jimin whose face lights up with recognition. Air escapes your lungs yet again because you forgot how attractive he is too. You notice he has been conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin which makes you want to faint since he is so famous and you have yet to meet a famous person, but for right now, despite the tears wanting to spill down your cheeks from the interaction with Namjoon and the acceptance that Jeongguk will not be showing up after all, you are so thankful that Jimin is making his way towards you. Until your emotions settle, you cannot risk humiliating yourself in front of a celebrity of Seokjin’s status. It would be too much.

Your jaw almost drops though when you catch a sudden glimpse of your coworker LenLen who is snug against a man with fluffy hair a short distance away, and you realize that this must be the man she’s been talking to you about! You tell yourself that you will make sure to say hey to her if you get the chance. It’s about time other conversation is shared that is not related exclusively to work.

“Hey there!” Jimin smiles fully, bringing your muddled mind back to attention. He leans in for a quick hug before pulling away. “You look amazing!”

Blushing, you feel where his fingers stop at your elbows. He has such a kind aura about him that makes you feel safe, so you hope he invites you to hang out, especially since LenLen happens to be in the group Jimin has been socializing with from your quick assumptions. “You look good, too!” You feel like you’re shouting, but you don’t care. You are somewhat relieved to finally have somebody to hang out with no matter how quick it lasts. “How is the opening going? Everything go according to plan?”

“Hell, yeah it has!” Jimin beams. “Taehyung is beyond happy with the results. The line outside is insanity!”

“So happy for you both!” You say, and before you think you may have some form of solace, you wonder where Namjoon is or if he miraculously left, but instead of him, you notice someone else. And you beg the heavens on why you can’t seem to catch a break.

Heart shattering to the floor, your eyes widen, and if Jimin is chatting, you definitely can’t hear him over the loud pounding of your heart in your temples. Is this the real reason Namjoon approached you? That he tried to stop you? To warn you?

If the forbidden person you are frozen by sees you, you don’t care, you need a reason for his heart to break. Something worse than him finding out that you slept with his best friend if he ever does. Hoseok pauses the moment he sees you standing there; a strange look of confusion dawns him instantly as his eyes look from you to Jimin and back. You can’t help the way your gaze automatically drifts to see if you find her, too. The girl he chose over you, but you do not see a female near him. Not yet. You tell yourself that you never want to know who she is, but there is always that sick vengeance of discovering.

Jimin’s eyebrow arches as he follows your gaze. Whether he knows Hoseok or not, that part is the least of your concerns. Jeongguk stood you up, Namjoon confronted you, and your ex-boyfriend who you loved for three years that relentlessly ripped your heart out of your chest- is here and it is too overwhelming to describe right now the full-blown panic shredding every fiber of your being; the utter disbelief how this shit show of a night has unfolded. You wish you were drunk enough to ignore this inexplainable pain. You wish you had a place to escape to.

But… Maybe Jimin is it. If Jeongguk didn’t want to be, then maybe Jimin will.

Despite his furrowed eyebrows, when Jimin turns just enough to look at you, it’s all it takes. Briskly, you cup his face, pressing a kiss to his cloud-like lips while he stumbles in surprise. Relief floods your quivering frame when he doesn’t even remotely hesitate to kiss you back. His lips are enticingly soft and pure, and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss letting the tip of his tongue brush yours ever so slightly. He tastes of peppermint and booze, and he tastes so good, you get tipsy just off his lips. You move your hands to lock behind his neck while his fingers find a hold on your waist. “Well damn,” he says breathless against your lips while peppering short kisses in between his words. “If I would have known, I would have done this much sooner.”

Gripping loose strands on the back of his head, you lift onto the tips of your toes. “You won’t regret it,” you purr into Jimin’s ear, gaze tauntingly floating to stare right into Hoseok’s, whose eyes widen in enormous shock, before Jimin pins you to his frame as if your clothes are a barrier he wishes didn’t exist. Everywhere is too crowded to really notice the way you two lock lips for majority of the evening. And you are well aware that you two are not the only ones making out.

You know Hoseok is watching every second, probably fuming, probably balling his fists, probably justifying every reason he has to interrupt. You hope he is watching every grip of Jimin’s fingers on your ass, the way his lips suck your neck, or the way he twirls your body under the spotlight if a song he likes comes on. You know the jealousy that’s bubbling beneath Hoseok’s chest is about to erupt. But he also knows better than to intervene between the woman he betrayed and who he is assuming to be her new boyfriend. Because it’s too late. You wouldn’t take him back even if he begged. Because whoever she is out there, she knows what she did to you, too. How she couldn’t even show her face when Hoseok burst onto the porch the day you found out. How her breasts were rounded beneath Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt you painfully remembered was missing when you finally had a moment where your emotions didn’t get the best of you. She had that shirt the entire time.

You hadn’t planned to invite Jimin over. The night drives on and you see that Jeongguk at this point, indeed, read your message, but didn’t bother to respond. Didn’t bother to even make an excuse. To explain why he left you to unintentionally fend for yourself. He could have been here. He could have saved you from tonight if he wanted to. But he didn’t.

You hop into Jimin’s car willingly and he drives you home, kissing you and kissing you while your clothes hit the bedroom floor. Jimin slides on a condom before he pushes into you from behind when your body pins to the wall, him pounding as if to the beat of a song while his teeth dig into your shoulder, into your neck. “Deeper!” You squeal. “Keep going, ah-!”

You do not care about the sounds that have echoed from either of your mouths or the number of positions you two have attempted. You lost count after four. You don’t care that you just met him a few weeks ago. You don’t care how you are going to feel in the morning. Yes, you are aware that you are sober this time. But you want Jimin to keep moving inside you until you forget about your one-night stand with your ex’s best friend. Till you forget about Hoseok’s betrayal that haunts your mind and shreds your heart. Till you forget about the girl who took part in ruining your life. Till you forget about the tattooed man who you hoped would rescue you.

Cigs.

Fuck you, Cigs.

The morning comes quickly coupled with a pounding headache while you groggily stretch your arms and legs amidst the tangled bed sheets. You accidentally brush warm skin causing you to jolt upright. Wincing, the pounding in your head worsens, yet you turn just enough to assess that you one hundred percent just hooked up with the hot driver who co-owns a bar and is best friends with a celebrity.

Fuck.

Your palms slap to your face. You weren’t even intoxicated, so how could you let this happen? You may not have been drunk off your ass, but you sure as hell were emotional and that can be equally as dangerous as taking shots of the strongest alcoholic beverage out there. “Shit,” you murmur to yourself, watching the slow fall and rise of Jimin’s breathing. Kenai chirps outside your bedroom door and you realize it is probably past his breakfast time. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you can, you freshen up and brush your teeth. Twice. Just in case if you ultimately decide to continue this rendezvous before you kick Jimin out.

Shuddering, you wonder how loud you might have been last night. And by that you mean, was your sister home? And did she hear the commotion you let out the second you got Jimin alone? If she was home maybe, you could handle that truth. What also concerns you is if Yoongi was home too. You couldn’t bear facing the two of them if they were home while you tackled Jimin like a football player between the sheets.

Oh, when will all this humiliation end!? You want to scream outwardly. It’s been never ending. And, when you start to dress into a nightgown, you finger at the red mark on your shoulder. A reminder of where Jimin had been. And you hate that you like it.

Leaving the bathroom trying to rid the thought, you see Jimin is fully awake and putting on his shirt, his pants already hugging his toned legs. His hair is unkempt from the night before, and it looks cuter that way with his array of colors dyed with the blonde. “Hey there,” he smiles brightly when he sees you. You notice him pop a piece of gum in his mouth which you figure is because he never planned to bring a toothbrush… Because he hadn’t planned to sleep with anybody until you ferociously pounced.

“Hey,” You reply softly, crossing your arms to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. Kenai is still meowing outside the bedroom, frequently pawing at the door.

“Somebody’s pissed.” Jimin chuckles, pointing at the door.

“He’s starving 24/7 and likes to remind me just as often.” You kid, eventually stepping to sit on the bed. You aren’t sure how to feel about last night. But at the same time, should you regret it? The way Jimin’s eyes swept your body, to be honest, you kind of don’t regret it. “How did you sleep?” You try to make small talk to prevent any uneasy friction.

“Wonderfully.” He smiles again. “I hope you did?” He stands, rounding the bed to gently take a seat next to you. The smell of mint from his gum wafting to you tempting you to taste it.

“I did.” You return his smile, leaning in to touch a small kiss to his plush lips. Your headache is starting to dull some which makes you feel better. “Thank you for last night. I had fun.” You lean your forehead against his cheek as he leans back into you.

“I had fun, too.” He says quietly. Taking in a deep breath, he stands as you follow suit. “I better get going. Taehyung has been blowing up my phone wondering where I am. Really, I mean it when I say I had fun. Maybe… we can link up again soon?”

Hand in hand, you lead him to the front door while Kenai excitingly runs his furry body against both of your legs. Giggling, you kiss Jimin some more, “I’d like that.” A couple more kisses and you smile against his lips, “See ya.”

“See ya.” He nods, kissing your cheek one last time before taking off. As much as you wish that your heart would be soaring through the sky: it doesn’t. All your head can seem to obsess over is why Jeongguk stood you up. Was it all a game? Just to get a high that a girl wanted him, just for him to leave her stranded. What gives? In the end, is it really worth the explanation? You are so sick of getting screwed over.

“Who was that?”

“GAH!” You jump causing Kenai to dash wherever he can to hide. Your heart nearly stopped beating and your hand flies to your chest with relief when you see the teasing stare of your sister, Monnie.

“Monnie! For goodness sakes, you scared the fuck out of me!”

“Well!?” Monnie, not missing a beat, bellows. “Who was he!?”

“Nobody.” That is your first response as if you need a defense mechanism.

“Nobody!? With the animalistic sounds I heard last night, you have the absolute nerve to tell me that was nobody!?”

“He’s… He’s a guy I met a few weeks ago,” you try to reply while your heartbeat attempts to calm.

“He is cute,” she coos. “Like smooth like butter cute. Like the butter you slab on a piece of crisp toast cute. He can make anybody feel warm and fuzzy. Girl, I’m telling you right now-”

“Okay, we get it! I know.” You aren’t sure how to cope with the chagrin reddening your cheeks, or the dulling headache on top of it, but you manage somehow. “Please tell me Yoongi isn’t here.”

“Lucky for you he’s at a conference and has been since yesterday afternoon, so he didn’t hear a thing. I was supposed to go but I got-” She mimics what is supposed to be a cough into her hand. “Sick.”

“Oh! You are ridiculous!”

“It’s called, my sister brought home a cute guy for the first time in a decade, and I must hear all about it.”

“Nope!” You say trying to brush past her. “By the way, it’s only been a year.”

“Not anymore-!”

“Gah!” You clap back, slamming your bedroom door, and diving onto your bed, the mattress bounces your body while you scream heavily into a pillow. The scent of Jimin is everywhere in your room still and your sister’s voice keeps rattling on about how she just wants you to be happy and that you deserve to be even though in your heart, you have no idea when that day will come. Eventually you will confide in her about everything, but for now you will bury your face into the pillow and let the tears flow until you fall back asleep.

Monnie reluctantly gives you space, but only because she has ‘somewhere to be,’ and she is ‘not going to let you make her late.’ So, she says. You give Kenai an extra bit of food in hopes to win back his forgiveness and you dress out of the nightgown considering another trip to the coffee shop. Your eyes burn slightly from the crying earlier. After last night, you happen to note that you never got Jimin’s number which is probably a good thing so he can avoid the hot mess of thoughts spinning profusely in your mind. Between seeing Namjoon and Hoseok last night and hooking up with Jimin, you can hardly imagine what the two could have said after seeing, not only you, but you sucking faces with another guy. Though it’s nice to have male attention from time to time, you didn’t expect it all to unravel at once.

Some people would make you feel so stupid for your actions while others would praise you for being so bold and independent. You’re single and you can do whatever you want. Are you really mad that you hooked up with Jimin last night? Out of desperation for running into your ex? Or are you more broken about Jeongguk standing you up, and ashamed that you are upset about it when you only have seen him twice?

You can’t help the way you feel. You inhale and exhale deeply. Running from your thoughts is all you want right now.

Entering the coffee shop, you ordered a cab and left a tip because you really despise driving, and here you are in line eventually ordering the same drink you got last time. Why you feel to look for Jeongguk, you wish you didn’t. Training your eyes to focus on what is in front of you- you grip the coffee cup once it’s placed on the counter, and you find a small table in the back away from as many people as you can avoid.

He has his reasons, but you really hope that the reasons weren’t to play with your feelings purposefully. Even though that’s exactly what it looks like. Inwardly, you accept that you probably will never see him again, and you also convince yourself that maybe Jeongguk really was a figment of your imagination. The messages on your phone will say otherwise, but for now, with the hot liquid of your coffee stinging your tongue, you will continue convincing yourself that he is a simple figment of your imagination.

That thought lasts about thirty minutes, when your coffee is halfway downed and the view of a tatted hand glides upon the table where you feel your throat shrink. No fucking way. You keep your gaze on your coffee cup, the faint smell of a cigarette wafts in your direction and you refuse to look at him. Anger blares inside you. You can tell he is gradually taking the seat across from you because it is pretty evident how rigid you are in response to his presence. He can tell you are annoyed. Maybe even furious.

“Hey…” He forces once he scoots the chair closer to the table. You stay silent. “Look, I-”

“What do you want?” You look up finally. His look is firm, but guilt stricken all at the same time. He presses his lips together. “No, really. Amuse me.” You wave a hand at him. “Was it a one night stand you wanted? Because you could have just asked.”

His eyes enlarge but only slightly. “No. No, that’s definitely not-”

“Then what? What do you want?” You rarely give him a chance to speak before you start gathering your things. To prevent unwanted attention, you toss the coffee cup into the trash can on your way out, Jeongguk on your heels. Marching toward the sidewalk that you can follow back to the city; you huff in exasperation when you feel his hand curl around your arm.

“Let go of me!” You say loudly, thrusting your arm away from him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay. Just- just let me explain-”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.” You try to walk away.

“y/n. Please.”

You thought you lost your shit last night when you attacked Jimin’s mouth in front of Hoseok. And you thought you lost your shit this morning when you sobbed into your pillow. But this anger and desperation and sadness that you have kept pent up since the day you discovered Hoseok’s infidelity is about to explode. And it’s about to explode in what you know will embarrass you for the rest of your life. Or… it just flat out won’t.

Scoffing, you pause, spinning to face Jeongguk, whose hands raise as if to calm you down, but you are far from calm. “You know what?” You say slowly. “That whole spiel about how I deserve to be respected was a whole load of bullshit wasn’t it?” You step forward making it clear that you aren’t done speaking, and though Jeongguk claimed weeks ago that he wasn’t scared of anything, there is the slightest hint of fear you gather in his eyes though he straightens to let his arms hang loosely at his sides. “I’m starting to think there’s no such thing anymore. First, after three years, with who I thought was the absolute love of my life, three years, he cheats on me with some chick I still to this day do not know who she is or how the fuck they met. So, for unplanned revenge, I fucked his best friend and guess what!?” You throw your hands up, “They both were at the bar last night. Both. Of. Them. How the fuck does that happen!? I move to the city to run away from my problems, and they follow me anyway. They fucking follow me as if I need that reminder. As if I need to relive that heartbreak over and over again. As if I deserve it- to have it thrown in my face.” Running your hands through your hair, you choke back a sob. You refuse to cry in front of this man who is basically a stranger but not really. You don’t notice the remorse showing in his eyes after revealing your limited yet very detailed confession. How he could have easily prevented this.

“I meet you once, and for the first time in a year, I finally know what it’s like to be excited again. To have something to potentially look forward to.” You laugh one syllable. “And yet, I don’t fucking know a single thing about you. Where you’re from, where you work, why you suddenly start coming to this coffee shop when I have never seen you there before, and I keep beating myself up for being so damned hurt about this when you’re a total stranger.” You can’t even look him in the eyes. “And there you are, completely leaving me stranded in a bar when you said you’d fucking be there. Respect, my ass. Have a nice life, Cigs.”

“You do deserve respect.” Oh, why do you pause? “I fucked up last night, okay!? I um…” He trails off, shaking his head as if to rid of whatever he originally was going to say. “Something came up-”

“Is that what it’s going to be every single time!? Something came up!?”

He winces when he acknowledges how bad it seems. “Look I- I know how it sounds. Please. Just let me make it up to you.”

Scanning him from his styled hair to the charcoal color of his boots, the thrilling sense of lust clouds your frame simultaneously to your mouth watering. It takes everything in you not to rush forward and cling onto him as if your life depends on it. But, at the same time, you see a guy who completely ghosted you on a night you may have needed his company most. And, if he was willing to do that to you last night, why wouldn’t he do it again?

The anger is still written all over your face and your demeanor. Sneering, your lips curl.

“No.”

And you stomp off toward whatever destination you hope to find as you did a year ago when you ran from disappointment. You wonder how it feels for him to see you walk away this time.

It doesn’t matter the day or the hour. Every time you step foot into the same coffee shop, he’s there. Jeongguk is there. Sitting a table away, keeping his eyes on you. Waiting for you to cave. You have ignored every single message he has sent. Every call he has attempted. Yet, you are also fighting the urge to just be near him. Give him another chance. Maybe it’s the fact that you truly do want to know where he was the night, he stood you up. But is it worth knowing the truth? The only thing you didn’t mention the last time you spoke to Jeongguk was the one night stand you had with Jimin. Not that it was any of Jeongguk’s business, but still. You don’t want to appear like sex with strangers is something you do all the time, because it’s not. And even if it was, it’s nobody’s business but yours.

You decide to walk the city. If he follows you there, then so be it. Compiling your things, you head out onto the sidewalk, letting the breeze nip your skin. The recent memory of LenLen asking about Jimin and you trying your best to answer her questions without blushing replays. She told you about Taehyung and how him and Jimin are best friends which you happened to already know and you relay to her how happy you are that she found Taehyung. You also apologize that you didn’t get to say hello, but she winks at you for she witnessed the reason why.

When you start reaching the city, you hardly can believe the huge sign, flashing upon the tallest building, of Hoseok’s face which roots your feet to the cement while tears spring in response. Cursing under your breath, you realize that one of the books he had been working on back when you two were together must have been released, the one he continuously spoke about. The one inspired from the script he hoped Kim Seokjin would film a movie with. The one that began with you. Which means, if it has become a success, then now you are going to see his face everywhere you turn. And, if the movie is made, that’s even more publicity Hoseok will gain and even more often you will have to see his face. The more hurt you will endure.

“Damnit,” you want to sob. Out of all the places you think to turn, you flee into the bookstore just to almost collide with a book stand filled from top to bottom with Hoseok’s novel. Fret overpowers your system, and you rush out the doors the second you see it, and you figure maybe walking home, no matter the distance, will help clear the stress out of you. Even though you know it won’t. Because at this point, you give up being in public.

You nearly slam into a figure from your rushed state and when the whiff of a cigarette mingled with cologne greets your nose, you know exactly who you’ve run into. “Why are you doing this.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Why are you following me, Asshole? Did I not make myself clear?”

“I told you I wanted to make it up to you.”

“And I told you no from what I recall.”

“I have short term memory loss.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Nemo-”

“I’d prefer if you joined me.”

“You really are asking to get smacked.”

“I like it rather rough.”

“And I’d like for you to leave me the hell alone.”

“Not until you hear me out.”

“And why should I?”

His eyes flit between yours, “Because I can’t let it go. I messed up.”

“You don’t deserve my forgiveness if that’s what you’re implying. To be honest, it’s ridiculous that I’m even mad about it to begin with. I don’t even know you.”

“See, but you have every right to be. You should be mad.”

“Okay. Well then accept that I’m pissed at you and move on.”

“I shan’t.”

You could laugh. You almost laugh. But you hold it together because you can’t just let him think he can get away with how he just randomly leaves you stranded. When you both almost kissed in the alley way, you could sense that his desire was as solid as yours. He acted as if he wanted you. So, why did he just walk away? What is the point in pursuing someone who will always walk away?

Shoving past him, you wish you would have driven this go round so a route of escape would be available. But unfortunately, you didn’t think this through. The only place you can think of is the garden center above the bookstore that you have only visited every now and then this past year. What of Hoseok could possibly be up there? A mural? Stalking in the direction of the building, you avoid making eye contact with the huge ad about your ex, and eventually round the store to find the elevator. There are only a few floors before you reach the top and once you elbow the button to awaken the elevator, the last thing you expect is Jeongguk to follow you right in when the large doors slide open. But honestly you should have expected it.

You elbowed the button for the top floor where the smell of flowers waits for you, but you can’t ignore the tension simmering once the doors close. You bite the corner of your lip in agony, the ding of the elevator agonizingly slow. “I know you’re not about to stop and smell the roses, Eyebrow.” Referring to his eyebrow piercing that makes your insides lustfully shiver, you’re shocked he takes all your nicknames so well, but then you remember you’re supposed to be mad at him. “Why can’t you just take a hint?”

His finger presses to your lips, vanishing your words as he seductively shushes you. And he shifts to stand in front of you, his nose dangerously tickling the side of your cheek while your body fights to not react to the arousal forming below. He whispers, “I don’t need a hint to know that you want me just as much as I want you.” Whimpering, your eyes trace his face, the way his jaw curves, the way his eyes set firmly to you with no intention of moving. Did you hear him correctly? Did he just admit that he, in fact, wants you too? “So,” he continues, slipping his finger away from your lips, he brings his mouth to yours while you sigh in pleasure. Fuck. Your body begs for him to close the gap. Begs for him to kiss you. But he doesn’t. Not yet. “I suggest you behave yourself if you want to keep me tame.”

He is doing to you what you did to him that day in the coffee shop making an effort to seduce him. But this time, he is winning more than you are letting on. When the ding of the elevator brings attention to the opening doors, Jeongguk sighs, “We’re not going there.” Reaching back to hit whatever button he chooses; you don’t even move to see. He can take you wherever he wants, and you could smack yourself for conceding.

“What do you mean?” You murmur, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I um,” he tilts his head as if embarrassed. “I live here. So, we’re going to the third floor.”

“Excuse me, what?” Your mind is trying to make the connection how it’s possible that he lives on the third floor of your favorite bookstore smack dab in the city. You’ve heard of people who have homes above the places they own, so… Does that mean Jeongguk owns the bookstore? You thought he said his stepbrother owns it? His hand finds yours when the doors slide open again, showing shelves upon shelves of books with sparse customers quietly reading or viewing the array of covers.

Your brain cells are racing but never reaching a finish line as your eyes frantically scan the hallway the pair of you are entering. You try to appreciate the feel of Jeongguk’s hand holding yours, warm and firm and surprisingly safe though you wish you hadn’t lost the will to fight. Why is it so easy for him to melt your anger away? To melt your sadness? To heighten your senses.

He scans something, you assume a card, before opening a large door, flipping on the lights to show an area of simplicity and barely any furniture to decorate once you step inside. The scent is new as if it has just been built, but you know that is impossible considering this bookstore has been around for years. Automatically, you both kick off your shoes. “My stepbrother used to live here before, so I moved in.” He says as if reading your mind. “That’s why there’s not much here, but there’s enough to keep comfortable.” He gestures toward a sofa awkwardly sitting in the middle of what you assume is the living room and loud meows start echoing the second you see a few cat towers sprawled out. Flounder and Tetra.

“I remember you saying he owns a bookstore… it’s here?” You say in disbelief as the cats come flying to greet you and Jeongguk. How can you be mad anymore when these sweet little fluff puffs are rubbing against your legs, mewing for attention? Jeongguk giggles while he tries to bring back the conversation.

He shrugs, unintentionally dismissing the sexual tension that concocted in the elevator only seven minutes ago now that the cats are out and about. “He’s an actor now. He took over when his dad retired.”

“…What do you do?” You’re quiet and you don’t mean to be, but you’ve been struggling with mixed emotions for what seems like an eternity. At this point, you accept if this is a dream versus reality.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, head looking downward. You lick your lips when your eyebrows furrow, but strangely you understand this shame. If your sister didn’t have money, you’d be homeless. Your parents live far away, and in all honesty, you don’t truly talk to them as often as you should. You work part time at a retail store because you can’t seem to get your shit together enough to work full time otherwise, you’d be in the same boat… you’d be doing just that. Nothing. “I used to work as a tattoo artist before I moved here, but um… you may find this hard to believe, but I got my heart broken by someone I fell in love with when I was eighteen.”

“You?” You croak. You mean it to come off as a joke but fail miserably. He finally tilts his head up, softly grinning.

“Yes, a tatted asshole that wears leather and smokes cigs can be capable of falling in love and getting heartbroken instead of causing the heartbreak, Macchiato… Happy?”

Why this vulnerability is happening is unbeknownst to you, but you are very happy that he seems to be opening up. He all but admitted he wants you, too. So, the least he can do is try. Try letting you see past the mystery. Try staying instead of leaving. Saying hello instead of goodbye.

“How long were you two together?” You may have spilled the beans of how long you were with Hoseok, not that Jeongguk knows who he is, but three years is a long time.

“Five years. Found out she cheated on me, too… I lost myself for a long time. Ended up at a different girl’s house every week to numb the pain and never called them back the next day. Became addicted to smoking cigarettes. Went to parties quite a bit… Got drunk, you name it… Moved here with my children the second Jin told me I could. That’s when I finally calmed down and realized, I needed to change before it got worse.”

“I’m so sorry… Sometimes people underestimate the pain of a breakup. Especially if you were with them for such a long time as you were.” It’s quiet a little longer than you mean for it to be, but the similarity of how the two of you got your heart broken is an odd coincidence. But then you gasp when a lightbulb clicks. “Jin!? As in, Seokjin?”

“Yeah?” He says unhurriedly. “Is that hard for you to believe?”

“What? No! I’m just- the Kim Seokjin is your stepbrother? He owns this bookstore?”

“Well yeah, he’s the reason the bills are paid for now until I, myself, can get my shit together.”

You know the concentration it takes to complete a puzzle? Well, this is one of those times. Randomly, you wonder. Does Jeongguk know Jimin since Seokjin knows Jimin?

“Do you know who Jimin is?” You spit out. How are all these male specimens connected? Either way, you are definitely not telling Jeongguk about the rendezvous with Jimin that’s for sure.

His eyebrows scrunch and you visibly witness the way his shoulders rigidify as if he knows exactly who you are talking about. “How do you know Jimin?”

“No reason, just wondering. I saw him hanging out with Seokjin at the bar you failed to show up to.”

“Hm.” He hums once. “Interesting.”

“He co-owns the bar with a guy named Taehyung… My co-worker is dating him. Taehyung, I mean.” You’re having a hard time reading Jeongguk’s expression, but he attempts to not be so uptight.

“Did you… See anybody else there?”

His question hits you by surprise, but you know there is no way he could be referring to Hoseok and Namjoon… Could he? No, of course not. He wasn’t there. He doesn’t know who your ex is specifically. You may have mentioned your ex and your ex’s best friend were at the bar, but you had never given any names. It’s as if Jeongguk is asking solely about someone else… But who?

Pushing your fingertips to your forehead, you release an exasperated sigh. “Can I use your restroom?” You need a moment to yourself. All this unwanted ‘solving’ isn’t getting you anywhere. And why is Jeongguk being so weird about Jimin? He doesn’t know about the hook up and Jeongguk is also not your boyfriend, so why does it matter?

“Yeah, this way,” he points in the direction of what you assume is his bedroom. “On the right.”

The door gently clicks behind you while your palms cling onto the counter when you’re securely within the bathroom. It’s huge. You can tell it’s spacious by the fact you can breathe amidst the anxiety. A jacuzzi and a walk-in shower, a door that you are confident is a towel closet is what you take in once you twirl around. It’s beautiful and so clean, it’s as if nobody has inhabited it in a long time. Either way, you don’t want to take too long, so you pull out a small bottle of mouth wash and complete a brisk breathing exercise before filing out into Jeongguk’s bedroom.

You hadn’t taken time to notice how large his bed is either. The covers are invitingly dark, and you can tell from the curtains that are slightly split show the windows to a magnificent view of the city. Whoever Seokjin’s dad had to construct this place was an absolute genius. A home inside a bookstore, that would be a dream come true for millions.

You brace yourself when you step into the living room, and you notice Jeongguk is preparing wine glasses, a bottle of red is in his hand as he begins to pour the crimson liquid. His cats are munching on some food that he put to keep them occupied. You can tell by his body language that he is going to change the subject regarding Jimin. “How did you know?” You say ultimately when you pull out a stool in front of the counter.

“Nothing a good bit of wine can’t fix.” He winks. “Plus, I figured it will calm the nerves, so we can actually… talk.”

You nod reluctantly, fingers pressing beneath the glass before you take a slow sip. The taste is sour with the mouth wash, but you know after a few sips that will change. A wave of calm floods your chest and limbs once you swallow. “Thank you.” You murmur. He leans on the counter instead of moving to take a seat next to you. He can’t take his eyes off you, and he can’t even explain how just being around you makes him feel. You bring a comfort he hasn’t had in a long time. He knows he has gone about it the wrong way, but he is determined to not let you go this time. No matter how much his ex keeps trying to reach out to win him back. He wants you.

“I’m really sorry about the bar.” He manages to say. He’s not the best with apologies, but he knows you deserve one. “That was really fucked up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No… You shouldn’t have.” You’re honest because you know what it’s like to be betrayed. Jeongguk of all people should get it too after admitting that he has been cheated on before as you have. You must stand your ground regardless of how weak he secretly makes you because no, this specific situation may not be seen as a betrayal, but it was not okay that he left you there alone. He does, however, want to confess everything, of why he didn’t show up. But something keeps telling him that it’s too soon. When he’s ready, he plans to tell you. But for now, he wants to prove to you that he’s not going anywhere this time.

“I know,” he murmurs.

Taking a longer sip of the wine, you rub at your eyes. “He really did some damage…” You admit, appreciating how easy it is for the pair of you to start opening up. This is something you have battled to talk about since the day you witnessed it. “I mean three years of my life I gave to this guy, and he just…” You throw your hand up. “He just throws every bit of it down the drain. There wasn’t even the slightest red flag. I came home. Heard them in the bedroom… Our bedroom. And I just-” You didn’t want to cry, but the tears greet you with the burn of your nose. “I just left. I don’t even know how long it had been going on. All I know is I blocked him on everything and refuse to give him the time of day. Because I can’t bring myself to face him. Or the pain of it all.” Jeongguk listens contently, sorrow filling his umber eyes. “When I saw him at the bar for the first time in a year, the anger that filled me at first, I wanted to do anything to make him feel the same devastation I felt that day. Sure, I slept with his best friend weeks after the breakup, but he doesn’t know that. And, as much as I want to say the revenge was satisfying… It wasn’t.” You tap your fingers on the counter. “Now I’m here. I’m here in this city, living with my rich sister, and working a part time job. It’s like I want to live in my misery… At least, I have my cat.” You smile, Kenai’s sweet face bringing you peace.

“It takes a long time to move on from something like that. What happened to me was nearly two years ago and it still hurts.” Jeongguk says because he knows exactly how that feels. He still succumbed to his ex’s every beck and call until he met you. That’s when everything started changing for him. Why he couldn’t think straight. When his ex was trying to distract him, his mind was filled with you. “I saw the guy she was cheating with once. I planned to confront him, but… chickened out. I knew if I wasn’t careful, I’d do something I’d regret.”

“Who was he?” You ask. Jeongguk raises his shoulders, pursing his lips.

“I don’t know his name. Just that Seokjin was working on a movie, happened to meet the guy and my girlfriend at the time was with him. Jin put two and two together and called me right after. He recognized her in some of the pictures I posted on social media before I deleted it all.”

“He’s an actor, too? The guy she was with?” You wonder.

“I’m assuming.” He speaks. “She never really met Jin before. Or at least, I never told her specifically that he was my stepbrother. That was a part of my life I tried to keep distant, but when he called me concerned, I knew why she was coming home so late. Or, why she didn’t panic if she knew Jin was my brother who was seeing her in the flesh with another dude.” Jeongguk wets his lips. “And that’s when he tried to help me cope by giving me his apartment here when he saw how far gone, I had gotten. And that’s why she learned to do research on who I’m connected to because apparently me and Seokjin know everybody due to his fame and fortune.” He means the fame and fortune as a joke, but you still ponder.

“So…” Your expression confused. “If that’s the case, how do you know Jimin?”

Jeongguk swallows roughly, “I asked you first.”

Now, it’s your turn to gulp. “About that.” The stool screeches from under you as you immediately stand, chugging every last drop of your wine before you clutch your things to your side. The indent Jimin left on your shoulder has faded some, but it still befuddles you knowing Jeongguk could clue in if he wanted to. “I-I have to go.” You really don’t, but the way your entire body is flushing, and your eyes are wide with panic. What else are you supposed to do? Running is what you do best. As if a lightbulb goes off, Jeongguk’s laugh reverberates behind you.

“Wait a minute, have you banged him?” Halt. You choke completely on your own spit; your trachea insults you while you cough up a storm. Goodness gracious. Why this? Why now? “You totally banged him didn’t you!? Holy shit.”

“So, what if I have?” You stifle another cough whirling to face him. “What the hell are you going to do about it?”

That’s when the air between you two immediately silences as if you gave him the challenge of a lifetime. Not even Tetra or Flounder are around to fill in the void. It’s as if you both are back in the elevator where the temptation became so alive, it was hard to ignore. It was irresistible. The only sound is your breathing as it increases after Jeongguk’s wine glass clinks against the counter. There’s a prolonged few seconds before it all becomes thunderous. He makes his way to you as your purse slips from your quivering arm. Your breathing stops. His fingertips press to touch to the skin of your chest as he tickles circles. His eyes flit from your parting lips to the way your eyes start to show you’re imploring for him to not stop. He taunts you. Edging so close to you, his lips are barely on yours when he whispers, “I’m going to make you forget he exists.”

This time, you’re not letting him walk away from you. Not again. Not ever. Your palm finds itself gripping his shirt while you close the gap. The millisecond Jeongguk’s lips connect with yours, it’s electrifying. It’s as if somebody injected fireworks into your veins, shooting across your skin and awakening your senses ten times the normal, exploding across your mind, body, and soul. Your heart pounds so loud, you’re shocked if he doesn’t hear it. You’ve been with three other guys sexually prior to Jeongguk, but something about this is mystifying. Powerful.

His mouth moves with yours as you gasp into his kiss, letting him guide you until the back of your legs recognizes the arm of the sofa. His hand moves to tangle into your hair while you deepen the kiss, the tip of his tongue finding yours as he caresses it simultaneously taking his free hand to slip into the front of your pants, but you’re not ready for him to pleasure you yet. You want to show him what he will miss out on if he doesn’t choose you in the end. But you weaken when his heated lips press slowly and gently along your jawline, the arousal you feel drips, his fingers sliding further to slip past your underwear until he runs his fingertips up and down your heat.

“Oh,” he moans with a slight growl burying his face into your neck from how drenched you already are for him. “Holy fuck,” he hisses, trying to keep himself tame. You love the sound of his fingers sloshing up and down against you. But you want it to be you on him.

Shoving him back to give you some space, his hand flies from your pants and he watches you not expecting you to kneel. And not expecting you to fumble undoing his belt, tugging it out of his belt loops, he hisses in response to the point you see his bulge prominently inside his pants. Oh, the way your mouth waters instinctively at the sight of his erection.

Unbuttoning his pants, you yank them down to his ankles, releasing his erection from his underwear where you hum pleasurably at his girth. Your hands run along his thighs seductively; his eyes darken with lust as you connect with them naughtily. Your palm then slides around his length, stroking him agonizingly slow before you take him into your mouth. Letting his precum welcome your taste buds before you hollow your cheeks, the warm skin of his being ignites your arousal even more. His large hand moves to the top of your head where your strands tangle between his tatted fingers. That’s when you begin, bobbing back and forth as speedily as you can, basking in his moans at how amazing you feel. Your hands cling to the bottom of his jacket while you continue your bliss eventually releasing him from your mouth to push him onto the couch where his back plops upon the cushions.

You push his shirt up to visualize his toned abdomen before dipping down to continue sucking, moving your other hand to massage his scrotum, giving him every bit of pleasure, you can to make him crave you. To make him pine for you. Another trick is up your sleeve when your hand returns to his being, following up and down with your mouth while he tries every way not to cum before he gets the chance to pleasure you more. “Holy fuck,” He groans in satisfaction which makes you continue your fun.

Your tongue laps around his tip before you wipe the spittle at the corners of your lips away. When you’re about to continue, he raises, pulling you to his mouth as he kisses you more, becoming hungrier as he shifts you closer. You can tell your clothes are getting in his way for when he pauses, dazed, his hands start to tug at your pants, eventually freeing you from them as you help kick them off. The air in the apartment is colder than you realize. Goosebumps start flying down your legs as you try to regain your focus on removing the articles of clothing off Jeongguk’s top half. Eventually, all linens are plopped onto the floor and your naked bodies are starting to feel every inch of warm skin, captivating every sense, every cell, every emotion, every lustful bliss.

He pauses and you realize his fingertips have paused at the fading spot on your shoulder. The place where Jimin’s teeth sank in. Holding your breath, you see the guilt in Jeongguk’s eyes as his lips become ajar as if he wishes that it could have been him instead. You aren’t sure how to read what he is thinking, especially when he runs the tip of his thumb over the area. But, in the heat of the moment, his other hand slides to the back of your neck where he slightly grips the strands of your hair stimulating you to bite your lip. He tilts your head just enough to cover the spot with his own mouth, sucking harshly on the skin to place his mark. To regain his status. You’ve never seen something so hot, it’s sending immense tingles all through out your frame. He then sprinkles kisses across your chest eventually trailing to your breasts where his tongue flicks over your nipples and the top of his head tickles your chin. Your whimpers increase while he sucks each nipple tenderly, your fingers indenting his back, and the way your vaginal walls leak onto your vulva- you cannot wait for more of this man. Your eyes sweep his figure. His tattoos covering the entirety of his arm.

Goodness, his body is ethereal, and from the way he takes in the view of you bare, you can tell he feels the exact same about you. Your lips tingle for his. Dragging him to you, he crashes his lips to yours, a new addiction you both know will be hard to break. The way his body presses to yours so passionately, it’s as if you have waited your whole life to feel this good. You can still feel the way his lips bruised you on your shoulder, and you adore the way it lingers.

“My turn!” His fingers deliciously dig into your hips, he slides you closer to him despite the limited room on the sofa, and his eyes absorb how sopping wet you are for him even still. He traces his hands to your thighs when you feel your heat clenching fervently for the desire that is taking over your system. Jeongguk wastes no time swiping a finger, sucking your leakage before his tongue starts lapping up every bit of your taste. What really catches you by surprise is how he continues the fast movements, flattening and pointing his tongue seeing which gesture makes you scream for him more. In between, he sucks your clit, taking one hand to reach for the spot above your clit where he massages nice and slow simultaneously while he feasts. “Oh, Guk,” you sigh with elation. “Oh, Guk, yes! Oh my gosh, yes, holy fuck, ah-”

You hardly can contain yourself with how this man is loving your body. He refuses to stop until you feel the powerful jolt of an orgasm, gratifyingly overwhelming your brain as your thighs squeeze together. Jeongguk already pulled away with pure ecstasy of watching you come undone for him. You are so dizzy; you can’t help the way your feet sink into the couch trying to overcome the sensitivity. When you try to shift, to sit up, Jeongguk hovers close to where he whispers, the smell of you reaching your nose.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he says against your lips, kissing you quickly before carefully lifting his body off you. His hands slide along your arms as he tenderly guides you. Before you can question, he interrupts by kissing you again. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a couple things I want to set up.” As much as you hate to admit it, your heat drips at the way he whispers this to you intensifying the elation. How many times does he plan to make you cum?

The anticipation as to what he’s about to do. What he’s about to show you. Your ears tune into the sounds of the refrigerator opening- his giddy footsteps jogging to the bedroom where you hear the start of running water. Not just a spritz from the shower… the jacuzzi. Holy fuck. When you thought of steamy sex, you never once thought about the jacuzzi. Your hands squeeze into your thighs, the sensitivity between your legs starting to dim. Your heat clenching around nothing as you feel your nipples bud against the chilled air now that his warm body hasn’t been wrapped around yours for a bit. You never really ventured with sex when you were with Hoseok. It was just the typical quickies before and after work depending on the mood with the occasional use of a vibrator. And with Namjoon, it was a drunken blur. With Jimin… It was just spicy vanilla with addictive kisses, but good enough to get the job done and not hesitate for a second round if there ever was to be a second round.

But with Jeongguk. He’s about to give you a night you hope to relive every moment you see him. When he steps into the living room after a few minutes, you had been biting your lip unintentionally, and you feel him kneeling when his tepid hands place on your knees to then gliding up your exposed thighs. He loves teasing you with his lips, talking against them to keep you on your toes. “I’m ready.” He whispers enticingly. You peel your eyes open, him holding your hands while he helps you stand.

When you enter behind him to his bedroom, you notice a golden bowl filled with ice cubes and bubbles from the jacuzzi mingled with steam is shown from where the bathroom door is open. “I didn’t know to buy rose petals and candles-”

“Oh, fuck that!” You gasp, grabbing his face to kiss him again and again. The excitement is so tremendous, his strong arms adhere you to his frame before he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking the skin before placing your back on his bed. Lifting your hands in surrender, he can have you however he wants. However, he needs you. His eyes trail to the ice cubes where he places one in his mouth taking a few long sucks. When you imagined ice play, you never thought you would actually get to experience it.

He then takes the ice and places it on your chest, the cold nips your skin in a pleasurable way and when he slides the cube onto one nipple then to the other, your shaky breaths echo within his bedroom. He then lets the cube glide downwards once your nipples stay budded till he pauses at the beginning of your vulva. “Do you want me, baby?”

“Yes!” You’re breathless, toes curling against the bed sheets, the cold of the frozen water bringing a subtle pain. “Yes, baby, please. I want you.” He lets the ice touch along your slit, causing your hips to rise involuntarily while he rubs it quickly, coating your heat with the chill. Just enough to absorb your taste. As you watch him intensely, he returns the cube to his mouth sucking more until he places it back into the bowl.

Without preparation, his hands, few fingertips cold, wrap around your thighs, shifting you to his starving mouth as he breathes in your scent. “You smell so good, baby.” He growls, his hair tickling your skin before his tongue starts to flick between your folds once more, the chill feel sending vibrations of desire up and down your body while you moan his name even higher than his previous feast. “Oh, Guk! Oh, baby! Holy fuck, you feel so good! Ah!” Your screams encourage him to flick faster, up and down his tongue presses, lapping up your juices while your hands dig into the comforter. Eyes rolling back, one by one, each of his hands reach to rub your nipples, rubbing so fondly while he licks you, making your arousal build even stronger, so intense, you can hardly breathe. His head makes swift movements while he continues to taste you furiously, not taking one moment to breathe himself. You feel another orgasm building, and before you can stop him, your hips buck to the amplifying sensation as the glint of you shines on his chin. He arches an eyebrow proudly as you melt against the comforter- completely and utterly gasping.

But he’s not done with you yet and you don’t want him to be.

He crawls onto the bed to hover above you, interlacing his fingers with yours that happen to untangle from squeezing the comforter. Still holding your hands, he then moves backwards, helping you up to lead you to the bathroom where he shuts the door behind him. Wherever he goes, you will follow. And so far, you are not regretting one bit.

The steam is still rising from the jacuzzi and when he pins you to the tub, he leans over you to press a button, the jets in the jacuzzi awaken and the entire bath is bubbling for you to enjoy. You smell yourself on his mouth, and when he kisses you again, this time it’s so loving. It’s soft. So mesmerizing, you can’t concentrate on anything else as his hands cup your breasts, rubbing your nipples so affectionately that your heat gushes below you as you moan helplessly against his mouth.

“Get in.” He demands and this newfound dominance is going to make you pounce. You tilt your head when you meet his knowing eyes.

“You first, Cigs.” His nose scrunching into the sweetest smile, you dizzyingly watch him step into the jacuzzi, letting the water engulf his frame before you find yourself joining, putting a leg on either side of his hips while you straddle him. His hands massage up and down your back slowly to gripping your ass. How much more stunning can this man be? When he said he was going to make you forget about the past, he wasn’t fucking kidding. And you are very much okay with that.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers suddenly and your heart swells at his words. Not only did he mean it, but you can feel how much he means it. It doesn’t take long for you to bring your lips to his after holding his gaze, eventually moving a hand to find his erection, posing above his length before he enters you causing you to gasp against his kiss before your body starts to move to the rhythm of his hips as he thrusts into you. The water splashes amidst your moans, him hitting your g-spot with every stroke.

Lips still locked to yours, Jeongguk wraps his arms around you before lifting you enough to lay your back against the other end of the jacuzzi. Water covers your body while the jets massage your skin as Jeongguk lingers above you, entering you once more, your arms hug behind his shoulders while he thrusts. His body molds so perfectly with yours, and you never felt so alive. His large hand moves to cradle the back of your head, kissing you so deeply that your head is spinning. You never want this to end. How he moves so beautifully within you. It’s enthralling. He is enthralling.

When he releases into you, the water washes him away, and he sighs into your neck while you two try to catch a breath.

“By the way, it’s Dory.”

Confusion hits you at his sudden, breathless remark. “What?”

“You called me Nemo. It’s supposed to be Dory. She has short term memory loss.”

Shoving him playfully, you splash water at him while giggles echo, him tackling you just to place kisses to your blushing face. You can’t imagine ever losing him at this point. For once, you feel promise even though a promise has never been made.

“You’re smiling.” Monnie says suspiciously as you dazingly exit your room.

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“It certainly is not. It’s about time you appreciate your life here.”

“I do appreciate it here.”

“Finally… Is it the blonde guy?”

Your eyes widen because you completely forgot that your sister has no idea about Jeongguk. “No!” You say quickly. “No, it’s not him.”

“Okay,” Monnie says slowly, placing her hands on her hips. “Well, something is making you act like a teenager, so spill it.”

“I will at some point just… Just not right now.”

Monnie groans in annoyance. “I don’t know what I have to do to get you to talk to me, but at some point, I need to know your life story.”

“But you do know most of it. We’re sisters, Genius.”

“The boring stuff. I want to hear the dirt. I’m nosy.”

“You wouldn’t be my sister if you weren’t.” You tease. “I will tell you everything when I am ready. It’s… a lot… Okay?”

Reluctantly, her arms loosen in defeat as she rolls her eyes, “Fine,” she drones.

To be honest, you hope to confide in LenLen as well. It’s about time you open to the people who you do trust very much. For the time being though, it’s been a few days since you last saw Jeongguk and he has been messaging you nonstop since then. You felt so bruised down there, especially when you both had intercourse the next morning before you left to go to work. Both were naked and finished brushing teeth, and you wrapped your arms around him from behind. Your breasts smooshed to his back. He couldn’t resist you after that. He lifted you up to where your legs linked around his body. The sex started rough once you reached his bed sheets but ended gently driving your mind wild. His touch is like lightning and he nearly cummed back-to-back when he saw a wet spot under you from where you released post orgasm.

You do plan to see him again, and despite the endless thoughts of him, you figure a nice walk around downtown is a good plan. Downtown is super close to the city but has a smaller string of stores. It’s a different scenery, something to keep your mind from cluttering. It’s been a few months. You don’t go as often because that’s where Hoseok would take you on special dates. You figure with his popularity rising from his newly released book, he may not be downtown as often, so you feel it’s safe to tread.

Goodness though, the way Jeongguk’s touch has encapsulated you into another dimension, you can’t stop thinking about him. Or his lips. Or his smile. Or his laugh. Or his tattoos, how beautifully they decorate his skin. The way he holds you… He’s a dream you hope to always have. Hands cuddled into your jacket pockets, the sun shining brightly in the sky, twenty minutes into entering downtown where cars slowly drive by and the ‘open’ signs flash on every window, you decide to enter one of the familiar shops you happened to pass. Life gets even stranger because when you enter what looks to be a beauty boutique, from the colors and setting you recognize it as one you and Hoseok used to frequent way back when.

“She had me come double check inventory. Just make sure we get more of the eye shadow palettes in. At least, that’s what she requested me to say.” Eyebrows scrunching, you have heard this voice before. It’s oddly quiet other than a radio playing, and your eyes trail to an employee nodding and scribbling down whatever was said. Your heart nearly stops when you see none other than Jimin talking to the employee after shifting through what looks to be a pile of mail. You debate running out of the store, but you never got Jimin’s number, and so you make it clear you really didn’t use him even though you kinda did accidentally on purpose, you make the haste decision to let him notice you. He hasn’t done anything wrong.

He spins around after checking over a few things and looks up at you when you clear your throat. The moment his eyes register who he is seeing, his face lights up. “Oh my gosh! Hey there!” Jimin out stretches his arms, pulling you into such a sweet embrace when he reaches you, and you can’t help but let the relief loosen your tense frame. You melt into him.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“How are you?” He pulls away slightly to read your eyes.

“I’m good… I’m sorry I never thought to get your number.”

“No! No, don’t apologize. I should be sorry. I don’t want you to think I’m that kinda guy.”

“Oh God, no.” You chuckle. “You are just fine.”

Jimin presses his lips together in concentration, his thumb rubbing your shoulder. “My sister had me check up on her store which is why I’m here.” He motions to his surroundings. “With the stress of inventory, I could use a drink. Wanna join?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” You say.

When the strong liquid welcomes your tongue soothing your limbs once you swallow, Jimin eyes you as you twirl the liquid in the glass. The restaurant is nice and dimly lit and you are very thankful that you ran into him when you did. It makes you feel better about what happened between you two.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You say after a minute. Not that you ever cared to ask. “I didn’t know she owned a store.”

Jimin smiles, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, she’s a pain in my ass but I love her.”

“I relate on so many levels.” You chuckle, knowing Monnie would give you a look that could kill with an arched eyebrow in tow.

“Is… everything okay between us?” Jimin is curiously watching you, his expression still concerned about everything. At this point, you both have swapped numbers, promising to keep in touch. With how much your heart pines for Jeongguk, you know you won’t give in to anyone else.

“Of course, it is.” You promise. “I really mean it when I say I enjoyed your company. I just have a lot going on.”

“I understand.” He says meaningfully. “Want to talk about it?”

Considering your answer, you swallow briefly. “My ex… of three years cheated on me. Moved here a year ago.” You continue explaining how you ended up with your sister and how you were heartbroken about being stood up at the bar and how you ran into your ex and his best friend at the bar as well. All in one night. Adding that you are glad Jimin was equally attracted to you and how the distraction really helped overall.

“Holy shit, you slept with his best friend!? You are bad ass!”

“Oh God, I’m far from it.”

“Dude, no, that’s the best way to get back at a cheater. I’m telling you. Oh, and um,” Jimin leans closer to you with a confident look, his thick lips poised in a mischievous grin, “I don’t mind you using me for whatever you want. I’m honored I got to be your first after a year of abstinence.”

You giggle, smacking his shoulder playfully. “To be honest, I’m glad it was you too. You are so sweet. I mean it. If anything, I hope we can be friends.” You reach to squeeze his hand, him running his thumb across your knuckles.

“Agreed.”

“How long ago did you and your sister move here?” You wonder aloud. “I remember you said you had been here for a long while.”

“About two years, but I am roommates with Taehyung for now. He’s pretty head over heels for his girlfriend so I’ll probably be living on my own soon.”

“That’s not bad at all,” you encourage.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure I’ll love the space, but it gets lonely sometimes… My sister lives with her current boyfriend. I’m not the biggest fan, but he’s a successful novelist. Came out with a book literally like last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch. What? “He’s… an author?”

“Yeah… I mean he’s a good writer don’t get me wrong, but her last boyfriend… She was with him forever and she did him so dirty. I felt bad for the kid.”

“Wait a minute…” Your head is spinning. This can’t be real. Calm down, y/n, it’s all just a coincidence. You are freaking out over nothing. “Wh-who was her ex-boyfriend if you don’t mind me asking?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but his phone, that has been laying right side up on the table starts to vibrate, a picture of a smiling woman shows. “Oh, that’s my sister.” He says, “Probably calling to make sure I took care of inventory. I should take this.”

“I- I have to go anyway,” you pretend to check your wrist when really stars are showing in your eyes, because that picture. Your mouth goes immediately dry. The shirt. The way her breasts are rounded beneath that shirt. Hoseok’s shirt. The shirt that went missing. The girl in the picture… she was wearing it. She was fucking wearing it.

“Hey, Min-a.” Jimin greets into the phone, waving goodbye to you, mouthing that he will text you as you dart away. Bile rises to your esophagus burning in its wake as you rush outside to the nearest trash can. Holy shit. You can’t breathe and you gasp between heaves. Everything is crashing down as you make the connection. It’s all coming together.

You never saw her face, but you saw her torso decorated with nice breasts and Hoseok’s shirt. Jeongguk mentioned that he was cheated on too and that she was with her new boyfriend who was going over a script with an actor… His stepbrother who is none other than Kim Seokjin. Hoseok has been writing for an actor who happens to be Kim Seokjin. Jimin personally knows Kim Seokjin. Hoseok is now out with a novel. She, Jimin’s sister, owns a store downtown, a store that happens to be one that you and Hoseok used to frequent because you loved their products, but when you left him, you never went back to that specific store. Meaning… he met her there. While you two were still together. But most of all, you remember how tense Jeongguk got at the mention of Jimin… Because Jeongguk knows Jimin. And then there was the confrontation Jeongguk almost had with the guy his ex-girlfriend cheated on him with who you can’t seem to comprehend it to be:

Hoseok.

This can’t be real. No, no this can’t be fucking real. You plead to the universe, wiping your lips with your sleeve as you try to keep the next bout of nausea suppressed.

Jeongguk dated Jimin’s sister who is now with Hoseok. The girl who he cheated on you with. You heard Jimin say her name. You can hardly collect your thoughts to think her name.

Min-a.

When the nausea starts to dull just for you to regain your composure. You run. You run home and you don’t stop until you burst through the door. Monnie and Yoongi are frantic when they see you, collapsing to the floor to catch your breath while tears stream down your face, sobbing as the pain shoots through your heart. Now, you have your answer. Nobody had to tell you. You accidentally stumbled upon it yourself. At this point, seeing the devastation pouring down your face, Monnie doesn’t give you a choice, she demands the truth. As Kenai rushes to sway his furry body against your legs to calm you, you confess and tell your sister and her boyfriend everything. From beginning to end- everything.

Finally, you let every emotion out, every secret released.

“So, you are saying that not only did you sleep with your ex’s best friend, Namjoon. You also hooked up with your ex’s new girl’s brother and her ex-boyfriend, too!?” Monnie connecting the dots while Yoongi’s mouth drops open in alarm. “Holy cannoli, if this isn’t the best revenge story ever!”

“I wasn’t looking for revenge!” You spew.

“Not with Jimin and Jeongguk you weren’t, but you have to admit, Namjoon was definitely revenge.”

“Well Namjoon, yes.” You agree with swollen eyes. “But the rest? I had absolutely no idea they were connected.” Your palm is plastered to your forehead, and though Jeongguk has messaged you and called twice, you’ve ignored everything. You don’t know how to approach the subject. Is his ex, Min-a, who is Hoseok’s girlfriend that he left you for, is she the reason Jeongguk kept walking away from you? Why he struggled at first giving into you? Have her and Hoseok been having problems? “No wonder why Hoseok was so… shocked.” You murmur. “I thought it was because I was kissing another guy in general, but it was his girlfriend’s brother.”

“Wowza.” Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t comprehend it. What a small world.”

“Now it all makes sense. They all know each other.” You speak. “That’s why they’re all connected. Holy shit.”

“I definitely know Kim Seokjin. Not personally, but we’ve seen a few of his movies.” Yoongi says crossing his arms, gesturing his elbow in Monnie’s direction.

“Oh yeah, how can we not know Kim Seok-” Monnie notices Yoongi eyeballing her playfully with a quirked eyebrow and she clears her throat. “I agree. They all know each other. Jimin and Taehyung are best friends who know Kim Seokjin because he is best friends with Taehyung. Kim Seokjin also knows Jeongguk because they happen to be stepbrothers and Kim Seokjin knows Hoseok because of the movie script and novel Hoseok wrote. Also,” Monnie takes in a deep, dramatic breath. “Hoseok knows Jeongguk because Hoseok stole his girlfriend at the time, and Jeongguk knows Jimin because he dated Jimin’s sister. Am I forgetting anyone?”

“My head hurts.” You groan.

“Ah, Namjoon! He is best friends with Hoseok and since he was in the same vicinity as everyone I have mentioned, he must know everyone. I’m sure he is familiar with Jeongguk because Hoseok probably told him.”

“You’re good at this.” You blurt. “Maybe you should be a writer.”

“I’ve dabbled a time or two.” She grins, holding a finger in the air. “And that concludes your shit show of a love life.”

“Thanks.” You roll your eyes. Yet, you couldn’t concur more.

When conversation finishes with your sister and her boyfriend, you feed Kenai and give him squishy hugs and kisses while he pelts his tail at you in annoyance. You don’t care how much he prefers his food over you sometimes, you want to give him kissies and he shall accept them. There is somewhere you want to be. Need to be. You just hope he will be there.

Ordering a driver after freshening up and putting on a light amount of makeup, you throw on some tennis shoes and make your way outside. Previously you were always uncertain of the destination you were going to go. But this time, you know exactly where you are going. He will always be who you run to. Jeongguk. You haven’t stopped thinking about him since the day you met him. It has all gone by so fast, yet there is plenty of time to become more than just a thought every other second. But, neither of you can proceed until the truth is told.

The drive feels tantalizingly slow as your leg bounces profusely in the backseat until you arrive at the bookstore. You swish some mouth wash from the mini bottle in your purse as you rush to the elevator after tipping the driver, spitting it into a bush before elbowing the elevator button. Your temples beat to your increasing heart rate. Swallowing the lump forming in your throat, you recount everything. It’s time to lay it all out. No matter how risky.

Customers standing by on the third floor watch you zip past, and you try to follow your memory to Jeongguk’s door and when your feet stop before it, you inhale and exhale deeply to calm your nerves. You knock, letting your hope rise because you cannot wait to see him despite the words that haven’t been said. You hear running footsteps- and when the door opens, your breath hitches at his indescribable beauty. You see the way relief falls with his shoulders as he springs forward to hug you- pulling you into his home while the door automatically shuts behind you.

You take the time to hold him, bundling your nose into his warm chest while his hand moves to soothe into your hair. “Hey,” he whispers, placing a kiss to the top of your head. “Where have you been? I’ve been super worried.”

“I know,” you murmur, squeezing him tighter. “I know. I’m sorry… Something happened.” You hear the rustle of paws running around the living room and you can’t help but smile at the reminder of the cats. Instantly your smile falls, however, because you know a serious conversation is going to take place. Shifting to step back, so you can see the entirety of his face, he tries to read your expression. He can tell something is wrong.

“I know how you know Jimin.” You can’t help it when tears brim, especially when you see Jeongguk’s body tense. As if he is trying to protect himself from unwanted memories. From heartbreak. He remains silent. “Min-a.” Your voice is hoarse when you say her name. Jeongguk’s hands move to slide into his hair while he sucks in his lips, squeezing his eyes shut the second he registers who you just named. There’s pain in his demeanor. Pain, you know all too well. “She’s who my ex-boyfriend left me for… Hoseok.”

Disbelief, the common reaction, is all over his expression while his lips part as if to speak, but he doesn’t. “Hoseok’s not an actor…” You murmur. “He’s a writer… He knows your stepbrother because he wrote a story he wants filmed with Seokjin as the lead.” You wet your lips. “I met Jimin the day I met you. And yes… I hooked up with him the night the bar opened, but I was so emotionally distraught, I needed something. Anything to distract me because I saw Hoseok there. And his best friend. And… I was devastated that you didn’t show up.” Your fingers touch to your lips as you try to keep your composure. “I had no idea who she was until today.” You admit. “Absolutely no idea.”

“I-” Jeongguk struggles to find the words, but he steps closer to you. “I think it will take time for the shock to settle, but…” He swallows. “I never meant to hurt you that night I didn’t show up.” You feel your tears panging hot trails onto your cheeks, Jeongguk moving to cup your face to swipe the tears away with his thumbs. “I was still battling with whether I should start over with Min-a. She kept trying to reach out to see me again, and I fell for it a few times, but the second I met you.” His forehead touches to yours while you take in his warmth. “The second I met you, there was no one else I could think about. Not even her. In a fucked-up sense, I wanted closure, too. I thought…” He pauses, pulling away slightly to look into your eyes. “I thought if I gave her a chance to explain, maybe that would be enough for me to move on, but… she never showed up each time she reached out. I knew I made a huge mistake what I did to you and when you were all I continued to think about I knew… I knew it was you I ultimately wanted to be with. I’m so sorry I broke your trust. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“No-!” You croak. “No, it’s okay. It’s really okay.” You plea through the tears. His eyes well with them too while you both try to get through this pain. Together. “You were hurting, too. We were hurt by the same people. It’s all so unbelievable, I can hardly understand it.”

“Well, if I haven’t learned anything at all, it’s that karma’s a bitch.” Jeongguk forces a chuckle, brushing a slow, warm kiss to your lips. “I won’t let him hurt you anymore.” You feel the tenderness in his caress. His promise. This time clothes make a trail on the floor to his bedroom where your bodies cling together while love is made through the night. In the end, you hope he is the man that will mend your heart the way you hope to mend his.

No more goodbyes, Cigs.

No more goodbyes.

And that will be your promise.

Seven months later…

“Breathe, y/n.” Jeon Jeongguk reminds you as you take in a prolonged, shaky breath. The buzzing of the needle starts to reach your skin while his gloved hands gently touch your limb. “I promise you it’s not that bad. Do you see my arm?”

“I know, Babe. But I have never done this before. Cut me some slack here.” You whine. Closing your eyes, a prick of pain starts to tingle against your skin from the sharp darts of pinches leaving traces of black ink in its wake.

“Good.” Jeongguk encourages. “See, I told you. It’s not that bad-”

He notices you wince when he gets to a different area of your wrist where he is permanently inking your ‘delicate skin’ as you have been referring. You knew you always wanted a tattoo, but it took your forever to figure out what to get. When the idea came to get an ink print of one of Kenai’s paws, you jumped to it. Jeongguk, of course, pretending to be jealous, made it clear that he better be the one who tattoos you. The shop is closed for the day, but Jeongguk being one of the main artists, he’s allowed to do tattoos on his own time, so it is just the two of you in the facility.

You are astonished at how quickly it goes by. The needle stings, but the pain is durable. It definitely is not as bad as you anticipated. It only takes Jeongguk 45 minutes to complete Kenai’s pawprint on the underside of your wrist. “Alright, take a look and tell me what you think and then I’ll apply the wrap.” He sets the needle onto the metal table next to the chair you have been sitting in, and he takes off his gloves.

The skin is red, with small dots of blood as you expected from where the needle etched the ink, but you are blown away by how brilliantly Jeongguk did with your first ever tattoo. “It’s… It’s perfect.” Your voice breaks from the tears brimming. “I love it.” You smile wide.

He chuckles, elated by your response. “I love you.” Preparing the sticky wrap, he carefully places it, afterwards pressing a kiss to your lips. “You did it.” His smile lights up your entire world as he proudly kisses you again.

“Only because of you. I wouldn’t have survived with anybody else.”

“Yes, you would have. It’s not that bad. I told you!” Jeongguk teases, waving his tatted arm in your line of vision while he points at it with his free hand.

“Fine,” you drone. “I would prefer that it be you because it’s more special. Kenai is the love of my life aside from you.” Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow. “What? He loves you, too!”

“Are you sure about that because he’s really gotten Flounder wrapped around his toe bean.”

“He’s got you, too.” You wink.

You moved in with Jeongguk a few weeks ago, adapting to the new life. So far, it’s gone rather well. He may not throw his clothes in the laundry basket, but at least he knows how to make up for it later. Wink wink. You inwardly giggle. Though LenLen was sad to see you leave, not only did Jeongguk get you a job at the bookstore, but you are the store manager which is nice because on breaks, you can just chill at home.

Home being with Jeongguk, Kenai, Flounder and Tetra. The crazy cat couple. Nothing gets better than that.

Jeongguk on the other hand has returned to tattooing. Something he is so talented at that its mind blowing. You are so grateful for how strong of a bond you two have formed since the first day you met. As far as Hoseok, him and Min-a have broken up by the whispers on the street, but you have found a way to forgive him. Especially when he reached out to apologize for how he wronged you and how none of it was your fault. How he should have known Min-a never truly wanted him, and that you are the sole reason his novel became a hit. The day he met you at the park. How you inspired it. You aren’t sure if he knows about Namjoon still, but you are glad he didn’t mention it if he does. You figure he’d tear the book to shreds at that point, but you thanked him for his apology and that you are happy with someone else. Very happy.

Jimin is a friend of you and Jeongguk to this day, but he does not speak about his sister in either presence considering her name is still an open wound. You and Jeongguk are still working on the forgiveness for her, too.

“It’s so amazing.” You awe about your tattoo once more. Jeongguk reaches to hold your other hand. “You’re so talented.”

He shrugs. “It’s a passion… Thank you for trusting me.”

Your lips pull into a gentle smile. “Always and forever.”

Leaning forward, you kiss him again and again and again and again. You love that you can trust that there will not be a goodbye from this glorious human being before you. He will always be your hello the second you wake up, the second you come home and every moment in between. “I love you,” he whispers breathless between kisses and if there weren’t cameras installed for security, you two would be making love right here in this seat.

“I love you too, Cigs.” You whisper against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

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taegularities · 11 months

Text

colour me in: blurred | jjk (m)

Summary: Funny how things never stay the way they were. You navigate through a life without Jungkook while wading through buried memories – and realise that every path leads back to him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating, partly college!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: artist jkkkkk, still a birthday, a present, exhibition and artwork reveal!!, memories, flashbacks, talk about exes, talk about guilt, ...frat party reveal i mean whut, jung hoseok lol, flirting, sexual tension, “how i, jk, met your mother” lmao i’m kidding, alcohol, insecurities, mean people, an absolute mess, yearning, we love tae, deep convos, overthinking; explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, grinding, stripping, fondling, tiddie sucking, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, they’re dorks ??, lmao the dialogues :’’), they play a game, protected sex, drunk (consensual) sex, dirty talk, biting, sl*t mention, teasing, jk moaninnnng, partly rough sex, big dick jk, dom jk, aftercare, weird ass bets lol, i was blushing real hard writing the smut; “the ending” warning has become a constant too so :’) ➳ word count: 31.7k 🥲 ➳ a/n: what a big damn sigh i left out after finishing this one !! ugh, guys, thank you so much for sticking with me and waiting for this one. i truly hope it’s worth the wait… and their story shall only get better. thank you for betaing my love @missgeniality <3 as always, do lemme know what you guys think !! 🎨🤍 ➳ a/n2: keep in mind that every past tense scene is a flashback !! 😁 ➳ listen to: the only exception by paramore | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

The very first day of September begins with a letter between your fingertips.

Or, perhaps not quite a letter — more a memory.

The pages of the diary aren’t older than two years, but they feel ancient when you skim them. A little dirty.

Maybe because the remembrances feel eons away, beginning in the middle of the second last year of college and ending sometime this spring. Mere months ago when cherry blossoms bloomed, along with a dozen other emotions.

You didn’t need to remember those days anymore, because you were gradually losing yourself in something and someone else. Not in love, not infatuated. Just distracted.

That is, until distraction became warmth.

Somewhere in the middle of this diary, you find words of a lost night. You don’t think of it too often; for a while, you felt too embarrassed and timid to reminisce.

Today, you can’t scan the memory, because it hurts.

This very entry is the worst of them all.

Contains all those damn hours in the gentle drizzle, followed by absolute heat, finishing off with glimmering lights in the sky and cold surfaces beneath you.

You don’t know all of it anymore.

But you know who tip-toed around you that night.

The frat party was never quite a frat party at all.

More a private thing hosted by some popular frat boy. It didn’t make much of a difference — half the campus was there, and the vibes were as fraternity as they could get.

You didn’t spend tonight under your fake starry ceiling as you usually would. This time, you sought an escape.

Honestly, everything was a get away these days, because you preferred running from reality rather than facing it; yet, you never quite landed where you wanted to be.

The hot party air was suffocating at first.

Cheap booze spilled into standard red cups, screeches accompanying the music. Despite the mind-numbing ambiance, you thought that’s where you belonged tonight.

With Eun’s concerned eyes on you round the clock, you kept the smile firmly plastered to your face. At times, you’d squint your eyes shut when the lack of lights tired you too much, but the unwavering noises kept you awake.

It was supposed to be a night you wouldn’t just flee your daily responsibilities and studies you weren’t sure you wanted, but from something else, too.

Someone else.

And that someone had dodged tonight’s party because of you. He hadn’t admitted it explicitly, but you knew he wasn’t one to miss such an event. And in some sense, you were relieved.

It was selfish of you. You felt awful, because he’d never proven to be anything but kind to you. But his absence forced at least an attempt to enjoy tonight. Knowing not too many faces around felt nice.

You weren’t particularly familiar with the frat boy community; you knew barely a handful of names in general. Like Eun’s. Jimin was supposed to be somewhere, too, because he told you he’d come. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

Then, there was this Choi Yeonjun dude; the host. Very young, but already known around college. Also, senior year hottie Cha Eunwoo.

And ah.

There was another guy you could match a name to.

Anyone who hadn’t heard of him before probably didn’t do much else other than head straight to class and then straight back home.

But you’d seen him in serene libraries before, hiding behind thick art books. And in departments that he had nothing to do with in order to meet his friends; to converse with girls.

You remember that he hadn’t been as popular or noticeable a couple months ago — he shot up like fireworks.

And right now…

He was leaning against the white wall on the other side of the room. Calm and collected, confidently talking to some girl; letting her brush his cheek; closing his eyes with crinkles around them and a tilted smile.

As she reached up to his temples, her intentions seemed genuine. The smile she flashed and the way she spoke — perhaps she was still sober, locked in the illusion that she could actually capture whatever beat behind his chest.

You didn’t want to seem judgemental — but you knew the reputation he fostered.

And even now, he seemed to be enjoying this. Like a puppy being spoiled.

You would’ve watched a bit longer to find out how things would play out. It was an interesting scene; so transparent and clear. These two seemed to strive towards the same goal; it was written all over their faces.

But then, the sound of absolute crap infiltrated your ears; all of a sudden, shaking your world view.

“Hey!” you reflexively shouted.

The self-proclaimed DJ had spoken into the mic prior — apparently, he was replacing the originally invited song mixer. And he didn’t notice you until you waved.

You’d probably seen him before, but you couldn’t really name him.

Full pink lips, a full dark mane.

He grabbed the mic with long fingers — where had they gotten a mic from anyway? — and holy, his voice was deep. A little unfitting to his gentle, handsome features.

But god, was his choice terrible.

You lifted your hand a little higher, and he pointed at you, ready to speak some DJ-esque motivational words to you before you yelled, “Go back to the good stuff!”

A couple nods around you affirmed your suggestion, but the guy only granted you one slapdash shrug before he went back to vibing to atrocities. The people who had murmured approval a moment ago resumed to whatever they were doing with a sigh or a headshake.

But there was one voice who didn’t quiet back down — its rise in volume was stark and clear, and your eyes immediately ripped open when you heard Jungkook howl, “Tae, I told you to not play shit!”

When you looked at him, he was cupping his mouth. The girl next to him giggled, but one of Jungkook’s eyebrows was cocked, hands raised as if to say, “Am I always just talking to a wall?”

He disregarded the girl’s laughter and shot you a stare instead; matched the light smile you didn’t know had crept upon your face; raised one shoulder in what you assumed was an apology.

Amused, you lifted the corners of your lips a little further. The warning hadn’t moved Tae at all, but the scene had been, admittedly, fun to initiate and witness. Even though it lasted a mere thirty seconds.

Because a moment later, the girl caught Jungkook’s attention again; her finger moved his head by his chin, her face closer to his — you took a few steps back and walked away.

This wasn’t your territory; you were an uninvited observer who happened to temporarily catch the target’s attention. And the target was in the wild, in a beloved habitat, so all you could do was leave him basking in his joys.

There had to be an activity you could dote on, or a familiar face you could approach. Eun had left with an excuse you hadn’t heard, and now, she was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t take long for you to realise that your search for her would remain fruitless.

And just when you were cottoning to the idea of roaming the party alone, an unexpected form materialised next to you. Like a hallucination, sneakily.

His hand coolly sat inside his jeans pocket; yours lamely stuffing snacks into your mouth — the dichotomy was all too present. Your big eyes ogled at a friendly smile and a tiny nod. You covered your mouth, looking a little longer, and then dropped your gaze again.

Jeon Jungkook was probably just fetching a drink for his gorgeous date. You wouldn’t have to grant him much attention.

But when a minute passed and he still lingered around, possibly unable to choose a delicacy, you looked at him again — as if on cue, just the moment he opened his mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry for the music.”

He shook his hair to the side, leaning in with a radiant smile; you didn’t know why he felt guilty enough to approach you for such a thing, but you were ready to forgive him anyway. Admittedly, it was hard to deny his charms.

Your pupils moved in confusion; with raised shoulders and a cocked eyebrow, you asked, “Why are you sorry?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook started, a thumb pointing behind him without breaking eye contact, “he’s my best friend.”

You’d forget Taehyung’s name the next morning again; the apology wasn’t necessary and you bet he knew. But your mouth still formed an ‘Ah’, head nodding just a little as you confirmed, “Well. That is a reason to apologise, I guess.”

Registering another nod and light chuckle, you averted your eyes politely and shifted them to the table.

You filled your palm with trail mix before your stare drifted across the room — Eun was still not in your periphery, but you guessed she’d find you soon enough.

Perhaps she was testing you. Getting you out of the shell you’d retorted into in the past days, fearing everything and nothing at once.

Tonight was the first breath of air you got; something about all happenings this summer suffocated you.

The man next to you, albeit still a stranger, seemed to want to provide further distraction.

Because when you whipped your head back into his direction, you found him munching on snacks — still here, smiling at you once more. Was he waiting for something?

“So,” you started; the moment you spoke, big eyes focused on you curiously. Wow. “Where did you leave your girl?”

His face fell. Not in the melancholic way, but you thought you still found insecurity and something not too pleasant in it. He puffed out air, looking over his shoulder and then back to you.

“Should still be where you saw us last. But the room got smaller by the minute,” he said. You understood — even a rich frat boy’s house fills up at some point. “And I’m not in the mood to go back.”

“Oh. Why?”

“She was uhm… saying things I didn’t agree with.”

“Like what?”

You bit your tongue the moment he laughed. Playfully, as though he knew you inside out, he nudged your shoulder, teasing, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You blinked slowly. “Nothing, really. You wouldn’t care about it.”

He was probably right.

So you digressed.

Hummed, though you were sure he couldn’t hear it; even in this big ass kitchen, the sound of the music reverberated.

You shuffled your feet a little, ready to move on and find your friend. Maybe learn a thing or two about her pals to integrate yourself. You still couldn’t quite say how a law student like Eun knew so many people at all.

Extroverts have it easy.

You reached to the back pocket of your jeans, fishing out your phone and unlocking the screen to give her a call.

Jungkook, still unmoving, had to be peeking, because he exclaimed an excited vocal, questioning, “What was that?”

A tattooed, lean finger pointed to your device, and you looked down, voicing a timid, “…My phone?”

“No,” he shook his head, suddenly shy for snooping. “Uhm. Your wallpaper.”

“Oh,” you looked down, eyes frozen on the dimming screen before they landed back on him. “Well, just… the night sky with some lyrics. Very basic stuff.”

“What lyrics?”

He seemed genuinely curious. It was sweet — but judging from how he’d left another girl in the other room just a moment ago, you couldn’t quite figure out what his intentions were.

So you pulled up your guard just a little, straightening your stance and covering your mind in some ice to cool it down.

And then, you answered, “You wouldn’t know them.”

But he shrugged, tilting his head, and challenged, “Try me.”

For a moment, you stared.

Then, you cleared your throat, exhaling a breath and lit up your phone again. As you held it into his face for him to read, you saw the sparkle in his eyes for the very first time — the beam of your phone allowed it for just a second as he read.

“You and I were bright, shooting through the sky daily.”

And then, he started nodding, sporting an impressed expression. His body movements were open — eager to engage in conversation, sincerity clear.

He simply said, “Good one.”

To which you squinted your eyes, stuffing your phone back. What did you take it out for again? Didn’t matter — it was locked again.

“Do you really know it or are you just acting like you do?” you asked.

Jungkook’s sudden laugh took you off guard — he wasn’t irritated but amused. His snicker was accompanied by tiny dimples and wrinkles around his huge eyes; the sound was lovely and pure.

And you nearly expected a delightful compliment before he clicked his tongue and said, “Damn. Stuck up, aren’t we?”

Well, fuck.

The way he eyed you, still enjoying your company with those rude words of his — was he the distraction you needed tonight?

He was amusing.

“Damn,” you said back.

“I do know The Neighbourhood,” he argued. He sounded calmer again; his voice dropped deeper. “I may look stupid, but I’m not.”

Internally, it made you laugh. Externally, you kept yourself at bay.

He didn’t look stupid at all, and his humour was on point. You bet that’s how he wrapped all the girls around his inked fingers.

Literally.

“I mean,” you said, unintentionally moving closer to him when someone approached the table. He smelled like soap and lotion. Looked at the vanishing distance in surprise. You moved to the side. “One doesn’t need to be stupid or smart to know a song.”

And suddenly, he chuckled again.

“What?” you asked.

“Goddamnit.”

“...What?”

“Nothing, just. You’re funny. Witty.”

You couldn’t say why he found it funny, but you felt charmed. Ugh… no. That’s how things started, you were sure.

So you were quick to state, “And you’re not my ty—”

Which was a blatant lie.

Jeon Jungkook was everybody’s type. A wandering deity with a Greek God’s body and a face carved in heaven. Splendid rizz game.

“I’m not hitting on you,” he quickly interrupted, right at your tail when you approached the door, “spare me the I have a boyfriend talk.”

You knew where this was going — you weren’t stupid either. Those subtle statements demanded a response, and idiotic enough and two red cups down, you said, “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What?”

“What what?”

“No, like,” he started. As you halted in your steps, right next to the couch and looking at him, he took a seat on the couch’s arm. “I fully expected you to give me the boyfriend lecture.”

You took a deep breath. No matter where you went, this… reality followed you.

Half frustrated, half tired of it, you shook your head again, looking into the depths of the cup you’d grabbed, and said, “I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Right.”

“Not quite at least.”

You kept adding things. Why?

The stored up misery escaped so easily now — but why with him?

He stared at you with actual attention in his eyes; God, he could feign it well. Even worse when he spoke and you heard the interest in his mild voice, “Quite?”

“I just do not, okay?”

The words didn’t come out rude. Hastily maybe, but not vexed.

But Jungkook’s expressions still changed. The curiosity from before faded bit by bit; realisation dawned on him that you were here for something else tonight and not… whatever you were fleeing from.

Maybe, you thought, he’d been sincere before. Actually socialising and expanding your casual exchanges.

But now that you’d closed the topic once and for all, he dropped the puppy gaze and transformed back into what you thought he was. A beloved presence on campus, always relaxed and always popular.

You saw his peer change in slow motion — baffled when he opened the path to his cocky self again.

And confident and with the tiniest of winks, he said, “Cool. So then… not to hit on you, but,” he lifted a hand, big and masculine, “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

Jeon Jungkook and the liquor made the house look and feel twice its size.

After wandering around for over half an hour, you thought the hallways and rooms were expanding exponentially — until you passed the same plant you’d definitely seen a while ago. Some by now familiar faces were still roaming around the same place.

But the conversations you began kept shifting; time became relative. Subtle teases and little laughs kept you busy.

“By the way,” you asked. The lights were starting to burn into your eyes. Too neon and painful. “Are you gonna follow me all night?”

Jungkook tsk-ed, comical sass in his expression as he clarified, “I’m not following you, I’m literally walking next to you.” He tilted his head once, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “So rude.”

“Sorry.”

“Besides, you’re not necessarily doing what you were supposed to, either.”

Tired eyes blinked at him, an eyebrow cocking. For a moment, you found yourself lost, but the realisation that you were going to look for Eun dawned on you a mere second later.

In all honesty, you had walked past by her once.

She’d raised both eyebrows when she’d detected him, wearing a mirthful look, and you nodded as a fleeting greeting, but let him blabber on. Kept walking.

You didn’t tell him any of this, though.

“Yeah, well,” you crafted a careful excuse, vaguely gesturing across the badly lit, crowded living room, “easy to get lost here.”

He squinted, eyes flitting across the chattering bodies. You barely heard the hum, but you saw the shrug as he asked, “Is it really?”

“I mean… It might be easier for you since you know almost everyone here.”

“That’s not true.”

“Really?”

Another shrug; softer this time. Blooming lips curved into a pretty smile, and he nodded towards you. Let his eyes scan you head to toe before he finally said, “I don’t know you.”

Hm… True.

Seemed like he didn’t want to keep it that way.

You nodded with tightly pressed lips, averting your gaze and shifting it to the back of the room, out to the backyard. It was one of those semi-rich houses with French windows; you could see the cleanly cut grass and part of the treehouse from here.

“Anything you’d like to know, then?” you finally asked.

“Keep going.”

Jungkook gestured to the staircase in the hallway. You looked around; you guess you’d been blocking the entryway to it. Partygoers gave you a weird look.

You stirred, clearing the traffic jam, and navigated towards the staircase. Jungkook, hot on your trail, answered, “Uhm. Yeah, actually — be honest. Do you know The Neighbourhood from social media? TikTok and shit?”

“God, no,” you immediately defended, secretly outraged, “I’ve known and supported them since high school.”

“Oh.” Now that you were steering towards the first floor and away from the music, you could gradually register his words clearer. “Okay. What else?”

“What else? Like what other music? Uhm… Avatar: The Last Airbender soundtrack.”

He rolled his eyes, rocking a little as you approached the end of the staircase. People floated by you quickly, roaming the entire place.

“Come on,” he replied.

“What? It legitimately counts!”

You still felt the vibrations of the beat. It wasn’t so bad from here; kind of pleasant, fitting the rhythm of your conversation.

Or his laugh when he puffed out air, leading you down the hallway; a couple steps from here, you detected a small balcony. But as you neared the exit, you found it busy; two friends drinking, chatting the night away.

Jungkook halted, pressing against the wall with a glimpse to the ground. He rubbed his eyes; you understood. The hallway was lit a million times better than any room downstairs. Balm for your eyes.

“Alright,” he asked, looking up to you with an inhale, “another trivial question as we wait,” he tilted his head towards the door. “What’s a superpower you’d choose?”

You contemplated on suggesting a walk outside the house, but you knew why he’d possibly led you here — it was quieter. The crowd not as tense.

So instead of muttering the question, you relaxed your spinning head; your heavy eyelids fell a little as you said, “Oh, uh… let me think.” You swallowed, drifting your gaze to the ceiling; and eventually, you challenged, “Tell me yours first. And make it as useless as you can.”

For some odd reason, you were eager to hear his question.

You found yourself wondering about him and his little habits a lot.

Jungkook took a moment to ponder, and then declared with a miniscule hint of sarcasm, “Ah. Never spilling my drink. Knowing every dance move to every song.”

Maybe the alcohol was truly showing its effect, because you burst into simultaneous laughter that forced the strangers’ eyes upon you. From the balcony, they looked at you, chuckling just a little before they turned back.

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand, hearing him ask, “Alright, your turn. What’s your superpower choice? Uselessness is the key.”

“Okay, easy,” you said, shifting up the wall you’d slid down a bit, “I’d choose the superpower of persuasion. Would use it for the greater good, like––”

“That’s not a useless power—”

“––To convince everyone that The Last Airbender soundtrack deserved more recognition.”

“Okay. Way to make it as useless as possible.”

“Soundtrack of the century.”

“Okay. Sure, why not?”

Short pause, but never awkward.

In truth, you found a moment of respite from the chaos underneath your feet. The wall you leaned against was cold against your bare arms and calves, and for the first time tonight, you thought you could think.

Nevermind your foggy brain, and the way his company made reality blur.

You were enjoying yourself.

That is, until Jungkook spoke up again.

“Okay… one more thing, and you can fully tell me to fuck off if you don’t wanna tell.”

You turned to face him, eyes filled with intrigue, mustering a sole, “Hm?”

“You’re… escaping something tonight. Aren’t you?” He took a deep breath, words dangling between you. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, brief surprise flickering in them. “Do you want to vent?”

His probing was delicate, not overly curious. He was being careful, ready for rejection, and you appreciated it, no matter how caught off guard by his perceptive observation.

“What?” you still voiced.

“I don’t think that’s your type of environment, right? Nothing seems to catch your attention for long enough.” He paused again, meeting your gaze intently. He tumbled to the other side, pressing his back against the wall. “Except me. You’re still talking to me.”

There it was — you were sure it was.

That fleeting moment of vulnerability that passed over your face. Not just due to the circumstances but to everything that they evoked, too.

Jungkook wasn’t wrong, and his keen understanding of your inner life surprised you.

Slowly, you let out a soft laugh, just a little fragile as you admitted, “You’re right. I’m escaping the responsibilities of adult life and the upcoming doom of my last college year.”

Yeah… but beneath the surface, there was more.

You didn’t know whether he saw it; you knew you weren’t too drunk yet to decode expressions.

But he only nodded, offering a gentle smile. Told you, “Sometimes that shit does weigh us down. But isn’t it worth it? Don’t you like college?”

“I do like college,” you argued, “I just don’t like the thought of finishing it. Because then you’re deep in that… life thing. You probably understand, don’t you?”

“Yeah, no doubt. I just don’t think of it yet, because I want to like what I do.”

Want to like what I do.

Was that what you were doing to yourself? Making something miserable for yourself that could or could not have ended half as bad as you thought?

Hmm…

“That’s good,” you said.

“I mean,” Jungkook started again. “You’re still young. If you can’t be passionate about what you’re doing, you can look around for something better, you know? Like—”

His shoulder rose, and he clicked his tongue, “You don’t have to go with whatever’s forced upon you, no matter who you are.”

Your eyebrows kissed; you felt a sense of relief the moment the breeze blew through the open door. Two fresh inhales at once.

You were in for surprises all night, it seemed.

“Do you… know who I am?” you wondered; your voice was cautious, intent on not spilling too much.

Which wasn’t necessary after all.

“I told you I’m not stupid.”

Yet, he didn’t mention it. Didn’t care for it, either. It was kind of nice.

A corner of your lips tugged into a little smile, hands folding behind your back as you digressed, “Is there anything else you’d like to know, Jungkook?”

He huffed, shaking his head for a moment; folded his arms as he teased, “You didn’t even answer my question.” He bit the inside of his cheek; seemed amused. A little fascinated. “But okay. Something else then. Do you like games?”

Huh.

“Like what?”

“Mmmh. There’s spin the bottle,” he suggested, albeit immediately taking it back upon taking in your grimace. “Okay, no, but there’s also like… two truths, one lie?”

“Oh, uh—”

“We don’t have to play—”

“No, I…” You sighed, delivering a reassuring smile. He was truly so polite. “I was just thinking, but…”

He was waiting with those big eyes. Shaking the hair off his face with slightly parted lips. Those things — they felt like tiny habits; you wished you’d been sober enough to pinpoint all of them.

You gathered three ideas in your head, and after careful contemplation, you said, “Okay. I have shotgunned a beer in under ten seconds.” He looked impressed. Fun. “I snuck into a music festival without a ticket. And… I prank called an ex once.”

“Shotgunned a beer,” his answer came immediately, no trace of doubt, “I tried that once and it took me over fifteen seconds.”

“Well. You’re wrong, noob,” you answered, delighted by his mock annoyance, “I never called an ex to prank them. That’s disrespectful.”

For a second, he looked embarrassed — and then, he nodded, accompanied by, “And I respect that.”

He shifted against the wall, inhaling a breath with a hiss as he thought. His eyes travelled to the ceiling, and then to the people wandering about. No one was approaching the balcony, because you’d already patiently reserved your spot.

Jungkook squinted his eyes shut, and then released the lips he’d pressed together with a plop. Finally uttered as his fingers counted, “‘Kay uh, I have pulled an all-nighter for a major exam and still aced it. I have performed a belly flop off a diving board—”

“Those are so specific.”

“And, I’ve been part of a flash mob before.”

No clue, and no point in thinking about it. So you guessed, “I’ll say the flash mob one isn’t true. We’ve all pulled an all-nighter before, and the other one was too distinct.”

“Well damn,” Jungkook said, stretching the last word as though you’d solved a century-old riddle. “You’re right. You already know me so well.”

“I could do a quiz show on you, I’m sure.”

He laughed. Whenever he expected you to roll his eyes at him or to dismiss his foolish jokes, you joined his bullshit instead. Sweet.

The boys relaxing outside interrupted your game, finally flooding out. Apparently, there was a third you couldn’t see, and he flinched when you made your way out, almost bumping against you.

You didn’t know who it was, but he seemed to know Jungkook.

Flashed a gummy smile when his eyes moved back and forth between your conversation partner and you. His cheeks were red, but his stance and walk were still stable; high-tolerance drinker.

But a little, teasing “Enjoy yourself,” was still in the interaction as he passed you by.

Walking out into the summer night immediately evoked a sense of serenity. The warm breeze caressed your skin, wafting the scent of blooming flowers towards you. Under the moonlit sky, the world was alive — or at least, the one you were visiting right now.

It was a little louder here again, though the noises came from chatter and conversations rather than music.

From here, you had a better view at the neighbourhood; and tragically, at the people making out in that children’s treehouse. You laughed.

Leaning over the railing, you inhaled the wind, watching Jungkook follow suit before you said, “Okay, moving on — I’ve never sat on the roof of these… detached houses. I am not a procrastinator… And I’d really like some more of that cheap booze right now.”

He looked at you in disbelief, though charmed enough to chuckle and wonder, “You actually do?”

“That’s on you to find out.”

“I mean, maybe you are sick of wine and champagne.” Well… true. But when he saw bits of your expression fall, his laughter subsided a little, and he added without hesitation, “No, but you might actually mean that. I feel like those are all truths, but… I’ll go with the procrastination one.”

You stomped your feet in light excitement when he guessed wrong, glimmering eyes staring into starry ones. “Nope.”

“No?” His forehead wrinkled; and then, his eyes ripped open. “What, the roof bit?”

You nodded. He asked, “Oh? Wait, what?”

More than two decades, and you’d only seen these things in movies and TV shows. People sharing lunches and thoughts on roof tiles, soaking in the sun, building up to a big, character-developing moment.

No real life occurrence for you.

“Why does it surprise you?” you asked. “Isn’t it dangerous?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, I…” He leaned back, rubbing the nape of his neck. “I’m a country boy.” Interesting. The more you knew. He pointed to the sky. “More stars down there, so we used to do it a lot in the summer. And a friend of mine… she and I, we liked spending nights like this.”

You ignored the pause after the mention of his friend — you wouldn’t have noticed anyway if he hadn’t dropped his gaze to his hands.

“Oh… that sounds nice.”

A nod confirmed your statement, short-lived when he said, “Alright. One more.”

He turned towards you, placing his lower arm onto the railing. His smile was genuine; he looked beautiful like this. Messy hair blowing into his face, covering his eyes until it didn’t and you finally saw—

That.

This man had an entire night sky in his eyes, diamonds sprinkled all over.

So sincere. Maybe that’s what lured them all in; not just his charm.

“Okay,” you more mouthed than said.

“So,” he drew in a breath, licking his lips, “I’m a cat person. I’d rather drive than shotgun. And…”

Once more, he hesitated, bringing back his thinking face, and you used the moment to declare, “These are tough.”

He stalled. You waited; looking at him in anticipation until he smirked, leaning in to nudge your shoulder and utter the most outrageously riveting confession of the night.

Your heart stood still before he’d spoken the last syllable.

“I kinda wanna kiss you right now.”

A fever dream, wasn’t it?

You blanked. You would’ve been lying if you’d said you didn’t think about it tonight.

Obviously not a top priority, but it’d crossed your swaying mind, undoubtedly. Not that you knew too much about him — but he drew you in, like a hook-up with chemistry.

Because that’s what that night seemed to develop into.

All that your throat spit out was a little, “Damn—”

He held up a hand, and then pointed to his chest, innocently stating, “But that’s me. I won’t even touch you without consent.”

The balcony was rotating a little. Either the ground or you.

Probably you.

Because your mind was blurred, too; the air charged with tension. The witty banter and lighthearted remarks weren’t supposed to shift like this; where had all this appetite come from?

“So you’re… confessing one of your truths now?” you asked.

A playful smile tugged at your lips; you angled your head, waiting for a response.

His chest moved inwards, holding the breath before he choked it out in a laugh. Embarrassed with himself, he lifted a shoulder, saying no more than, “Well, shit.”

Ugh, the playful tone.

The thirst pooling in your stomach subsided a little when you saw his eyes sparkle like this. Images of his lips on yours faded just slowly as you found enough courage to tell him, “Not that easy to just snatch a kiss from me.”

A frisky challenge appeared in your eyes and he took it all in patiently as he inquired, “Okay… what would I need to do then?”

If he truly meant his little admission, were you going to let him dive into it? Allow the little adventure, swaying from your original plans for tonight?

Did you have any at all?

Your voice daring and just a teeny tiny bit mischievous, you proposed, “I’ll kiss you if I fail at guessing the lie. If not, then I won’t.”

A smirk danced on Jungkook’s lips as he leaned closer, a surge of excitement mingling with a touch of nerves. Quietly, he mused, “Fifty-fifty chance.”

“Right.”

“You could just…” His voice dropped the moment his eyes did, following the fingers that reached out to your arm but never touched you. “Walk away if it’s too weird.”

“Nah. I’m too invested now.” A grin spread across your voice, hiding the fog his expression elicited. “Kiss me when I lose. And I’m saying that, because I do feel like I’ll win.”

Stupid, usual, drunk blabber.

Too courageous. Too daring.

“I choose,” you tried to focus on your sentences, only mildly distracted by the bite of his lip, “drive rather than shotgun. You probably do like cats.”

And the moment you voiced your option, victorious crinkles formed around his eyes. Doom became crystal clear to you, though you couldn’t help but embrace it with open arms.

And the thought stirred something in you.

“Wrong. I like cats, but I have a dog and I love him to bits,” he remarked, triumphant and teasing.

Holy fuck, he was good at this.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

He was too exhilarating, his effect too undeniable. And each of his words strengthened that desire in you, luring you in like a seductive melody, enticing you to surrender to its rhythm.

“It’s okay,” was what it entailed, “I know you don’t want to kiss me,” he backed away, and you released the breath, “so I won’t.”

The smirk stayed glued to his face. Unspoken words remained just that, and you let the night evolve, aware yet oblivious to how it’d unfold.

And as he leaned back again, his expression promising, you allowed the spark to keep dancing between you. Patient and curious when you let him know—

“Jeon Jungkook… that’s incredibly thoughtful of you.”

The letters on the paper barely make any sense.

You read through and over them, putting them together to syllables and relating them to the other words in the sentences.

You still remember rushing through your narrative. Half excited and half indignant, you jotted down all you could remember before you wouldn’t. The lines and curves of the alphabet are messy and nowhere near constant.

Exhausted and still feeling remnants of the inebriation, you didn’t have it in you to indulge in poetry or eloquent prose.

You remember it got worse as you proceeded. You remember your words became blurrier, incoherent, your thoughts jumping from one idea of the night to another.

To sentences he said, to things he did.

Only now, it has all escaped your memory — and it seems that your past self didn’t have any particular intention to let your older being recall it all.

Because in the middle of the page, your thoughts finish in a cliffhanger.

I think at the very end, it wasn’t the time we spent in the bedroom that messed me up. It was the goddamn roof.

And that’s it.

When you flip the page, another day has started. Several dates skipped, you talk about a cosy study session in a coffee shop and the faces you saw. About the waitress who praised your hair style and ended up chatting for half an hour.

Little things. You didn’t mention Jungkook again anymore until he joined your class and crept under your skin. Evoked all emotions you barely knew before — a pain in the ass but an introduction to… whatever has developed now.

An alternative to the reality you lived. Never out to fix you but to pull you out of your shell.

Maybe that’s why you ripped out all the pages. Behind the lost memories, you still know the humiliation you faced — but you don’t know about the little dialogues anymore. The things he said and how you perceived them.

Where are those words you scribbled down?

You look around your room. Your bed and desk are a mess; numerous objects scattered enough to make you uncomfortable. The sun is still high in the sky, but you know it’ll set eventually.

And by then, it’ll be too late.

Maybe you should stuff the diary back to the place you pulled it from. Maybe you should leave this smothering room; that spot on the bed where you sit, sunlight burning up your skin.

You hold your breath when your phone vibrates against your thigh, and let it out when your heart has calmed from the sudden intrusion.

The lit screen is unreadable against the sun; but when you lift it to your face, the message jumps into your face and attacks you like a wild animal.

Hoseok [6:23PM]: Work was slow today, but I’m not doing the night shift this time!! Hoseok [6:23PM]: So we could grab dinner if you’d like?😁

A kind, genuine question shouldn’t grip your chest like this. The way your heart is leaking and your lungs emptying — when someone really cares for you, that shouldn’t happen.

But when you don’t care back just as much, it still does.

You remember feeling just like this a year ago; at the stupid party with its stupid music and then on the dumb, stupid roof.

An active dodging of one presence and a silent yearning for another.

It makes you sick.

The twisted feeling in your stomach lingers; and when you look at your diary again, you feel it everywhere. In your guts, in your chest, in your throat.

Something burns behind your eyes; tears are missing in action, but you think it’s your melting brain. On fire as you keep overthinking, fingers curling in, legs restless and urging you to stand.

Hoseok’s dinner dates aren’t what you crave, and you know it. Everyone knows it.

He, the cause of all misery, must, too.

And when the ache becomes too poignant, nearly unbearable, you lift yourself off the mattress. You flatten your shirt, pull up your jeans and grab a thin bolero just in case.

If you hurried, you could make it, right?

Rushing down the stairs, you shoot a message back to Hoseok; simple and quick. Hints of regret penetrate the back of your mind, but you shove them away to focus on the situation on hand.

You [6:25PM]: Ahhh I’m at an event today but… tomorrow? x

Your eyes dart to the top of the screen. Numbers sting more than they should; the date looks unreal today.

September 1st.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

But… That's for you to worry about later.

Ripped pages and a fervent night still floating in your mind, you step into your car. It’s hot inside, considering you left it standing on the road after work instead of parking it in the garage.

It’s baffling how lazy heartbreak makes you. How tiny tasks leave a body immobile, forcing it to stick to the bare minimum.

You grip the wheel hard, only now realising how breathless the short way down rendered you. The prospect of seeing him again stirs your insides and your mind. Doesn’t let you start the engine just yet.

In the moments that you use to relax, you imagine how things might go.

You’d enter a climatised, sophisticated building. Walk past art that people worked hard on, admiring every stroke and colour. Would approach the place he invited you to with a wobbly body; ready for whatever pain he’d inflict on you.

But.

Pain.

Isn’t that what has kept you away for all those endless days since you escaped the dark alley?

Pressed against the cold wall, flush against him, hot lips parted and a hotter breath mingling with yours. Only to crush all you’d hoped for. He did this to you.

You begged. And he kept doing it to you.

Do you have the capacity to hurt again?

Your head moves to the side. Slowly peeking over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the squared object, wrapped in silver; you don’t have the heart to look at it for too long.

No.

You’re stupid. And you will reprimand yourself for this later.

Perhaps it’s better to not allow such a later at all.

So you remove your trembling hands from the steering wheel. Look down to them; feel your body fall again. Whatever hope you’d gathered evaporates at the idea of the same, damn ache.

And it feels awful. So fucking awful.

The bare minimum. That’s what all of you wants you to do. With the energy gone, you want to become weightless. Want to press against the pain in your chest.

So you walk back in; lay down without attending dinner.

One last glance at your phone before you put it away. Still the damn first of September.

An hour later, notifications light up your phone, but you, pulled in by the same uneasy slumber, won’t see them anymore before the morning breaks in.

Those darn treacherous lips of his had lied to you.

He’d said he wasn’t hitting on you; wanted you to spare him all talk of boyfriends and affection.

Instead he kept talking — kept drinking with you.

Rendering you breathless when he pushed you against the wall of an empty room, shoving his tongue down your throat like it was all he ever knew how to do.

You remember giggles — an ongoing, addictive streak of childish laughter. Coming from his touches and silly words and from how it tickled when he kissed that sensitive spot on your neck.

With a sigh, you put a hand half on his jaw, half on his cheek. His features were sharp; in your drunken state, you wondered if you’d cut yourself if you ran your fingers across them fast enough.

But everything was foggy and insane; it was surprising enough that your legs weren’t giving in under his actions. And when your brain enabled a coherent conversation, you felt even prouder.

“Are we gonna stay here?” you asked.

It must have been the first time tonight that you could hear your own voice properly. The music sounding from downstairs was a lot dimmer here, muffled through the door.

Your head felt a sense of relief that he took very soon again; the tiny but sharp bite on your neck made you gasp in anticipation. He was doing whatever the fuck he wanted to, and you let him.

“I mean,” he whispered; his voice was low and raspy, and its effect shot straight under your skirt, “I can totally take you against the door.”

Which was menacing enough as it was. But the promise to take you at all left you wanting so much fucking more.

You rubbed your legs together as a heavy hand pushed against the small of your back. He lifted his head to look at you, teeth digging into his pink, lower lip. His eyes looked so damn thirsty that you felt your own tongue dry up.

As he stared at you in question, fingers digging into your back, you said, “Nah… door too cold and uncomfortable.”

“‘Kay,” his fingers snuck to the hem of your skirt, only pushing under the material for a brief moment before they retreated, “get to the bed then.”

Your body felt like a feather when he let you go.

As you obliged, taking languid steps to the mattress, your voice was still enthusiastic and you were still bubbly, “It’s so much calmer here.”

You sighed when you dropped onto the bed, not quite noticing that he didn’t deliver an answer. You didn’t have it in you to focus on much at all when you looked at him again — because he was locking the damn door.

And something about this little, harmless gesture was so devilishly sexy.

You looked at the ceiling; then closed your eyes. He was too much to bear; so you continued your zany ramble, “I usually get a headache at such dark and loud places.”

No answer. But you heard steps inching closer.

You had to shoot a glance.

And when you did, he was undoing a few buttons of his shirt, including the ones of his sleeves. Then whipped out his belt and threw it to the side haphazardly, grinning down at your awaiting body.

He was so hot.

“But not today,” you continued, “I was too distracted to get a headache today.”

“Mhmmm.”

The tired glimpses of him walking to you had your heart beating at an unreal rate. You knew he was just as drunk as you, but he was oddly calm for now, as opposed to you. Or maybe, he just acted that way.

When he suddenly dropped onto the bed, knees digging in and a torso and lips hovering above you, your breath hitched.

Fuck.

“Keep talking,” he ordered.

His smile was inviting and on purpose. Big eyes were half-lidded now, wanting and hankering. You were putty in his hands.

“What?” you mumbled.

“You said you were distracted.”

“I… I still am.”

“Yeah,” a smirk lifted his lips; his fingers freed your forehead off a few hair strands. In return, his bangs hung into your face. “Tell me about it.”

You gulped.

Your hands itched to grab him by his collar, but you felt so powerless that your digits didn’t move. A sole kiss wasn’t supposed to fuck you up like this, but you were already a hot mess.

And when you finally gathered a full thought, you said, “I don’t want to.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, letting his face drop a little more. “Why?”

“We’ve talked enough.”

“Fair enough,” he responded, laughing, closing his eyes as his breath fell against your shoulder.

The tip of his nose ran a trail along your neck and then down to your clavicles. You didn’t have much to say; mostly because you couldn’t grant language much attention anymore.

Not when he took the strap of your top between his teeth and started pulling it off your shoulder. Baring your skin as his soft voice questioned, “What do you wanna do, then?”

“Mmmmh,” you said, finally managing to sneak your palms onto his broad shoulders. “What can you do?”

Bit by bit, your exhaustion faded. The more he touched you, the more he lit your veins. You felt electrified; sleep was vanishing fast.

“I can do,” he murmured, placing a gentle kiss onto the newly naked skin of your shoulder, “a lot.”

“Like what?”

“You know… I can just show you?” His voice sounded so pretty. So alluring and pleasant to listen to; you wanted it to talk you to sleep. “I dunno what you like, though.”

You could barely remember when exactly he’d bewitched you like this; but you didn’t have it in you to care. Only admitted, “I think I’ll like anything you do.”

He smiled. He had a confident laugh — probably knew how gorgeous he looked.

“We can find out. No worries.” His eyes shifted to your top, and then down to your skirt. “Just need to get all of this off first.”

“Mhmmm. The best part.”

The intimate atmosphere settled in the bedroom; strange to think that just a while ago you were standing on a balcony, playing a game. Seemingly harmless in theory, leading to a locked room in reality.

Which reminded you.

He was so eager to take off your clothes so quickly, but you didn’t consider him the type to rush things. Why the hell would you give in so fast then? Allow him that bit when you were sure that man liked to tease?

So your expressions changed when an idea formed in your mind. A mischievous glimmer flickered in your eyes when you proposed, “What if we played another game?”

And this seemed to grab his attention.

“I’m all ears.”

Your voice dropped to a husky whisper as you pushed yourself off the bed, waiting for him to sit up before you began outlining the rules, “Strip according to correct guesses. We take turns asking questions, and whenever one guesses correctly, the other removes a piece of clothing.”

The idea ignited a sense of thrill in you; perhaps he felt the same. He sat back against the headboard, curiosity lacing his adjective features, and you went ahead and kneeled next to him, hearing an intrigued, “Sounds easy enough, right?”

“Right. We can set boundaries, if you’d like, but—”

“I do trust you. It sounds… kinda fun.”

You exhaled relieved; more keen by the second. “Yeah. I wanted to say it sounds fun.”

Jungkook thought about it for another moment; then, he straightened his stance, exchanging a knowing glance, crossing his arms as he said, “Let the games begin, then.”

You jubilated.

With the air thick with beguilement, you crawled an inch closer until your knees hit his waist. He immediately put a hand on your bare knee, charging the atmosphere.

For a minute, time stood still, his touch warm and inviting. You’d delivered boldness, acting as a catalyst. Further tension brewed between you, simmering at the surface, ready to be acknowledged and explored some more.

“You were going to hook up with someone tonight,” you said. A statement, not a question.

He paused for a second, staring, slowly blinking at you. Hesitation lingered for a good while before he finally mumbled, “Maybe.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Despite the fact that Jeon Jungkook was still a stranger, you’d clicked somehow — you liked to think that he’d had his focus fixated on you tonight. That you weren’t just any fling, at least not before the night ended.

So it was oddly relieving when he noticed your questioning gaze, clicking his tongue before he said, “Well, I thought it could happen… but I wasn’t really planning on it. Because anything’s possible at this place.”

You couldn’t bite back your curiosity, and spat immediately, “Are you hooking up with me, because you considered it possible? Were you gonna do it with just anyone? The girl downstairs—”

“Nah,” he was quick to counter, “not her.”

Right.

You believed him with a shrug, licking your lip; watched his gaze follow. He moved closer just a little; as his hazy doe eyes moved back to yours, you knew he was struggling as much as you.

So you fuelled the fire, suggesting, “So I’m special tonight, is my guess. You want me a little more than anyone else.”

He pushed forward — the sudden movement transported his lips so unbearably close to yours, and you flinched. He fumbled with something, and only when you peeked to the left, did you see him taking off a damn sock.

Then, he leaned back again, relaxed when he repeated the statement from earlier, “You’re escaping something tonight.”

Well damn. He didn’t need to go so hard right from the start.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his body further back. Putting a gap between him and you, you crossed your arms over your torso, gripping the hem of your top to slip it off swiftly.

Which seemed to baffle him. The dark red Fenty bra caught his attention — and his breath.

And all he could mutter was a weak, little, “Wow. Going all in.”

“Not yet,” you argued, shaking your head. “But I’m also just trying to encourage you to do the same.”

“Right…”

You cleared your throat, rubbing his dark grey, black shirt between your fingertips. “Your favourite colour is black.”

“Hmmm.” He thought for a moment. And then imitated his action from before, once more eliciting a gasp out of you when he took off the other sock. “One of my favourite colours, so I’ll take it.”

“You’re a coward for this.”

Fucking socks.

Laughing in mock, you ran a finger down his leg. To his knee and then up to his hip again. Only barely missing the bulge very slowly forming under the dark pants.

Breath escaped through his teeth; it seemed that he was a fan of such teasing, because his eyes sparkled.

And then, your brave mind formed this brilliant, easy yet effective idea.

You were already so far gone — taking it a step further wouldn’t be awkward at this point. So you shook your head in disbelief, looking at his feet and then at the fully clothed body.

And the moment after, you lifted your body and straddled him.

Hah.

There it was.

The restrained breath and the clenched fists. The suddenly open mouth and wide eyes; you could play his game, too.

Before he could speak, you sighed at the palpable beauty growing underneath you, remarking a sweet, “What now? Still gonna take it slow?”

“I… dunno,” he said, “make me do it differently.”

You moved your hips over his dick just a little. The movement was subtle but did what it needed to; the tiny moan he voiced was too fucking beautiful to regret and the bulge, while faint, was definitely there.

You loved this a little too much.

With a strained, nearly hoarse voice, he spoke, “You’re a 2000s hit girl. You uh— you don’t like the shit that comes out today.”

His speech kept breaking, and you felt beyond proud of it. If you managed to make Jeon Jungkook stutter even once today, you’d bestow a badass title upon yourself—

“Wrong,” you said with a confident smile; for now, he wasn’t getting what he needed. “I’m a Frankie Valli girl.”

“That’s so hot of you,” Jungkook said. He lifted a finger to your bra, hooking it into the space that connected both cups. Pulled a little. “But. Just fucking take something off, please?”

You grabbed his wrist, removing it from your body. “That’d be cheating.”

“I’ll take off my jeans if you do the same with your skirt…?”

Fuck.

If Jungkook hadn’t been so stubborn with his control, you knew you could’ve made him falter beneath you. Something about him suggested that he was very well able to become a begging mess.

But not today.

Today, you were giving in.

You wetted your lips, clenching your jaw, and then finally said, “...Alright.”

The process of pulling down your skirt was a hassle. You basically pushed your tits into his face as he attempted to kick off his jeans, constantly distracted and letting you know that he was.

He missed your touch as you threw your skirt aside and only breathed out in relief when you found your way back onto his lap.

It felt good, feeling his bare legs against your ass. To diminish the hurdle that his jeans were. To feel his erection pressing into your dampening panties, hard and firm and ego-boosting under you.

You bit back how amazing it felt, because you knew you’d be spilling praises shamelessly all too soon. Somehow, you were sure he’d make you do it — so for now, you kept the craze to yourself.

He, however, didn’t.

“My God,” he whispered. A warm palm brushed along your sides and across your back. Toyed with the hook of your wine red panties before it dropped to the curve of your ass. “You look so good. How did you know I liked this colour?”

Lifting the shoulder he pulled the strap down from, you joked, “I asked around campus.”

To which the roaming hand dug underneath your panties, pulling out a tiny moan as he left crescent moons in your flesh. Soon, his hand was gone again, and he nodded towards you, saying, “Look at you…”

“…What?”

“You’re a goddamn tease, and you don’t even need to think about it.” His hips lifted, pressing against your cunt. “You’re so fucking sexy… you know?”

You didn’t; but it wasn’t bad hearing it out loud. Feigning all poise, you answered, “Business student confidence.”

“Uh-huh. Some of y’all are so stuck up, but… you’re cool. Gotta be good to you tonight.”

You scoffed, affected by his length — were you truly ready to have him ram it into you? Because he felt… huge.

“You…” you began, choking on that word before swallowing the clump and starting anew. “You could just fuck me and leave.”

But he, adamant and eager to stick to his plan, shook his head immediately. Hair flew into his face as he answered, “Nah. I need to leave a good impression.”

What a statement.

Was there a doubt about it anyway? If he’d fucked you and left, you might’ve remembered, too.

But you weren’t going to decline the offer, so you simply challenged, “Do it.”

“Right. Fuck the stripping then.”

Jeon Jungkook was a beast ready to devour you. He showed early signs of his insatiability when he kissed you first — and now, he still kept proving his point when a harsh hand cupped one of your tits.

He didn’t unhook the lingerie just yet; instead, he tugged the material over your breasts, letting it settle it under them. The change in temperature made your nipples perk, and judging from how he looked at them, he noticed, too.

Because a second later, his mouth hung open; his breathing was stagnant and infuriatingly hot. Lustful and insane, he kept staring at the pebbles, rounding the tip of his finger around a nipple as he said, “You’re full of surprises.”

Your eyebrows furrowed — as far as you were aware, your desires lay in front of him like an open book.

“How so?” you asked.

“Just. Whenever I think you can’t get prettier—”

Slowly drawn to you, his eyelids dropped. Your hands grazed his naked torso until they reached his jaw, and you cupped his face the moment plush lips wrapped around your nub.

Sensitive.

A wet, burning hot tongue snuck its way through, the tip of it rounding your nipple. When you cracked your eyes open and looked down, inhaling the scent of his hair, his eyes were shut comfortably.

The arched upper lip looked pretty from here; his mouth wrapped around your tit so gorgeously. No matter what he was going to do with and to you tonight, you already knew he’d look stunning doing it.

And you, while driven by the sound he voiced against your breast and the thrown-back head, couldn’t help but feel self-aware. This was the first time you were seeing Jungkook naked; and the first time vice versa.

For a man who’d bared enough pretty women before, were you good enough? Or did he not care, drowning in desire and led by the hardness of his length?

Why were you always like this?

“I’m…” you breathed, tilting your head. “I’m a little insecure.”

Jungkook’s teeth captured your nipple ever-so-lightly, pulling just a bit — then, he sucked one more time before he let go with a plop. He shook the hair off his face, and then asked, “You? You don’t seem insecure at all.”

“That’s what you see,” you said, ignoring the way his breath hit the wetness on your tits. “I have weaknesses, too.”

“Oh… well. Like what?”

“Like. I’m insecure about my boobs.”

He shot a stare down. Analysed them, taking them in — probably the first time properly since he’d pulled that damn bra down. It worried you; was he still seeing something he liked?

Maybe.

Because confused, he wondered, “Why?”

You shrugged your shoulders. And his interest piqued, his voice changed, a little more inquisitive and sober now when he asked, “Has anyone ever said anything bad about them?”

“Well,” you took in the genuinity in his eyes. Starry and sincerely curious; his touch around your waist was gentle. “No.”

Your response didn’t seem to surprise him. Much like he didn’t expect any other answer; at least, that’s what the slow nod, accompanied by a stretched hum, suggested.

“Good,” he said, putting a hand under one of your tits, flush against your ribs, “because… you’re beautiful head to toe.”

This was a fling, you told yourself, but you moved farther and farther from that belief — especially with those praises he showered you in. And the click you’d previously felt, the budding connection…

It was a fling, but boosting your ego, you hoped he was affected by it, too.

What was superior to a hook-up you would remember? One where the other person exuded and demanded respect and trust?

“Thank you,” you told him. A daring finger travelled to his jaw, tracing the sharp line; you’d wanted to touch it all night, and now you couldn’t stop. “You’re pretty, too.”

Slowly, he pulled you closer, wet nipples touching his toned pecs until you were flush against him. Warm… he was so warm.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

You smelled the alcohol in his breath, only half as hypnotising and intoxicating as him. Breathing in sharply, your body shivered as you choked out a weak, “Yeah…”

And a moment later, he was kissing you.

Deeper this time, eating you whole. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your own rising; you didn’t need to see the goosebumps to know they were very much present.

This… he… felt too good.

He put his palm on the back of your head, messing up and knotting your hair and angled your face to dive in harder. You could barely breathe with him so close to you.

His torso pressed against you; it felt as though he was squishing your lungs. And this tongue of his — rolling around yours. Lips enclosed yours and made oxygen a foreign concept.

And he only pulled back when you whimpered unintentionally, nails deeper in his skin. As he looked at you, you were long out of it — and it amused him. Made him laugh as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. You didn’t think anything of it felt even remotely wrong.

You answered, “You’re just… such a good kisser.”

“Oh,” he voiced, suddenly all confident when you nodded hastily, still drunk and horny. “Oh?”

“I’m serious. How much practice have you had?”

Jungkook halted for a while. Not to think, you assumed — but his expressions changed. Like he hadn’t planned on gaining practice, and now your question was catching him off guard.

And after a while, he finally said, “Some.”

Not that you could dissect this odd behaviour of his. All you knew was that you wanted those lips back on you — so you led your hand to the nape of his neck, tugging him in as you plead, “I… wanna keep going.”

Spinning just a little, his eyes slid down from your gaze, already parting his mouth. But when the softness of your lips barely touched his, he reclined a little yet enough to dodge your kiss.

“Now wait,” he mumbled, changing back to a smirk. At this point you wondered whether he did it on full purpose. “If you really like it so much, I… can’t just give it to you so easily.”

What.

“Why?”

“Because you’re amazing to look at.” One of his tattooed fingers drifted to your chin and flicked it. “So hungry for more.”

“Jungkook—”

“And you’re an amazing kisser, too,” he said as smugly as an inebriated man could, delighted by your sudden pout, “so it’s not just hard for you.”

“Jungkook,” you emphasised, hissing in impatience, grinding against his erection, “take off that damn underwear.”

“Then guess something correctly about me.”

“Right.” You groaned in frustration, lifting the hand from the nape of his neck to his hair, pulling in slight irritation. With gritted teeth, you spat, “You want me. You want to fucking flip me around like some damn pancake. You want to fold me in half, don’t you?”

In truth, things you wanted. In theory, things you hoped he desired just as much.

“Want to pin my wrists to the bed and pound and fuck me into another universe until you’ve left a dent under me. To bruise my skin and leave scratches deep enough for me to feel tomorrow and… I fucking promise I can give you even more than that.”

Silence.

He stared at you, holding a breath. The sheer disbelief in his eyes satisfied you; the lack of words was soon made up by the twitching package underneath your folds.

Gulping and unblinking, he ogled at you like you’d handed Area51’s secrets to him; and then, half a minute later, he finally said, “Fucking hell.”

“Wha—”

“That was fucking unfair.”

This made you smile. For once, you were certain you had the same power over him as he did over you.

“C’mon,” you said, once more rolling your hips over his length. A delicious grunt left his lips. “Wanna know what you’re hiding in there.”

He puffed out a breath, kissing his teeth. “Something interesting. You might like it.”

“You’re…” You rolled your eyes, but immediately stopped. It made you dizzy. “So full of yourself.”

“I mean…”

“Underwear. Please.”

It took some begging and a throw of puppy eyes, but this time, he obliged. Chuckled a bit and then patted your thigh, signalling you to get off of him to ease the process.

And once you did, you waited. For ages, it seemed.

Because those veiny hands were as teasing as they were skilled. Pulled down the Calvins torturously slowly.

But when he did… oh, boy…

He was big. Incredibly so.

You felt your heart in your pussy.

“I’m not full of myself, by the way,” he said. “I’ll ask you again in fifteen-ish minutes. Tell me I was wrong.”

You can’t remember anymore, but you’re sure you sat there with your tongue out. Eyes big, drooling, leaning forwards with tits pressed between your arms. Your body was a mess, and he hadn’t done anything much to it yet.

You wanted him to. ASAP.

“Ah,” you voiced, only reluctantly ripping your gaze off that glorious cock to fixate it on his eyes. “So you do want to fuck me for real.”

“Baby,” he paused. Gave his dick a stroke as he pushed towards you, sneaking a hand to your waist. “I won’t leave a piece of your body intact.”

Chills everywhere. The current shot straight down to your dribbling cunt.

You breathed a singular, “Okay.”

And a moment later, you were in his grip.

The fingers previously wrapped around his shaft pressed against your back, throwing you onto the bed in one swift motion. He positioned himself immediately, dropping low to pull your legs apart and lick above your panties just once.

He was ruining them. Fuck.

And… were tongues always so wet? Or was that just you?

Because the panties stuck to your poor pussy like they were fusing with it. And the pad of his thumb suddenly dipping between your clothed folds didn’t help.

“Take them off!” you commanded, so breathy that it was high-key embarrassing.

Your frustration didn’t deter him in the slightest; if anything at all, you thought you saw that dangerous glimmer brighten in his eyes.

He nodded towards the garment, chin so close that it grazed your covered clit. You flinched, though distracted by the absolutely ruthless demand he uttered, “You do it.”

“Why?!”

His tone and expression were cheesy; you were so done with him. “Wanna see you struggle.”

What an ass.

Intentionally, you rolled your hip, shoving your damp pussy into his face before he backed away with a laugh. He allowed you a moment to pull back your legs and stretch them to the ceiling, stripping off the thin barrier once and for all.

It rolled along your legs, and you already knew you’d be having a gloriously horrible time fixing it and putting it on again.

Whatever.

You stored this thoughts for after Jeon Jungkook had railed you to the moon. All good.

He waited for you with his head propped up, fists digging into his cheeks playfully. The Joker–esque smile made you want to wipe it off his face, ideas clear in your head.

Or maybe it wasn’t the smile. Maybe you just wanted to sit on his face.

“Okay,” he said once your legs dropped again, sniffling once before he crawled closer. You wished you could’ve seen how his cock twitched, but he had it sandwiched between his body and the mattress. He gripped your thighs, and then said, “You’re already shaking.”

Your face warmed. You pushed your head into the pillow, shifting comfortably as you positioned your legs on each side of his head. Closing your eyes, you shrugged, shoving all visible timidity away.

“Felt good,” you said.

“I licked you just once. Over those pretty, little panties, too.”

Did he ever shut up?

“So what.” You moved further down the bed, breathing in when his fingers touched your waist, and ordered, “Give me more. Please.”

You heard a chuckle, again.

“Make a mess for me, ‘kay?”

You felt his presence closing in, his hunger evident in the way he licked his lips. Nimble fingers pushed his hair back, but it fell back into his face, teasing your clit along with his nose.

With a tantalising roll of his hips, he matched your desire, grinding into the bed. His perfect ass, a tapered waist and strong shoulders filled your view. Hands pushed your legs apart, driven by a clear purpose.

Your brain was functioning on its last cell — you couldn’t say much more than a hazy, “Not messy enough yet?”

“Far from it.”

Slowly, he kissed your inner thigh, travelling close to your knee and then up again. The pecks were soft, accompanied by the gentlest bites; never too rough. He blew wherever he nibbled; and then repeated the process.

His lips felt like the flutter of butterfly wings against your skin; so tender and sweet. Though you were sure the delicate manner wouldn’t last too long.

You sighed constantly.

“So far from it,” he repeated close to your pussy, brushing along the junction that connected your leg with the rest of your body. “You’ll be twisting soon, I promise you that.”

“Ah… huh—”

Senseless sounds escaped you as he kept his pace slow. Kitten licks soon circled your pussy before the tip of his tongue tasted the dripping arousal between your folds. He used the gesture to part them — that was all.

Because he soon moved to the bottom of your cunt, exhaling against the dampness. You attempted to force your eyes open, but never quite succeeded — you wanted to see him, but you wanted to feel him just a little more.

“All of you is so pretty to look at,” he praised, and you blinked slowly. “Like, genitals are whatever, right? But you’re so pretty.”

What the fuck was he even saying?

No matter.

You’d take the compliment.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, and he chuckled at your vulnerable voice.

You felt the snicker against you when he dropped his wide tongue and flattened it. Started at the bottom where he’d settled, collecting extra saliva that soon flowed down your pussy when he finally moved up.

The touch was expected, but you held your breath. He was soft yet firm against you, and so, so wet.

You pressed your lips into a line, muffling a moan when he stopped right below your clit. The base of his tongue kept applying pressure, and you literally felt your pussy clench.

He removed his mouth for a moment, patting your sides as he said, “Good. Stay like that for me.” You assumed he meant your lack of defiance; but you were on the edge, nearly closing your legs around his head. “Will make you see heaven, alright?”

“Or hell, really.”

His laughter was constant. You didn’t think you were that hilarious, but his humour aligned with yours. Perhaps, however, you were just still too inebriated and your humour cracked.

But Jungkook, you’d decided, was cool for now.

Especially when he repeated his action. He didn’t curl up or flick his tongue; just licked, never applied more pressure than necessary, because this fucking man knew it didn’t equal more intensity.

He looked up at some point, gauging your reaction, only letting his eyelids flutter shut when you delivered the sound he’d awaited. Jungkook was sure you felt the smile that emerged — it was hard to hide his pride.

To realise how your fast breathing, clutching of sheets and heavy rise and fall of tits was his doing.

You were too sweet, too awesome, too pretty to not feel proud.

And you were so responsive — he liked listening to your body.

Which you noticed immediately; he was taking in every movement and sound. Actually did. Responded to them, got faster when you reacted, slowed down when you whispered little Nos.

And then, reaching the peak of consent mountain, he asked, “Does this work for you?”

Your nod was immediate, words tumbling out, “Keep going.”

Only, he didn’t quite keep going as you expected — just as your orgasm built up, your exclamations intensifying, he stopped. Rendering you hyper-sensitive.

Nice tactic. Guess that’s what he wanted — to flood you with more craze until he was ready to give you what you needed.

Instead of continuation, his mouth formed a small ‘O’, just enough to enclose your clit. Wet, shiny lips wrapped around the nub and started sucking gently, the rhythm pleasant and constant.

Then, he held his mouth there, tongue licking your clit, like a massage. He was never harsh like you were used to — men had, to your discomfort, even used teeth on your clit before.

Not Jungkook, though.

He was as vocal as you, sending vibrations to your pussy, groaning and moaning expletives as he sweetly confirmed your comfort. All accompanied by dangerous gestures — a pinch of your folds, raising your clit, licking from side to side.

And a minute or two later, he pushed two fingers into you; so effortlessly, so smoothly as he said, “Holy fuck. No friction at all.”

Between the mess he’d predicted, you tittered.

“Are you… this hard, too?”

“God,” he breathed; you felt the shake of his head against your leaking sex, “I’m the hardest I’ve ever been.”

“As if.”

“What?”

The surprise in his voice was funny; filled you with confidence, because he seemed to mean it.

You answered, “You’re good at this. This talk thing and… everything.”

“Thanks. But I’m actually the hardest—” His fingers fucked into you once, interrupting his words to hear you moan, “I’ve ever been. Fuck.” More pumps, not hard or long, but pressing against your walnutty spot diligently. “Shit… come for me.”

And you did.

Hard.

Your legs trembled, your lower body drowning in chaos. Your movements were unsteady, but he held you down, aiding you through the progress until—

The snapped coil vanished and the earth-shaking, mind blowing orgasm subsided.

The stars you saw were real — he’d actually caused his very own Big Bang behind your eyes and created a new universe.

Holy fuck.

“Oh, holy fuck,” you repeated, sensitive as hell, brushing quivering fingers along wet thighs.

Jungkook’s cheek was pressed against your leg, and he kept moving to kiss your flesh, rubbing your outer thighs, massaging them gently. He was taking care of you thoroughly — he didn’t come to play for three minutes and then leave.

“Good?” you heard his voice ask.

“Good,” you confirmed, nodding slowly. You were still in your post-frenzy haze, and it truly felt like it would never leave. “Very. What now?”

“Gonna wait a couple seconds until you’re ready to move on. In the meantime,” he moved his body up along yours, leaving a kiss here and there, “wanna know what I had the pleasure to taste?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you wrapped weak arms around his neck, pulling him in almost aggressively as his lips crashed against yours.

Half his body weight fell onto yours, but you didn’t care. Not with this strange, unfamiliar taste against your tongue, sucking it up eagerly. Or the cock, still rock hard, pressing against your stomach.

You wanted him so bad, it hurt. Everywhere.

As he parted, the touch of his hand contradicted the wild kiss — soft on your cheek, feeling your heat, his voice intriguing as he asked, “Ready then?”

“Mhm,” you voiced, “yes, please.”

One more butterfly kiss and an intrigued smile, and he moved away. The missing warmth left your body shivering, and you wrapped your arms around your body, pushing your tits together.

In comfort, your hand settled over your mounds, and you watched as he drew back the jeans half hanging off the bed. He fished out his wallet — from where you lay, you could make out a small murmur. Something about how he was lucky he didn’t lose it.

It made you smile.

And a moment later, he was sneaking back to you again, waving a condom between his fore and middle finger to show it to you. You couldn’t see the size description on it, but… you could imagine.

With his teeth, he ripped it open, moving towards you to replace your touch on your tits. A finger moved around the pebble, hardening it until it stood tall and perky enough for him to swoon.

But… that was also the very moment your drunk insanity hit the hardest.

Whatever triggered it, you still can barely think about it today.

Because a miniscule moment later, you complained, “One of my tits is bigger than the other.”

Which didn’t deter Jungkook; today, you wonder about it — back then, you barely registered his lack of care, his admiration for both sides as he said, “Oh yeah? Let’s see.”

“Promise you won’t find it weird once you notice.”

“I bet I barely will.”

He dropped low to kiss your flesh, fiddling with the nipples, but you pushed his shoulders away again. A confused expression danced across his features, and you shot back a timid stare as you worried, “No, I’m serious. It is strange.”

“No, it’s not. They’re perfectly gorgeous.”

“You… think?”

What a thing to be concerned about. You reached peak awkwardness that night, you’re sure — but he still stuck around.

“Mhmmm,” he voiced.

“Okay, but touch them lik—”

You screeched when he bit into your nub, planting you firmer against the bed. A final, oddly sexy order fell off his tongue, his teeth gritted when he said, “Enough. Shut up.”

And what better way to eliminate all your unspoken words than to start with a delicate brush of his mouth against the expanse of your neck?

There was something about the way his lips felt — taken care of, hydrated, pillowy soft and plush. Did every girl he touched feel that strange tingling sensation, the shiver down her spine?

As he explored the contours of your neck, pressing in, his hands wandered down. You closed your arms around him, pulling him closer, breathing a hushed, “Jungkook?”

No answer yet.

Instead, his fingers purposely grazed down your body before he wrapped them around the length poking your belly button. Distracted eyes met yours for a moment, as if in question, half-lidded when he started stroking the thick shaft.

The swollen lips parted, and you saw his tongue curling in briefly before it peeked out, wetting the dry, rosy pout. His head descended back to your neck, the kisses harder this time. Accompanied by damp smooches and a hot breath.

The tender nips sent waves of sensation through your body.

“Jungkook,” you murmured again.

He groaned against your skin, but looked up properly this time, still pumping himself harder than he already was as he hummed, “Hm?”

“Let me suck your dick,” you finally voiced. “I’ll fucking show you bits of your own medici—”

An innermost wish, lingering in the back of your mind the entire night. You wanted to return what he’d provided. A world-shattering, limb-numbing orgasm; all of him in your throat, thick and salty.

But when you attempted to sit up, he pushed you back again, dick-hand between your clavicles as he said, “Stay like this. You can use that sweet mouth of yours later.”

God. He made those cringey sex talks hot, too.

Your pulse quickened; intensifying a thousandfold when he lifted himself to his knees, looking down with shallow breaths to roll the rubber over his cock.

It twitched gorgeously. So curved, smooth; the colour of its tip mouthwatering.

You wanted him. You wanted him. You wanted him.

When he covered his palm in spit, spreading the saliva over his dick, you reached out. A silent offer to help, but it seemed he was finally done.

Because he grabbed your wrist momentarily, returning to his position over you and pushed one of your legs back. Angling it until your pussy spread for him.

Eyes closed, he came back for another messy kiss, and then said, “I’ll start slow… you tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Did it usually? You could imagine. With the package he carried around, you could truly imagine.

You nodded slowly, grabbing onto his shoulders, already breathless in anticipation.

“I will,” you promised.

“Okay.” He inhaled. Looked down between your bodies again, leading his cock to your entrance to poke it a couple times. Rubbing the tip between your folds. Then again, “Okay…”

The curve slid up to your clit and back down one more time, and a second later, finally—

The head slipped in slowly. Split you and turned the feeling of emptiness into something entirely else within a second.

You hissed, overwhelmed by the change in your body, and he immediately asked, “All good?”

“This is gonna be… you are so—”

A proud smile danced around his lips; they twitched in amusement, but he cleared his throat. Looked at you with a nod and assured again, “We’ll start slow. Don’t forget to speak up… yeah? Lemme know.”

“Mhmmm…”

Your mewls grew in pitch when he pushed further in, taking in your gasps until he was nearly sheathed inside you. And only when you realised he still had a bit to go, did you say, “Wait—”

“Hm? Why?”

He looked concerned and out of it, but listened immediately. The kissing eyebrows indicated genuine care; though the expression changed the moment you said, “I can’t breathe.”

Of all the reasons you’d told him to stop, that’s the last he expected. A laugh tumbled out, breathy and broken.

“See?” he said. “That’s why I didn’t want you to suck me off just yet. You look so done.”

“Shut up.”

He moved — shoved the dick in more. Fuck, you felt every ridge, despite the skin-thin condom. Felt him so deep, you could faint.

Your eyes rolled back, closing slowly as you heard him command, “Take a deep breath for me.”

You did.

“And breathe out.”

You did.

He closed the gap between your lips some more, bottoming out, and wiped the stray hair out of your heated face. His member jerked inside you, shifting, and it made your eyebrows twitch.

The whimper jumped out unintentionally; you felt self-conscious about it.

Not that he minded.

Quite the opposite.

In the heat of the moment, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder, moving down to your tits as he muttered a single, “Fuuuck.”

“What happened?”

“That sound you just made,” he whispered. His breaths against your chest were tempting; the blood-filled cock inside you too still. “My God. So sweet… but so hot. Wanna ruin you so bad.”

“Can’t more than you already did, but… please still do—”

“Are you okay now?”

You gulped. You were. You were longing — he couldn’t see that in your eyes? In the tremble of your hands, laying on his back?

“I am,” you promised, “won’t be more prepared than I am now… Please.”

You held onto the broad back; he was so freaking warm. And so naked.

“So I can move?” he asked.

“Please. Fuck, please do.”

And when he did…

You thought you felt him poking your guts. You knew that anatomically, that was a thing of impossibility.

But he was huge. Heavy. A big fat cock pushing into you in missionary, a hand parting your legs more and pressing them into the mattress.

With your eyes rolled towards the back of your head, you dug your nails into his torso; a little more insane with each rhythmic, punctuated thrust.

He reached so far inside you, fucking seriously—

And those words he uttered. The little praises. The tiny, “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Hell…

The alcohol and his body heightened your senses — you couldn’t remember a single affair from your past as rapturous as this one.

The way he provided reprieve, sliding in and out of the slippery smooth entrance. The way his pelvis brushed along your engorged clit. The way he moved swiftly, controlled, applying pressure at the perfect spots…

For someone who could barely think, you registered so many bodily sensations, the little details, how he felt and made you feel. Lighting up your nerves.

Your elevated breathing made your words more incomprehensible when you asked, “Can you go a bit faster? Ple—”

“Wait.” Reaching up, he grabbed one of the two pillows, a hand sneaking under your ass. “Lift.” You did, allowing him to place the cushion under your butt with a grunt. “Hold onto me, baby.”

The new nickname triggered another rush of blood through your body; your muscles tensed when he dug in deeper. Propelled into you harder. Still rhythmic, not jackhammering into you yet, but clearly faster.

And it was enough for you to call out his name.

Which set off another cascade of pleasurable phenomena; gentle tingling to waves of desire. Breathing a foreign concept when he pulled your mouth apart with a thumb, settling his lips between yours.

Tongues played a new game, lips moving to your jaw, back to your mouth; kissing you hard before they dropped to your tits. Suckling at your nipples, toying with oversensitivity.

Pushing you close to the edge as he separated your pussy folds more, dragging every protruding vein of his cock along your aching, lubricated walls.

Jungkook, you had concluded, was a Monster with a capital M. When you moaned for the thousandth time, he glanced at you — and you swore he looked like he wanted to bury his claws into your flesh. To rip you apart.

And you let him.

As your bodies’ movements synchronised, endorphins eliciting unmatched euphoria, half his weight dropped onto yours. His scent engulfed you, and you wrapped your legs around him, up his waist until you whimpered and whined.

“I’m…” he started; he was so hot against you. Bodies covered in sweat. “I love that so much. Those… fucking sounds.”

“Kook,” you murmured — no clue where the nickname had emerged from. But he seemed to like it; buried his fingers in your hair. “Are you getting tired?”

“I’m okay.”

“Can I—”

“You’re okay — you don’t… I mean, you don’t need t— fuck—”

Broken words and a steady rhythm. He felt so fucking good. Sounded even better. Deep sometimes, desperate and high other times.

“I want to,” you said, vocalisation increasing. “Let me do something.”

“What do you wanna do?” he asked.

Okay, another attempt.

“Wanna suck your dick.” His pounding calmed down. You’d struck a nerve. “And… want to come. And—”

“And?”

“Wanna be your slut until you come, too.”

Wait. What?

Where did that come from?

Your face heated up, cheeks and neck burning. Oh, he was gonna laugh at you; after all the bickering tonight, you could imagine that he would—

“Oh, babe…” is what he, however, babbled; dizzy beyond measure.

You had a similar hurricane whirling in your head.

“What?” you wondered.

“Didn’t think I’d find you calling yourself that so hot.” He pushed into you once more. Dragged his cock out and then in again languidly. “My slut, huh?” And then, he was gone. Your pussy pulsated. “Get the fuck up.”

You tried.

Your limbs were wobbly, struggling on the soft surface. And he kneeled over you, heaving his golden chest in exhaustion. His dick hung off his body, the condom drenched; thighs muscular and firm as he watched you fight your own feeble legs.

“C’mon,” he then said, growing impatient.

He grabbed you by your elbow, wrapping his fingers around your arm and gently tugged you up to your knees until you were facing him. Your nipples skimmed his sculpted pecs, one of his palms suddenly under your jaw, even if only for a second.

The touch affected you. Like he wasn’t done or bored yet; like he wanted more.

But—

“You don’t happen to have another condom on you?” he whispered, freeing your shoulders off your hair. He did it a lot, playing with your tresses.

Now that you were sitting up, not wrecked by him inside out, your head cleared a little. But it spun, too — you noticed for the first time in a while how slowly you were sobering up, and how blurred the world still was.

He held you; but you were swaying.

So his words felt like a fever dream to you — a strange question amidst all the mess.

“What?” you said, placing your hands on his stomach for support. “I don’t… I didn’t plan on hooking up with anyone.”

Unlike him.

“Well…”

“But I’m on the pill.”

“Oh.” He blinked. Looked at you, hands wandering to your back. He moved closer, the inches fading between you; and incredibly close to your face, he said, “Then we could just go ahead raw. Actually feel each other, right…?”

He pecked the apple of your cheek, gently but menacingly. Danger hiding in plain sight, yet disguised as innocence.

You didn’t answer. Kept staring until he kissed your jaw. Closed your eyes.

“Hm?” he voiced in question, but you didn’t quite know what to say — agreeing would’ve been stupid, but you didn’t want to stop. Plus, you were drunk and stupid.

In hindsight, you would’ve declined anyway; but when he chuckled, shaking his head, you were still relieved. Happy when he said, “I’m kidding.” He moved away, searching his jeans again. They were on the floor now. “I wouldn’t do this to a first-time-fling.”

First time?

Not like you were going to meet again. You were almost fully certain tonight was an exception. Odds bringing you together and saving you from this temporary misery.

In a while, you’d start your new semester and drown in new worries. This party would mean nothing anymore.

“Yeah,” you said.

“I should have another.” He dug into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his wallet and yet another condom. How many did he store there? “Last one. We’re lucky.” Oh. Okay.

He ripped off the soaked rubber, crumpling it up and stuffing it in the other pocket of his jeans. You cringed in disgust and disbelief, but then you remembered that he was nearly as gone as you; he’d regret it tomorrow, but not yet.

As he placed the condom next to his body, you inched towards him, close to the edge of the bed and ready to devour him.

If you’d known him a little longer, indulging in those shenanigans for some time, the thought of him bringing not one but two condoms to this party would’ve stung.

Because Jungkook had obviously thought this through. Or, as he’d said, at least considered it a possibility.

But you were too drunk, and he too much of a stranger — all you knew was that you wanted, needed to suck his dick.

“But not for too long, okay?” Jungkook pleaded, stroking his length just once. Looking down where you moved like hunting your prey. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

“But I’d love that.”

“Do not. I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, and then smiled, straight-forwardly admitting, “Because I’m not coming before you do.”

Jungkook, you’d noticed, didn’t care that you’d already experienced the high of your young life. You were sure you’d never feel such bombastic destruction anymore — but he still seemed to be opting for something far greater.

He truly did prioritise a partner’s pleasure. Left you envious of every one of his encounters before.

You pushed your hair to one side, positioning yourself and dropping low; his cock was way heavier in your palm when you touched it, only weightless when it jumped.

Your fingers grazed along a vein on the base of his shaft, your palm tickling his balls — he reacted.

“Alright,” you finally said before—

The low hum was melodious to your ears when you delivered a momentary kitten lick over his tip. And then, slowly, patiently, your tongue drifted up his shaft, just the sharp tip until you flattened it.

Your fingers gently snuck to his balls, barely touching as you kissed down his member and then repeated your actions; slow licks from bottom to top.

“That’s good,” Jungkook praised, stroking your ego, “really good, babe.”

Tingles down your spine. Beads of sweat on your forehead.

Jungkook’s hands pushed through your hair, collecting it at the nape of your neck to form a spontaneous ponytail. As the view became clearer to him, the volume of his voice grew — his groans and exclaims sounded beautiful.

And you kept focusing on him. On his reactions, on his body.

Opened your eyes and sought his gaze — pulling the ultimate trick out of your sleeve before you wrapped your mouth around the cock’s head.

And he liked it. He liked it very fucking much.

Enjoyed the slow pace, the way his dick disappeared in your mouth bit by bit until the gag reflex kicked in. You knew what you were doing; with that tongue swirling around, tracing his veins… hands teasing his balls, edging him to the max.

Eyes still on him, breathing through the nose, the tip of it touching his flimsy, trimmed hair.

Your tactic was doing wonders on him. Your enthusiasm was addictive.

And how could you not enjoy it? He was deliciously thick, big, promising. You wanted to swallow around him all night.

But just when he started choking, balls tightening impossibly, he pulled your head away.

His cock was shiny and drenched, much like your lips, drool spilling past them and to your chin.

“Gonna finish this,” he declared with a heavily falling chest, thumb wiping at the spit on your face, “so fucking done with you. Get on all fours for me?”

The contrast between his kind demands or actions and ruthless warnings was messing with you. Like he wanted to fuck you up, but never without consent.

Delightful. So damn delightful.

You listened immediately, turning until you faced the bed’s slat. Whoever this room belonged to, you were truly hoping they weren’t missing their bed. And you’d definitely need to take off the sheets later.

In this tiny moment, you felt bad.

But only until you heard him open the second foil, taking a couple moments to do whatever needed to proceed. You dropped half your body — partly, to allow a better view to your ass, and partly, because you were tired.

“‘Kay,” you then heard, soon feeling a touch along your spine. Tracing it down to the curve of your ass, moving closer and settling around your legs, pushing them together automatically. “So pretty.”

And this very position, just like that, allowed a hell of a lot more friction.

Because when he entered you again and resumed his strokes… your breathing stopped.

You bit your lip, balling up the sheets. Your jaw dropped, your body on fire; the way he gripped your hips, slowly pulling back before slapping his pelvis against your butt was…

Not bad, to say the least.

“Can you still think?” he asked; you weren’t quite sure he’d actually said it, though.

“Huh?”

Jungkook laughed; he sounded so sweet, so pure. So different from what he was doing, a lot more tender than his words, “Thought so.”

And definitely not as alluring as when he leaned in, wrapping an arm around your tits and another around your neck and pulled you up without a warning.

He pressed your back flush against his chest, and your arm flung back instinctively, around his head to draw him close. You didn’t know how he could muster so much strength, pounding into you in a position like this.

Upwards, constantly, consistently, keeping a hand on your neck as the other fell to your clit. You threw your head back; an open invitation to your shoulder and neck.

Like this, he didn’t reach as far inside you — but it was an utmost compliment to him that he was still large enough to affect you thoroughly. A Monster indeed.

His jabs were sharp, moving in and out unhindered; effortlessly. Only stopping a single time when his cock dropped out, and he immediately fell onto the mattress, stretching his legs in front of him and pulling you with him.

“Wait,” he breathed, helping you adjust and sit back on your throne. And this time, as you straddled him, shoving him inside you all the way, you felt him in your guts again. “Move. Come for me.”

Which wasn’t hard to do when he glued your body to his. Traced your cheek, nibbling at the earlobe, down to your jaw, down to your neck and shoulders.

His breath was hot against your flaming skin as you bounced up and down, uncontrolled moans mingling as he drew circles over your clit. Not too fast, not too slow, steady and skilled.

The peak of your pleasure was arriving when his sounds reached maximum intensity; he was close, too, endlessly moaning, chanting your name. Right into your ear, eyes shut tight, muffling his exclaims when he kissed under your ear or bit your shoulder.

“Fuck… fuckkk,” you cried out, muscles of your body contracting. “Close, Jungko—”

The build up was torture — it happened slow and fast at once, and you felt it clearly. It crept from your lower stomach to your pussy, and your walls clenched, your back arching and your body winding in his hold.

And then…

“My fucking god, you—” Jungkook began, irregularly breathing. He was losing it; so were you. “That’s it. That’s it… good. That’s a good girl, you—”

He spoke whatever. Talked you through the orgasm as it washed over.

Violently, hard.

Way worse — or better? — than the first one. Jeon Jungkook was unmatched; no one was going to fuck you this good again.

And a minute later, he followed up.

Let you fuck him, and then pistoned up into you when your body started giving up. And when his release finally occurred, you thought you were dreaming.

He sounded heavenly. His thighs were shaking; you wished you could've felt his hot seed, not separated by the thin condom.

But his voice… his breaths… the way he moved and held you.

They were worth it anyway.

A minute passed as you winded down; and after the mutual climax subsided, your bodies entered a state of deep relaxation and contentment. You felt it in the way his arms became limp, hands dropping to your legs.

Kisses lazy on your cheek. Strangely intimate.

You felt pleasantly fatigued, satisfaction flooding through your body. The internal rush of warmth radiated outwards; you could’ve stayed like this forever. So tired.

And a tiny bit later, he pulled out as he started softening inside you, pushing you forwards just a little to take off the condom, tie it up and throw it to the ground next to his jeans. Then, he pulled you back in.

For whatever reason.

Seeking warmth? Maybe.

You calmed down in his hold, and then said, “That was amazing.”

You felt the smile against your skin. He had let his face drop to your shoulder, and now spoke quietly and softly, “Because you were amazing. I reacted according to you all the time.”

“And I reacted according to you.”

Jungkook snickered. “We’re a good match, it seems, huh?”

You clicked your tongue, a hand on the arms around you. Slowly and carefully, you opened them, gently falling onto the mattress to get dressed. All of this was comfortable.

Too comfortable.

But you reminded yourself that he wasn’t more to you than a stranger temporarily turned party-friend. That’s what Jeon Jungkook would part from you as, too.

Why the fuck were you cuddling?

You looked back at him, eyes widening; and once you’d taken him in the near darkness, you laughed. Pointing at him with an amused, “You have lipstick all over your face.”

“Really?” He reached to his cheeks, wiping on the wrong side; you cackled a bit more. He nodded towards you. “Yours is very smeared, too.” Pause. An unblinking stare. “You look gorgeous.”

What? No.

Stranger, temporarily turned party-friend.

“Shit,” you cursed, “I have some in my bag, though. I guess we’ll need to take a look at a bathroom mirror anyway before we go downstairs.”

“Or upstairs.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook sighed. Shrugged his shoulders, lifting his arms to brush back his hair. The bicep flexed, and you forcefully averted your gaze from it. “Want me to do your make up?”

So lovely.

“Want me to do yours?” you said, legs flinging over the edge of the bed. You still felt a little weak. “You’d look very pretty in pink.”

He laughed; the way his head tilted was still so gorgeous. Movie-like.

“Maybe one day,” he said.

“Right. One day, yes?”

No.

You weren’t doing this to anyone like him. He was carefree, nice and enjoyed the little things in life. You weren’t going to be a burden to someone like him.

You didn’t speak on as you finally stood, trudging towards the bathroom belonging to this bedroom. As you collected your clothes, inspecting your ruined panties, he got up with a grunt, stating, “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

And the next minute happened quietly.

He helped you clean yourself, helped you get dressed. Caught you when you oscillated, holding your hair when you drank the water from the tap, sobering up just barely.

After all he’d done to you, the moment was incredibly serene.

And you couldn’t help but think that the connection was certainly there; blissful if you could truly continue it. Clicking with someone wasn’t easy these days, but Jungkook made it seem easy.

Like he’d known you for long, knew you inside out. Like he’d been part of you in a previous life.

You saw his messages the moment you woke up.

Hours later, and you’re still staring at them.

Jungkook [7:43PM]: I’m sorry. I’ll always care about you… and i never wanted to cause you any pain Jungkook [7:43PM]: just wanted to protect you from it

What a way he has to forgo heartache. Funny how it’s insanely present right now.

It doesn’t ease as you hear the desperation in his words. The regret and wish for an alternative reality. If last time wasn’t tattooed into your mind, you’d assume he wants you back.

Truly sucks to know a person well enough to hear their voice through typed text. It sucks, because when they’re not around anymore, their timbre is all that resonates in your head. All that’s left, really.

“Hey.”

The familiar baritone makes you flinch. He went to the tiny balcony a moment ago, inspecting the place, and you didn’t think he’d return already.

You were supposed to look around, too. The landlord left for a brief call, entrusted you with the empty rooms and unpolished parquet. You shouldn’t have wasted your time, you guess.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asks.

You dip your eyes in innocence when you look at him. With the shrug of a shoulder and a slight pout of your lips, you say, “Nothing.”

“Right.”

His side-eye feels like a warning; fleeting, however, as he turns away.

Relieved, your expressions drop again, shoulders falling limp with a sigh. But you don’t quite expect him to move his attention back to you a moment later, a hand on his hip as he catches your descending mood.

The silent stare takes you in thoroughly, studying your face until your eyes drop to the floor. And then, he dares a single step forwards and asks, “Hey. Are you okay?”

Stupidly enough, you retort with another lie, “Yes. Why?”

“You look disheartened. Do you not like the place?”

The place?

It’s still the same space that you approved the moment you stepped in. The same walls you can imagine a life between, away from pain, towards independence.

The ceiling is still at the same height, and when you look out of the sealed windows, you still see the same main street, a building on the other side of it.

The world around you is perfectly fine. Earth still spins at the same pace.

You do still like the place.

It’s just your heart that’s fickle.

“I do,” you say, “no, I can totally imagine being here.” You shift to the other leg, pushing half your fingers into your back pockets. “Anywhere but home, I think.”

“Okay. Do you want to look around more?”

You shrug. “I mean. It’s mostly empty. Except for the kitchen.”

“Which is great!” Taehyung says; his voice echoes off the walls. His smile is contagious, and his enthusiasm about your move flatters you. “Kitchens are expensive as hell.”

“Yeah.”

“I like it here, too. I love Yoongi, but moving here was the best decision of this year.”

Right. You almost forgot that they used to be roommates just a couple months ago.

Back when you made the pact with Jungkook, wasn’t it?

He’d tell you about their bickering at their small dorm again and again. Refreshing, little stories. You wonder how Yoongi feels now, alone at his place — did he ever mention settling somewhere else?

Maybe Jungkook did. Maybe Yoongi will once he’s fully recovered.

“Doesn’t have anything to do with Eun, does it?” you ask, a tiny glimmer in your eyes that must be the trigger for his blushing cheeks.

“Listen,” he says; the back of his hand rubs his face, as if he could rid it of the rosy dust like that. “At least one of you needs to be able to talk to either of us without mentioning… this.”

You laugh.

He isn’t wrong. It has become a running joke in your group; every couple teases the other. Of course you haven’t heard much of it lately — you’re more a victim to silence and moral lectures.

Which you appreciate.

But the recurring thought of this little group splitting… isn’t too nice.

“In any case, I’m happy for you,” you let him know.

“Thanks. It's been nice.” Odd expression; creased eyebrows and guilt in his big eyes. “But anyways—”

“You can talk to me about it, you know?” you assure immediately. Taehyung can’t help but notice the change in your voice. You sound different than a few weeks ago. “It won’t hurt me to know that you guys are doing okay.”

Maturity? Or maybe calmness. No.

What is it that your voice is dipped in?

“I know,” Taehyung promises, “I just… I don’t want you to feel like I’m bragging. And it makes me uncomfortable that two of my friends are…”

Unable to bask in joy.

Jungkook taught you things that life couldn’t — you could say that calling that influence temporary makes you uncomfortable, too.

“I don’t think you’re bragging, Tae.” You sigh. You hate talking about these things; which is dumb, because you were never one to close off. “Things work out for some and don't for others. That’s fine.”

But he isn’t done. They’re never done.

For a while, you weren’t, either. And right now, you’re caught in the middle — not on the ground, not in the ether.

Just confused. Blank.

“But…” he argues, “they can work out for you, too, you know.”

“Tae—”

“Did you go to the exhibit yesterday?”

You knew he’d ask.

Someone was supposed to — obviously not your parents, still upset deep within. Your house has always been a constant source of obscurity; the white walls don’t deceive you anymore.

The darkness always changes, though steady in gloom, and as you escape the current one, you seek comfort in a friend and the outside world. Questions like these, however, are seemingly still going to haunt you wherever you go.

“I didn’t,” you admit.

He must know, because he doesn’t look surprised.

But the emotion that this very truth evokes in you, a toss-up between feeling relieved and regretting your choice — he does see that goddamn pain.

“Maybe you should?”

It’s a careful suggestion. You don’t know what to do with it, except to ask, “Why?”

“Because he’s still waiting for you.”

It’s cruel. How such words still knock all air out of your lungs.

How those images hunt you down, circling your mind until you overthink them to death, or until they lose their meaning. You hate the ruthlessness of this bitter feeling, and of the sting in your chest, and the longing that it consequently triggers.

The clump in your throat blocks your ability of speech; laces up your tongue. You feel the imminent burst of sentiments in your chest, but then immediately hold it back the way you’ve done the last few days.

You work past the clogged throat, and then say, “He was the one who let me go.”

Holding shit back can be learned; you know how to keep yourself at bay in front of Taehyung.

But.

It still hurts.

“Mistakes happen,” he defends, ever the loyal friend, “he just… makes a bit more of them every now and then.”

You throw a mocking smirk, looking away with a slow blink. Your feet are aching; they want to carry you away.

To him. Home. Wherever you find solace.

How fucking tragic.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, hastening towards you, a grip around your wrist to turn you back to him. “Jungkook, he… has his reasons. Twisted ones but yet. Talking about everything might make it all easier for you.”

Communication is key, blah blah blah.

Once upon a time, you used to believe the same thing. Soft spoken and naive; filled with fears but hoping for the best.

You wondered, “What’s it, really?”

“Trust and stuff.”

Trust.

Thinking about it, you’d always put some of it in Jungkook’s palms.

Like a month ago. Or when you asked him to play pretend. When you stormed into his dorm room every time, and when you met him first, locked in that empty room.

You don’t know how the warmth of that night changed into the playful hostility once the semester started. Maybe because his competent side was a lot more infuriating than his drunk, frat party persona.

Maybe because he annoyed you on purpose, throwing away all pleasantries and sweet, tender words you’d exchanged on the roof. Or maybe because of the embarrassment near the end of the night, embroidered in your brain.

But you’ve always trusted him, you think.

“When I met him,” you say, “I didn’t think I’d ever find myself in such a situation.”

“What situation?”

“…Feeling all that shit for him. Mourning that loss. Just,” your breathing falls in rhythm, and you blink away the dampness. “Craving him, you know?”

Taehyung silences.

He looks at you with empathy and reassurance; a little bit of relief, happy you’re talking to him at all after the numbness you drowned in. Or like he’s caught you feeling something that he knows Jungkook feels, too.

He smiles, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Reminiscing, amused by the memories he never quite found as bad; and then, he asks, “Really, though?”

“What?”

“You never thought you’d ever be trapped in this moment, yeah?”

“Why…?”

“Because—”

His laugh is soft; for a second, he reminds you of the man you transiently saw that very night. Operating the music, careless of every single occurrence around him.

“I could already tell, you know?” Taehyung says. A tiny, nostalgic smile tugs at his plump lips. You lower your head to the dusty floor again. “Back at the frat party.”

Could he?

Not even you could detect a permanent feeling. A connection yes, but you were so sure you’d stick to that one night — you didn’t let yourself think further than that. Did you?

Because you were intoxicated by the booze and the summer air. The conversations and the touches. Jungkook’s scent.

Exclaiming his name while today, you can barely vocalise it.

“I was thinking about the frat party today, too,” you tell him.

He nods, glancing past you. Probably looking for the landlord who’s still not back.

And then, he continues, “When I saw you guys talking on the roof, I knew. I could just tell.”

“We weren’t in love or anything, Tae.”

“I know you weren’t. I mean, you didn’t look like you were, either. But you did look like you bonded… and that’s rare, you know? For people to still share that link after so long.”

“…Don’t know.”

Your stoic ignorance is frustrating. And new.

You’re not one to hide your emotions. Usually open with your happiness and open with your grief.

“Go today,” Taehyung suggests again, puffing out air, “to the exhibition, I mean. Play around with your choices, okay?” Silence. A press of your lips. You don’t answer, and he can’t read your mind; so he doesn’t prod, and asks instead, “Why were you thinking about the party?”

Easy: because, distraction.

“I was cleaning,” you answer, “clearing my head. Found an old diary while dusting.”

Which was a pure coincidence. It wasn’t supposed to fall into your hands, and you weren’t supposed to open it. Seek out the pages you subconsciously still knew were there.

Why were you cleaning your desk anyway? It was flawlessly organised, dusted by a trusted staff.

It’s crazy.

Insane how even in the tidiest corners of your room, he’s left a mess.

“Okay,” Taehyung simply says, “anyway. Please think about going tonight. And on another note… do think about this place, too. I think it could do you good. And it’ll be nice to have a friend nearby.”

And that’s it. You leave the building with a thankful nod and a genuine smile.

Only to fall into deep contemplation when you arrive home.

Could tonight change something? The way the party did last year?

What exactly did the two of you say to each other? Does Taehyung know it all? Does Jungkook? Perhaps you do, too — maybe you need to dig far enough.

Brooding on the corner of your bed, you shake your head. Get to your feet, scouring your desk, reaching to the very back of every drawer and scanning through every file. Notebook. Diary.

And you don’t stop until minutes have passed, ripped pages falling out of a second semester course book. Its edges are worn out, carried in your bags a hundred times.

But the pages are intact. As slightly yellow as the other ones. You knew you didn’t throw them away.

There it all is; less descriptions, more dialogue — you were tired out, yet kept going.

There, the narrative continues.

Because on that goddamn roof, I think… that Jeon Jungkook truly saw me. You know, it’s been so long since someone did.

The light air brought relief from the day’s heat.

You couldn’t remember how he’d persuaded you to climb up to the attic and then out of its window, leading to a platform to sit on. But as you revelled in the ambient sounds of chatter and distant laughter, you couldn’t complain.

And Jungkook’s conversations kept lulling you into a state of tranquillity. You had no clue how he did it.

“I can do a handstand, and I can show you,” he said; why you’d slipped into talks about athletics, you can’t recall.

“No. You’ll die.”

He laughed, his smirk ever-present. “Would you care?”

You eye-rolled at him, instantly regretting it when the world started spinning again. The effects of the booze were dwindling, but you weren’t quite there yet. Your head and eyes still felt heavy, your tongue still loose.

Maybe he registered your drowsiness, because he soon suggested, “You should go home.”

“I’m okay,” you, however, argued. The night was too serene. “I’m sobering up a little.”

“You look tired, though.”

His words triggered a reflex, and you yawned on cue — unable to hide your fatigue, you admitted, “I am.”

Jungkook drifted closer, arms touching; his voice was light as the wind, and his suggestion as teasing as it was soft, “Wanna sleep on my shoulder?”

“Nah,” you declined, playfully pushing at him, “we’re not that close.”

“We did fuck each other’s brains out just now, though.”

A pleasant reminder, but wholly unnecessary. You doubted you’d ever forget the insanity that transpired downstairs — and once again, you felt incredibly sorry to Yeonjun for ruining one of his bedrooms.

You shuddered.

“We… hooked up,” you argued, muffling a laugh when he scoffed.

“Alright. Whatever.”

His syllables carried a chuckle; contagious and captivating. Mixed with your own, it dragged into the next seconds, lingering as you enjoyed the breeze. Rocking back and forth, gazing up into the vast darkness.

You barely saw the stars in the city and on campus. That’s why you liked those outskirt houses; the sky was clearer here, not disturbed by city lights and their reflection.

And for as long as you were going to remain here, you decided to keep your eyes glued to the glimmer above. Watched it with a melodious hum. They twinkled one after another, like winking, whispering confessions to you from the cloudless, infinite expanse.

Pretty and soft; painting a full picture along with the sliver of the moon you saw. A celestial, silver beacon.

You smiled.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Jungkook said.

Your instrumental died, though one last sound indicated a question, “Hm?”

“You’re liking it here.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Your eyes narrowed in wonder, head on your shoulder. “Why would I not?”

“No, I just mean…” He moved his feet on the platform, shoving them forwards. “You looked different when you got here. Not too happy about tonight.”

“Oh. Right… I’m sorry if it dampened the mood.”

But he shuffled on his spot, wrapping an arm around one angled leg, dropping the other and fully turned towards you. Guaranteed, “No, it’s okay. You were perfectly fine throughout the entire night.”

With him.

“I did have fun,” you said.

“Did seem like it.”

You delivered a hazy nod, blinking your tired eyes.

Even today, you remember the silence that descended, and remember how comfortable you deemed it.

Despite the haven that the roof had become in record time, the retreat couldn’t keep your mind off the bustling world anymore. Thinking about it, even the existence you’d bolted from resided at a suburbian, quiet place like this.

He swam in money, just like you, and you’d seen a similar greenery and heard a similar quietude as you were here. Yet, being with him didn’t compare to being with Jungkook.

Why?

Maybe because that friend understood your lifestyle too well, but not your emotions.

You clicked your tongue, peeking at Jungkook. He lifted his head at the sound, big eyes questioning; and after a moment of contemplation, you finally said, “There’s this guy.”

His ears perked up.

He sat straight, never questioning where it came from; instead, he listened as you spoke, “He and I hooked up during freshman year and then not too long ago. We met through friends, and he’s just… you know, an amazing person and all. Takes care of me and texts me and… keeps asking how I’m doing.”

Fingers of your hands locked, arms firmly enclosing your bare legs.

“He takes my ideas and thoughts and tries to make them more optimistic. Or attempts to actively talk about my flaws. To fix them.” You met Jungkook’s eyes, tender and attentive. “He gives me advice all the time.”

“But?” Jungkook asked. “I think there is a but.”

“Well…” You sucked air through your teeth. “He said he wants to be with me. And I told him that I don’t.”

“Oof…” He grimaced before he hissed, voicing deep empathy for a man he didn’t know. “But why?”

Jungkook was a stranger, but you talked like a soft, hushed waterfall. He emanated a sense of trust; some magic that permeated the air.

You felt comfortable.

“I tried, it’s just. I might sound ungrateful, but I think I’d… rather like someone who wants to love and appreciate me instead of trying to fix me all the time,” you confessed.

There was a hint of annoyance in your voice and you hated yourself for it. The man in question was heavenly — just not ideal for you.

“He is a sweetheart. Keeps buying me gifts and all, but… I think I’m a construction site to him. And that,” you snickered, sporting what you were sure was a sombre expression, “keeps reminding me that I actually am.”

Jungkook paused. You didn’t blame him — it was a sudden revelation, and his possibly still tipsy brain couldn’t quite fathom his thoughts into a response just yet.

He smacked his lips; you’d seen him do it a couple times today. Bangs flew into his face, his eyes suddenly sentimental.

And then he told you, “I understand.” He thought again, looking past you. “I wouldn’t call it ungrateful. I mean, you are thankful for him as a person, yeah? Your personalities and ideologies don’t have to align, y’know? That shouldn’t be an expectation.”

“…Yeah.”

Time ran differently now. The movements you saw in the garden were in slow-motion, but in this dreamscape that the roof was, where you laid out every damn word haunting your mind, the world suspended in time.

It was solacing in some way. Your heart was still clouded, but… you didn’t feel horrible anymore.

“So that’s what you were escaping tonight. Still are,” Jungkook then concluded.

Your mind suddenly raced.

Back to the first words you exchanged with Jungkook; back to the reason for you coming here tonight; back to how delighted your parents seemed when you first mentioned Jung Hoseok.

When Hoseok had stepped over your threshold for the first and only time, back during freshman year, they’d enjoyed the sole glimpse of him. Had adored that he’d brought you a silver bracelet, because it showcased wealth.

If you’d let them, they'd have interviewed him — nevermind that he was just a rare hook up and you barely even knew what his parents did.

Lawyers, weren’t they? He’d mentioned lawyers at some point, you thought.

You’d kept it lowkey; away from the campus. You hadn’t imagined he’d come back this year, whirling your thoughts, lost in freshman nostalgia.

To you of all people; and he knew so many. Which is why you didn’t mention his name to Jungkook — judging his and Hoseok’s popularity, they probably knew each other.

“I just feel… terrible,” you eventually said, “because I know he likes me, and I can’t quite say why. We just kept meeting over the years, so—”

“You don’t owe anyone anything,” Jungkook interrupted. “Like, I’d feel bad, too, but… if the reciprocation isn’t there, it’s not there. And it sucks but that happens sometimes. Things don’t always work out.”

“Yeah. It’s worse when they could, but don’t.”

Jungkook’s demeanour changed. A fog of melancholy settled in his gaze, brief but impactful. If you’d been fully clear-headed, you might’ve registered the slight flinch.

For a second, he didn’t expand on his thoughts, voicing a simple, “Mhm.”

But as the air thinned, affecting his chest and his mind, he couldn’t help but think back to how life had developed for him. From when he was a child and had spotted broken relationships to shattering his own.

Under easier circumstances, love could work. Why had he always been a witness to it crumbling?

“Jungkook.”

Your voice broke his trance. You watched him drift more and more into it, and now that he was awake again, his muscles relaxed. He smiled a little, and then asked, “I can vent if you did, right?”

Eyebrows flashing up, you stared in silence; you didn’t expect this.

“Yeah. Of course,” you said, legs unconsciously lowering towards his. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. Pressed his lips into a thin line; your eyes fell to his mole, and then back to his starry pupils.

Half distraught, half calm — much like you — he began, “One reason why I left that girl downstairs standing was because… she was looking for the first best thing tonight.”

“…What do you mean?”

God, for someone who’d been cheerful all night, he looked incredibly downbeat right now. You felt sorry without knowledge of the context.

He shifted.

“I separated from my ex a while ago. That girl,” he nodded towards the window you’d climbed through, into her general direction, “she knew. And she wanted to use my,” he made air quotes, “loneliness to have fun.”

“That’s… terrible. I’m sorry about your ex.”

Jungkook kissed his teeth, shaking his head, “Nah… we parted on good terms. I just regret that we let the end of it all drag for so long.”

“Hmm,” you hummed. You wrapped your arms tighter around your legs. “Do you miss her?”

Prolonged silence later, you darted your head in his direction; he was squinting his eyes in thought. And then, he inhaled the summer air, and said, “Sometimes.” Pause. Then, “Sometimes I miss feeling like I’m… enough for someone.”

Enough for someone. Right for someone.

Jungkook wasn’t missing her. He was missing being loved.

“Time heals all wounds,” you said, nudging his chest, “etcetera.”

With a rub over his pecs, he tugged his lips to a crooked smile, promising you sincerely, “That goes for you, too.”

The exchanged beams introduced another break in conversation.

There’d been a dozen of those pauses today, but none of them had felt out of place. In fact, you felt at peace. Tonight was a respite from the demands of everyday life, because pain faded away.

The still bubble of comfort around you felt like a sanctuary; you appreciated the simplicity of the present.

You thought, there was something about the air. And the stars. And all those scents.

Fitting to the softness of his voice when he eventually spoke, “Hey… You were humming a song just now. When you were looking up?”

“Oh, uh…” You thought about it, rewinding time; he was right. You remembered the melody. “Maroon 5, was it?”

“I think so. How does it go again?”

“Uhm…” Putting you on the spot like this, you forgot every word of the song. You mumbled the melody, du-du-du-ing your way to the first verse, and then sang, “Beauty queen of only eighteen, she—”

His face lit up.

“Had some trouble with herse— yeah!” His finger conducted the two of you through the song before he wiggled it. “Yes, but there’s that part. The ugh— bridge? It’s my favourite part.”

“Uhm, wait.” Fast forwarding, you sang your way through the chorus, close to the bridge until it dawned on you. “Out in the corner in the… broken smile— ah, yeah. I know where you hide, alone in your car.”

Jungkook got into gear, sitting up properly, nearly shifting off the platform. Instinctively, you grabbed his wrist, but he was too into his narrative to acknowledge it, “Yes! Ah, I love that part so much. My mom used to sing it with me when I was in elementary school.”

He was so fucking sweet.

Contrary to every touch he’d delivered today, he was like a puppy. Forlorn and pure and kind.

“That’s so nice,” you said, nodding when he did, watching as he prepared his vocal cords.

“Know all of the things that make you who are— that’s what it was, yeah? I know that goodbyes—”

And then you broke into a duet, falling into a rhythm… catching strangers’ attention wandering around the house’s garden. You weren’t loud enough to disturb the party, but you did see a flash of smile here and there towards you.

Your singing and laughter grew in pitch; you started the last line but never finished it. Instead, you quieted down, hearing his timbre indulge in the song; his eyes were closed and his head tilted. An incomparable spell in his voice.

“—Catch her everytime she… falls.”

Omitting Adam Levine’s soft Yeahs, Jungkook replaced them with hums, and for the teeny tiniest of moments, your heart jumped.

Radiant warmth spread in your lungs. It surrounded your beating organ and tied your throat, and against all you’d expected today, you wondered—

Did temporary, fleeting party-hook-up crushes exist?

As he finished, leaving out the rest of the song, you told him, “You sing well.”

An understatement, but he took it anyway. Blushed a bit as he said, “Thank you.” And then, “Why this song of all you might know?”

Why this song?

You didn’t know. Because you’d grown up with it. Because every second of it, every beat, every melancholic word about hopeful love resonated with you.

“Because,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. A weak smile took over your features. “She shall be loved? Everyone shall be loved.”

Jungkook deadpanned at you. Glassy-eyed. For a couple heartbeats, he blinked at you, and then he broke into a chuckle.

You puffed out a breath; the desire to end the night vanished bit by bit.

That was, until another doom crawled around the corner.

Whenever a day passes flawlessly, misery is close, and this time, it arrived in the form of an older, equally drunk male friend of Jungkook’s.

It was the guy who’d DJ’d prior that night; the one with the deep velvety voice, ogling up at you with a hand in his pocket and a cup in his hand. He made you wonder where your friend was.

Had Eun left any messages? Perhaps it was you standing her up now; you hadn’t checked the device in a while.

From the garden, the dude — Taehyung, was it? — squinted up into the sky, yelling over the sounds, “Aren’t you the girl from before?” He pointed between Jungkook and you. “What are you two doing up there?”

You felt enthusiasm in your veins. Rapture, leaving your nerves alight. Despite all the sentimental talk, you remembered again that your filter was long abandoned, and with a dazy mind, you leaned forwards.

In hindsight, you shouldn’t have gotten more of that liquid bullshit after your hook-up. Jungkook had insisted on it — perhaps you should’ve gone for water and sobered up properly.

But as sloshed as you were, you brought out your funny bones, half your body dangerously pressing against the platform as you exclaimed, “I was having the time of my life with this one.”

A thumb pointed back to Jungkook — if you’d seen the man’s expression, you might not have risked your well being like that. Because his hands floated over you, finally gripping your sides with knitted eyebrows when you moved further forwards.

“Hey,” he called quietly, but you were already immersed in the conversation with Taehyung.

“He wanted me to suc—”

“—ceed in every aspect of life!” Jungkook wrongfully finished, leaning in to whisper to you, “I don’t think you should be saying this.”

Okay. Maybe he was a little more conscious about the situation; but you felt too ecstatic to lay down your jokes.

Grave mistake.

People started turning to you. Heard you clearly.

Taehyung, in his own world, still understood, ignoring Jungkook and asking with a laugh, “Really? Lucky son of a bitch.” He halted, and then pointed a finger at you, “Are you the Charmante girl?”

“Uh-uh,” you rejected, “not tonight.”

Fuck.

Even today, you’re adamant on keeping this part of your memories locked.

Because in a few moments, a mess would occur, followed by Jungkook’s kindness, and it would mentally make you push him away.

You just never expected to see him again in the fall.

During senior year, you concluded that he didn’t deserve the chaos of your world, fearing that your connection might destroy the both of you. But throughout all these months, your heart only held back until it couldn’t.

And today, he has wreaked havoc in it anyway.

“How so?” Taehyung asked.

“Because,” you asked. Stress and hangover incoming. Words a rich, popular future heir like you definitely wasn’t supposed to utter. “Fuck that imperium for tonight, okay!”

“Hey—” Jungkook’s voice again. “Lean back. Don’t do this.”

Taehyung shook his head, slowly caught in the awkwardness you called forth. Your deep-rooted trauma was doing a number on you, and you didn’t seem to realise just yet.

“You should go home,” Taehyung suggested; the second tonight.

Why did they want you to leave so bad?

Cocking an eyebrow, you looked at him weird, stoically staying at your place as you bantered, “I don’t want to.”

“I… I think you should, though?”

“You try going home to misery,” you said, laughing through the ache creeping up. Shit, shit. “I’m fine riding his di—”

“Stop it!”

The firm warning pumped sudden intimidation through your body.

Jungkook said it through gritted teeth, hissing it, a sliver of a grunt in his voice. His hands tightened around you and pushed you back up, catching you when you swayed over the edge.

He was irritated; and you were baffled. Puzzled by his concern.

You creased your eyebrows and gulped. Jungkook knew who you were; had confirmed that he did — but he hadn’t spoken about it a single time tonight.

Was he trying to protect you? Why was he trying to protect you?

“What the hell was that?” he asked, lifting his hands off your body.

You didn’t answer.

In fact, you didn’t quite understand the worries anyway. Yes, you had a reputation, but it wasn’t like anyone on campus cared. Right?

Wrong.

Because when you looked down, registering a faint chatter, you froze. Understood why Jungkook had constantly held you back. And why loosening your tongue had been a bad idea tonight.

You wished you could’ve gone back to singing with him. Not live through… whatever crap you’d caused. Nothing you would’ve done on any other day.

But Taehyung had been talking to you — you weren’t thinking anything of it.

The others, however, were. In fact, they were still laughing and recording when they looked down, some of them shamelessly filming with the flashlight on, pointing in your direction.

And there were quite a few of them…

“Wait,” you muttered, eyes flitting from one stranger to another.

Eun had to be inside, because you couldn’t find her face among them. It took a moment — but then, it started sinking in.

“Oh,” you said, and Jungkook, helpless, kept looking at you. “Oh fuck, no.”

“They won’t do any—”

“No.”

Your body felt immobile and it took more exclaims from downstairs that certainly weren’t Taehyung’s to finally move.

As your limbs came alive, you rushed your way back into the attic; humiliated, fire in your cheeks.

Your legs felt wobbly, but adrenaline kept you on your feet. Your mind awoke, your eyes burning. It took a moment to realise you had Jungkook in tow, storming downstairs with you; he was saying something, a soft hand on your elbow that you shook off in panic.

You’d done this to yourself. Stupidly, idiotically.

Never, never in a million years could you’ve opened your mouth like this in a sober state. You’d trained for this, for fuck’s sake. Knew media attention and how to behave.

The descent to the ground floor took ages; or so it felt.

You traced the faces of the people you’d seen from the roof. Nonstop thoughts of regret flooded you — in the contentment Jungkook’s presence had wrapped you in, you’d lost track of reality.

And now you were rushing from person to person, vehemently warning them and begging them to not put that shit online.

Only to meet a worse fate.

One that, within a moment and without a warning, arrived in the form of a plastered party-goer. Shoulders clashed until you stumbled and fell against a neck-high object. Synthetic plastic bounced against your body, the inflatable pool filled with water and people.

Had they been swimming all night?

Had this thing always been here?

Did it matter anyway when a wave of water broke out of the pool, splashing onto you and half your torso? Probably not.

What mattered was that you were drenched immediately. That Jungkook was still calling your name, albeit further away from you now. Or that a random guy was whistling, mumbling something about your white, soaked top.

Fuck…

Your head darted around; you pushed wet strands out of your face. You weren’t entirely dripping, but enough for people to remember for a while. That was, if they could recall tonight the next day at all.

And if they couldn’t, they’d have it on their damn phones…

Seeking the light crowd, you found Jungkook near the entrance to the house.

He was throwing an empathetic smile, eyebrows scrunched; nibbled at his lower lip and then—

Walked away.

One blink and gone.

You were disappointed. A little hurt. The connection you’d shared felt trivial now; had you enjoyed tonight just to be abandoned by every friend you’d come with or met?

Tears burned in your eyes, there without a notice. In your helplessness, you stood in the middle of the garden. A few people felt sorry for you — you knew.

And other, selected, a handful ones were too drunk to remain respectful.

The attempt to ignore them remained futile; they kept going.

You tried to search for the elusive people who’d recorded you; another handful who had now vanished into thin air again. Hiding their phones to evade you.

And when your search turned out fruitless, you redirected your attention to instead. She had to be nearby. Or Jimin; you hadn’t seen him tonight at all.

Just as you opted to enter the house, a stranger touched your bicep; reacting swiftly, you instinctively dodged his touch. Disgusted and weirded out.

He didn’t attempt to reach out again, but his persistence to struck your nerves was overwhelming; awkward as he tried to compliment, “That was kinda hot of you to say up there.”

To say what?

That you were a victim to your own imperium — that you were seeking company in others?

What was?

Twisted people, you didn’t understand — as much as you didn’t comprehend your own stupidity.

Your fucking fault.

Feeling a wave of chagrin wash over you, you hurriedly made your way to the door, hoping for another escape; hearing another dumb, “Listen, I’m not trying to offend you, but you—”

The sentence dangled in the air; broken by a sudden interruption. Raw cotton grazed your arm as Jungkook stepped next to you, a white towel thrown over his hand as he intervened, “Enough, man. Don’t.”

His tone was gentle, but held a fragment of a warning. Like he was annoyed, frustrated; tired of the people here.

Surprise was an understatement of a word to you.

There he truly was…

He handed the towel to you wordlessly, a hand on your back. Looked at you with a nod and concern in his eyes. You sighed in light relief, though cringing internally as the water trickled down your spine.

Jungkook sensed your unease immediately; said your name as if to take you away the moment you heard Eun’s voice.

In that moment of gratitude, you felt a renewed sense of a link to him — oddly calm as you said, “Thank you.”

The room you stand in is dark.

You’ve walked through several bright and vibrant halls, passing modern pieces. The ceiling was high so far, so this very room, containing art of the stars and nebulas, hit pleasantly with change.

The dimmed lights match the mood of the paintings; and you’ve noticed that visitors are way quieter in here than they were before.

Probably inhaling the silence of space and time. Diving into a world unknown with a curious fascination.

You glance at your watch, squinting to make out the tiny hands — half an hour left until closing time.

Drawing the millionth breath of this evening, you let your arm drop, curling and uncurling your fingers with a sickening feeling in your stomach. Lightly, you rub the spot, head darting left and right.

For some reason, you expect him in this room.

You can’t quite guess what he might’ve come up with after all; the exhibition showcases various genres and styles, and you haven’t found the room exhibiting his creativity yet.

Seems this isn’t the right place to look either. And you’re getting more nervous with each step.

You scold yourself. This better have been the right decision, because you don’t think you’ll be able to opt out anymore.

Your soul is still fractured and afraid; but Taehyung’s words float in your mind. Perhaps this will do something. Make clear that you should stay away. Or make clear that you shouldn’t.

Wrapping your arms around your body, you pass more art, more fresh artists, moving to the next room; irritated by how far he seems and of how cold it is here. Museums and their exaggerated air conditioning.

But the shiver the cool air elicits doesn’t compare to the white, blinding, bustling hall. This must be where the main attractions are displayed. Namjoon’s pride, you imagine.

Because people are still talking to the artists. Fingers on their chin, nodding; fancy tote bags and interested hand gestures prove that they’re fat greater art connoisseurs than you.

You don’t need to comprehend techniques and art jargon, though.

All you need to understand is that in the middle of the room, many feet away from you, stands who you seek. Suit-clad, though he has discarded the black jacket, he’s nodding towards other guests, smiling softly to send them away.

They point to his work one last time, and the next moment, they’re chatting among themselves, walking on.

He’s deep in the moment, tracing their steps, frozen in place.

And you, looking at him from afar, are frozen in time. Like everyone around you is barely moving.

Only your blinking eyes. Only his legs as they shift the balance. And then, only his head when he finally averts his gaze and lets it drift over the room. Stops when he sees you, and…

Remains there.

Your heart jumps; the twisting guts melt and dissipate. Fingers start shaking.

The knot in your throat won’t let you breathe properly; and you think he must be struggling much like you, because even from here, you see him gulp hard.

His longing, sorrowful gaze is killing you. Are you looking at him the same way?

Unsure, you close the gap between your bodies. Slowly, you near him until you’ve become his official guest, taming a wild heart with tense eyebrows.

He’s looking at you like he’s scared to blink. Like you might vanish if he does.

And eventually, you muster the tiniest of smiles, not letting those big, stellar eyes drop you to your knees. But they’re relentless. And…

Red. A little swollen.

“Hey,” you say.

He doesn’t bother for a greeting aside from a little nod. His pink lips are slightly parted, his expression so innocent; so achingly pure. And his voice so weak when he says, “You came.”

“I… almost didn’t.”

He nods lightly, much in understanding. “…I’m glad you did. I’m sorry if my message put you under pressure, I ju—”

“No, no, I thought that— Taehyung told me you’d like it if I dropped by,” you say. Your words are dipped in courage; if he wasn’t looking at you like a yearning puppy, you might not have muttered them. “And also…”

You drop your head, clutching the straps of your purse.

Try not to think of who the both of you used to be.

You clear your throat, gaze flickering up. “I want you to know that I still support you.”

Those puffy cheeks and the younger face, lacking a smile — you’ve only seen that expression before as he slept. When you woke up next to him, observing his dozing form. How helpless he looked. So faultless.

You now know that Jeon Jungkook isn’t perfect, either. But despite all that — or perhaps because of all that — you crave him more.

Because he’s always known he makes mistakes; yet, he’s always been your steadfast anchor.

And maybe that’s all that love ever requires.

No.

Don’t fall back into a spiral.

“Thank you,” Jungkook says. “This means a lot coming from you.”

The first button of his shirt is open; you see the chest rising. The mole on his neck. Last week, in that dark alley, your palm was still covering it. And now, you’re standing at a safe distance.

“So…”

You move, looking past him. The first thing your eyes settle on is a smaller painting.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up, and his tangled fingers let go of each other, open palms gesturing you closer. He steps aside and says, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, please take a look.”

He’s nervous. You hear it in his voice.

Why, though?

There’s no need, considering how gorgeous the sunset is. Perhaps a little standard for such exhibitions, but it still carries his touch. The preciseness and soft details.

You lean in, taking in the colours he worked with. There’s no skyscraper or traffic light in sight — the scenery differs a lot from the city you know.

“Is that your hometown?” you ask.

There are white fences and wide fields. Trees afar, a cottage at the right of the canvas. In the right bottom corner, you see a fluffy little cloud, white and serene.

“It is. Not exactly where I live but… a little outside of it,” Jungkook explains, shifting close enough for his shirt to brush against your elbow. You shiver. “I used to ride my bike to this place and watch the sunset. Took me twenty minutes to get there, so my parents weren’t always too happy about it.”

You laugh quietly, straightening your stance again. Pointing to the tiny cloud, you guess, “And this? Gureum, was it?”

He keeps looking at you. You don’t notice until you register his silence; eventually meeting his gaze that screams affection and tenderness.

Whispers, You still remember.

He catches himself within a second, and then says, “Yeah. Gureum. I’d sneak him into the bike basket and take him with me. He’d enjoy the wind. Jump around there,” he nods to the place in the painting, “and enjoy dusk with me.”

“So sweet.”

You hum in pleasure, ready to move to his other piece.

Most of the artists here are boasting two pieces; some one big object, some several smaller ones. Jungkook settled on the choice in the middle; and you immediately realise that his second work is far more elaborate, in details and in size.

And you’d voice fascination, gasp in admiration — you swear you would.

But what awaits you instead is a masterpiece that renders you mute; baffled, and maybe a little heartbroken.

Because you immediately know what it is.

You remember it from a foggy memory; not too long ago but eternities away.

That day, you brought him and his new boss Namjoon lunch. You chose to barge in as a surprise, sitting on Namjoon’s couch, eyes flitting from artistic canvases to dirty brushes.

Back then, you properly talked about Gureum for the first time. Jungkook was working on drawings, carrying around his sketchbook. You swore you saw a glimpse of something familiar flashing that day, but Jungkook closed the book too quickly for you to decipher it.

And now, it’s here. A damn painting on a museum wall.

A pretty artwork for anyone else, a young, incredibly skilled artist’s talent. But to you…

To you, it’s a peek into what you used to be. And proof of what you’ve become.

You’re hurting. You’re fucking hurting.

“Jungkook…” you choke. You keep staring at it; blink twice; shake your head in disbelief and then voice, ”Wait, what?”

He doesn’t respond. Facing the ground, he’s wading through the pain silently; his bangs are covering his eyes. But your emotions are swimming at the surface of your pupils, an absolute mess.

“Jungko—”

“I had a full speech prepared yesterday, you know?” he says, looking to the side. His jutting lower lip makes your chest burn. “But you didn’t come, and… now you’re here and—” He brings an inked hand to his eyes, rubbing them for a moment. “Now I can’t fucking think.”

You can’t either.

“I didn’t know how to come,” you admit.

You gulp down the tears, looking back to the painting.

The background is blurry, like a rainy window. In focus, you see two hands reaching out to each other. One’s palm facing up, the other’s towards the ground.

Fingertips are inches apart, delivering the illusion that they’re touching without ever doing so. His must be the hand hovering over the softer one. And the latter… It's you. Isn’t it?

Digits reaching out to him, never quite grasping him — the same bracelet around your wrist that he brought you from his vacation among so many other things. Blue and sparkly, no actual gemstones but gorgeous nevertheless.

And in your hand—

Forget-me-nots, slowly drying.

Your memory might not be serving you right, but you think that the brief peep you caught back in Namjoon’s studio was fully blue. Have the flowers withered in his mind?

“What does that mean…” you whisper.

You think you know. But you still wait.

Yet, the only hint Jungkook gives you is, “I had this idea in my head… and the night we drove to that small town and I gave you those forget-me-nots? The way you held them got stuck in my mind and—” He shakes his head. “I knew I wanted to paint them like this.”

“But… you didn’t.”

“Because…” He shrugs his shoulders, but the gesture is anything but nonchalant. The melancholy in his eyes betrays him. “Things changed.”

Right…

That’s why the flowers wilted.

Don’t those blue wonders signify remembrance? True love and devotion?

Does Jungkook think you’re forgetting him? Or that your devotion is fading? That whatever tied you two together is diminishing…?

Whatever used to be a symbol of blooming endearment is now a metaphor for broken hearts.

But you bite back the sentimental talk, the questions and statements infiltrating your mind. Keep them in, for your and his sake. Hearts need to stay glued together for as long as possible.

No scene in front of a crowd.

So you say, “In any case… It's beyond impressive. You painted it beautifully.”

Jungkook sighs; recovering from the tension of the moment, and then answers, “Thank you. Since I had you in mind, I’m… honestly glad you came.”

“…Of course. Thank you, too.”

The moment you gulp, more people approach Jungkook’s spot. They’re talking to each other before they greet the artist, flashing tender smiles.

When they immerse themselves in his paintings, murmuring something not directed to either of you, you ask, “Should I go?”

But Jungkook’s reluctance emerges immediately. His eyebrows skyrocket, chest tensing; his words are rushed when he tells you, “Oh, you don’t…! You can stay.”

You look around. The hall is emptying; security is leading people out, probably informing them of closing time. And suddenly, you remember that Jungkook doesn’t possess a car.

“Did you take the bus here?” you ask.

“Yeah.”

“…I could bring you home.”

Why are you suggesting this? Are your lungs not failing you enough? You’re on edge as it is.

And even when he assures, “You don’t have to,” you shake your head, softly promising that, “Yeah, but it’s no problem. If you want.”

With his turn to glance around, Jungkook licks between his lips. Then, he sneaks a look at his watch, contemplating before he says, “The museum closes in ten minutes, and then I’ll need to find Namjoon. Wrap it all up and stuff. Are you uh… okay waiting for half an hour?”

Are you?

Despite all the pain? You shouldn’t be. But for him… achingly and stupidly, you are.

“Yeah,” you voice, keeping your tone stable. You’re dying of nervousness. “I am. If that’s okay.”

Jungkook nods, stepping to the guests; seems they have a question, waiting for their turn. So he redirects his focus again, giving you a little, “Alright. Thank you again.”

But without ever letting his attention fall from you fully. Not even when you finally step away.

The noises of the streets and vehicles keep the silence away.

Music quietly sounds from the radio, and your finger taps the steering wheel slightly to its beat. Jungkook is staring ahead, sometimes looking out of the window; probably as unsure as you about what to say.

The car comes to another halt in front of a red traffic light, and the silence increases your discomfort. From the side, you watch for a tiny moment as he cards his fingers through the soft, long hair.

And involuntarily, you think back to when you’d bury your fingers in them, too. Would pull him to your lips like that; hear him hold his breath.

Your body trembles, goosebumps on your arms.

You immediately rub at them, focusing on the green light, and once the car comes back into motion, you tell him, “You should save up some money and get a car, too.”

He nods, barely looking at you as he responds clipped, “On it.”

“It’s just late.”

“You don’t need to worry about me. And it’s not that late at a—”

“Just,” you interrupt. He’s right — it’s not too late in the evening. But fall is approaching, and the sky is grey; the sun hides these days. “I’d feel better if you had a car.”

You’re aware that it doesn’t matter what you think or feel anymore, but your concerns still seem to resonate with him; maybe he’d feel the same towards you, too. Because he assures softly, “I’m working on it. Don’t worry.”

Another pause in conversation. Another five minutes pass in silence.

Half of the distance to his place conquered, you grow more nervous by the second. This isn’t a casual get-together or you calmly bringing him home.

Right here, next to you, is literally the man you fell for.

Who confessed his feelings in the pouring rain. Who kissed you through the afternoon the very next day. And who forced you to leave the moment his dam broke.

The one who hasn’t allowed you solace in a while; who touched your lips just once since then, only to shatter every piece of you again.

This is him. Still no one but him.

Equally as nervy on your damn passenger seat as you, going back to an exhibition tomorrow that presents the very hand he used to hold.

This hurts like a bitch.

“Jungkook,” you spit.

“Hm?”

“How long…” You draw a deep breath that comes out shakier than anticipated. You calm your chest. “How long had you been working on this?”

Surprised by your question, he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he bites his full lip, toying with its skin before he admits, “Not long. As I said… had the idea for a while, but the day I saw you holding them, I… I kinda cemented that picture into my brain.”

The night of your trip is a firm part of your memory, too.

Piling up bravery, you press your tongue to the palate, clearing your head before you ask, “Why did you make it your main painting?”

Jungkook’s laugh is quiet and insincere. Pained when he answers, “What do you think?”

“I just mean… doesn’t it hurt?”

No response.

You sit up straight, clutching the wheel until your knuckles pale, and try again, “I guess I just didn’t expect you to—”

“What about you?” he questions instead, dodging your inquiry. “Did it hurt you? Seeing it?”

“…Why are you asking?”

“Because I still can’t really decode your reaction.”

Yes… because you’re fighting transparency. The last time you made your vulnerability visible to him, you crumbled.

But does it matter anymore? You thought tonight would give you a clear answer to what to do; but so far, nothing has changed.

Might as well be exposed.

“Those things don't stop hurting so easily, you know?” you say. Talking proves hard. "But. At some point, you get tired of fighting the pain, and instead, let it happen until it gets better."

“Has it gotten better for you?”

His questions are sudden. Different from his determination to leave last week. He feels vulnerable to you, too, as if he’s fighting himself.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you tell him.

You make a right turn and miss the absolute grief in his eyes. After all the moments you spent together, he didn’t reckon his care for you would escape your mind. But in hindsight, thinking of all the despair he’s put you through, he understands, too.

“Seeing the exhibition today… seeing my piece,” he begins, eyes drifting to his lap, “you still think I don’t care?”

God, your chest feels heavy.

You lift a hand from the wheel, rubbing between your clavicles, but the strange feeling won’t pass. Utter discomfort spreads through your veins, dizzying your head; but you need to concentrate on driving.

You should be almost there.

So you say, “I don’t think I want to talk about it.”

To which he dares to ask, “…Why?”

Another stupid traffic light. No excuse to keep looking away, but you still evade his gape.

“Because.” Unblinking, you stare at the tail lights ahead until the red becomes an unpleasant afterimage. "You'll hurt me." Resolutely, "Again."

No answer.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? His reluctance to say something.

Goddamn, you’re frustrated. Uneasy.

“I think the best way to fight more uncomfortable situations is to not talk about them anymore,” you then say, firmly and certain. “At all.”

“Okay.”

You crane your neck to busy yourself, looking for a parking spot when you finally turn into his street. Frustrated when none is empty, you click your tongue, driving around the block in vain before finding a spot near the tiny park close by.

“There goes,” you say.

Jungkook doesn’t get off immediately. Much as though he still has something to say, something to plead for. His eyes are staring ahead, his breathing deep.

In your lovesick illusion, you imagine him gritting your teeth and then reaching out, pulling you into a kiss.

But the version of you that wades through reality doesn’t want him to; wants to swerve the pain you’re already combating every damn day.

All he says, however, is a timid, “Thank you for coming today. I really was hoping you would.”

You think back to yesterday, picture a lonely Jeon Jungkook, awaiting your arrival without the desired result. You think of his messages last night, and of the desperation in them.

But you don’t mention any of this. Not his apology, not his yearning.

What you do instead is recall the date, taking off the belt; and when he reacts with surprise, you clarify, “I forgot something.”

You open the door of the vehicle carefully, shooting a glance to the empty road. That’s a cool thing about this area — it’s quiet. You think a lot of families and old couples live around here, because it’s usually serene around this hour.

You get out the moment he does, rushing the one step to the backseat. In a corner, right behind the passenger seat and out of Jungkook’s gaze, you find the same silver object from yesterday.

The silky, shiny paper is soft under your touch as you take it out, and you round the car to a positively confused Jungkook. He doesn’t know what’s awaiting him, but he doesn’t ask; only hums in question.

You brush the non-existent dust off the white ribbon, and then stretch the gift towards him.

Which is when he finally speaks.

“What’s that…?”

Suddenly aware of the gesture, your eyes flit to the object. You try not to stutter but fail, “Your birthday present. I… I had it made a little after you came back.”

He keeps staring at it, like it’s an unidentified item, dangerous to touch. But once he’s caught himself, his muscles relax. He closes his mouth, cautiously taking it from you; the brush of his fingers against yours is warm.

As always.

“You can open it now,” you suggest, “and if you don’t want it, I can just uhm… return it or something.”

It’s hard to return such a present. But you know this might be your only chance to take it back, should he not like it.

It’d be a shame, though.

You watch with bated breath as he nods. Pulling at the ribbon, stuffing it into his jeans pocket before he’s unwrapping the present. He’s so gentle with the paper, as if it means anything.

But if your roles were reversed, you’d cherish every bit that carried him, too.

A moment later, the little, squared thing comes into view.

A new sketchbook, matt black.

His name is golden on it, elegantly and swiftly engraved in the middle of the cover.

“You…”

He utters this sole word. And then looks down again.

His fingertips barely touch the cover for another moment, and then, he ever-so-carefully opens to the first page. It’s an index — has a black and white print of a tiger lily behind a box that says—

To fill these pages with every curve and contour you desire, and to colour them in. Like you do with me. Happy Birthday, Kookie.

His breath visibly hitches. He opens his mouth again, audibly exhaling, eyes glued to the words and reading. Rereading. Internalising them.

The shake of his head is barely there, and you think you imagined it. But when he bites his lip again, an old tiny habit, you start worrying.

Maybe it pains him too much after all. You know that’s what it did to you every time you looked at the wrapped package.

Hurriedly, you explain, “I thought it could be something to remember me by. But I understand if you don’t want i—”

“No, I—” He lifts his gaze, your breathing suspended. His waterline glistens. “It’s an honest present. And you had it made just for me, so I… I’d be an ass to not accept.” He pulls it to his body. “Thank you so much. It’s… incredibly thoughtful.”

“So… You like it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I’m glad. Happy Birthday, Kook.”

The peace in your voices is briefly interrupted when Jungkook suddenly raises the hand with the notebook again, speaking louder as he assures, “You didn’t have to.”

You think back to all his little gestures; the stuff he brought you from his vacation. The freaking tattoo on his arm; the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, and you see a fragment of the orange and blue.

Even now, he carries around his sentiments for you. You’re not accepting his humility this time.

“I’ve never given you a present,” you say, “there was no way to not do that for your birthday.”

Only tonight, he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve; you can see the heaviness of it, tell yourself you’re hearing its beat. Matching yours. Falling like yours.

But you brush it all away, landing back in reality; once more taking in that you’re actually standing here and actually looking at him but reminding yourself that he and you aren’t what you used to be.

It takes enough strength to believe that he’s here, breathing in the same air as you. You won’t dive into delusions that might crack anyway.

You watch as he nods, putting the notebook into his bag in soft, watchful motions. Careful to keep each corner intact.

When he looks back at you, his eyes are glassier than before. Aching to utter something, preparing for something with an open mouth; words fail him, though.

They have been all evening.

What is he waiting to say?

You halt. Keep standing there. Smiling a little, biting the inside of your cheek. And when nothing comes, you finally conclude, “I should go.”

And that’s it.

That’s when his entire being finally breaks.

Because the moment you walk around your car again, he follows immediately; the rushed steps you hear behind you increase the pace of your heartbeat. Hammering against your throat, loud and clear; your head spins.

Worse and worse when you open the car’s door and he appears behind you, shutting it again with a flat hand.

You don’t know what he wants, but you know you’re not ready for it.

But…

You did come here for answers.

So one inhale. One exhale. You calm your head and unflex your muscles. Let your shoulders fall, shut your eyelids, and when ready, open them again.

Your fingers are still gripping the handle, but your gaze is fixated on your window. It’s darker now, and his reflection in it is clearer, albeit still a bit fuzzy. Doesn’t do justice to his incomparable beauty.

Better for your heart, maybe.

Or not?

Because you still catch his sombre stare, meeting your eyes. His nearing body doesn’t contribute to your health. You promised yourself to not spiral, but you are.

And he’s so close.

Because you feel his breath, hear him so near when he mumbles, “I’m sorry.”

Another breath in. You can’t do this.

You stand at your spot with drooping eyes, only half scared that an approaching car might run you over; your other half is dizzy and whispers, “What are you sorry for?”

“That… I hurt you. I know you don’t want to talk about it, and— if you want me to shut up… I’ll do it right now.”

You do. You don’t.

He’s tangling up your thoughts; he always has. Does it matter whether he speaks or not? It won’t change anything about your wretched heart… about the sting it suffers.

If he keeps talking now, you’ll dismantle each of his words for the rest of the night. And if he doesn’t, you’ll keep wondering what he would have said.

You wait. Let him decide what he wants to do.

And when he takes your silence as permission to go on, he says, “I didn’t want to hurt you. And I… I wasn’t being completely honest with you.”

Nightlife starts chirping already. It’s getting darker by the minute.

“When I said things have gotten easier for me without you. I lied.”

You swallow, torso nearing the car. You watch as his hand slowly lifts to the vehicle’s roof, close to your face. If you were in such a position to do so, you’d step back, fall into his arms.

Instead, you merely say, “It sounded true.”

“It was true that people are off my back… but. Nothing’s fucking easier without you.”

You gulp; there’s urgency in his voice, and it’s ruining you thoroughly.

You tell him, “It should be a reward. You’ve won more than you’ve lost.”

A chuckle moves a strand of your hair; it’s still not as sincere as you’re used to, but rather sad. Troubled as his words as he asks, “Let me guess… Because it’s just you?”

You only shrug one shoulder, listen as he adds, “You’re a lot more to live without than you think.”

Are you dreaming? Are his words real?

And the subtle, sudden touch, fingers against yours. Real? A fantasy?

You let out a tiny gasp and then hold your breath, seeking his warmth as he grazes your digits. His question is breathy and hushed when it falls, “Can you look at me?”

You don’t know if you can — yet, you oblige. Somewhere in your head, subconsciously, all of you would still do anything for him, no matter how small or harmless of a command.

“Jungkook…” you murmur, looking at his chest. At its rise and fall. At the buttons. You can’t meet his eyes yet. “What do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why…”

“I want to say that I’m sorry. And—” His next words are daring. Incredibly ruthless, uncaring of your heart. And you can’t believe he lets them slip. “I know it’s far too late, but… if there’s a way, any solution to stick here with you after all…”

Your eyebrows knit together, and you raise your head a little, looking at his shoulders with a feeling akin to irritation. Confusion?

“…What could it be?” he finishes.

“I can’t tell you.” You close your eyes when he moves in; once again hearing the pounding of that treacherous organ in your ears. This is driving you insane. “I knew some solutions. They came easy to me, because you… you felt comforting to me, you know?”

You rub your teeth together; your throat feels dry when you comment, “But now I’m caught up in life and—”

You drop your head lower again, unable to finish the remark.

You’re caught up in emotions and craze, you think. They’re creeping in slowly but surely, and consuming all of you. The way he was supposed to.

His touch stops toying with your hand, allowing a moment of relaxation. Only to come back worse.

The back of his fingers rise high, brushing against your cheeks, down to your jaw. You stand in front of him frozen, unable to defend yourself — or maybe, unwilling to refuse him.

You shudder again; it rolls up and down your spine, tickles your brain. Drains your lungs.

You blink your eyes fully open, and then let him lift your chin with a finger.

Two specific syllables of his sentence render you broken to the core, all of you in agony when he asks—

“Did I make a mistake, angel?”

The question echoes through your mind. What happened for him to reflect on his actions and reevaluate his choices?

How did he come to such a drastically opposite conclusion than he did last week?

Has he realised it takes two to move on? To break off things? That none of you is as free as you could be without each other?

That separation and distance fuel pain instead of destroying it?

Your lower lip quivers. Pulling yourself together, you manage, “Yes. You did.”

“Because of the comfort…?”

“Not only. You know why.”

“…Tell me.”

He’s reckless.

Perhaps he’s milking it to lead the two of you to a common understanding. One where it’s clear to either of you that you need each other’s presence around, navigating towards a final verdict.

So, so different from the words that cut you last week.

“Why?” you ask.

“Because,” he begins immediately, “I’m an idiot who chose for us both. I should’ve heard you out, because… this isn’t benefiting us, right?”

“You couldn’t see that before? When I told you tha—”

“I’m an idiot,” he repeats, “who thought he knew what he was doing. And I didn’t. I want to steer towards a decision we can both agree on. So tell me,” he tries again; you sigh. The whiplash is too much. “Why was it a mistake?”

The cool evening breeze rustles through the trees and your hair. The faint glow of the streetlights starts settling in, casting a soft illumination on the surroundings. Helps you see his face clearer.

His words weigh on your heart; you could ramble down a list as to why it was a mistake.

But you settle on the obvious, “Because… I’m working on getting out of my house.” Your voice is tinged with resolution; and the statement seems to surprise him. Eyebrows shoot up. “I’ve found an apartment and… started planning out every detail of how I want it to look and feel. But…”

His eyes fill with curiosity and concern; his voice, despite all the mess, is a soothing presence amidst the uncertainty, “But?”

“But it still doesn’t feel like home… It's strange.”

“Did I feel that way to you?”

“Being with you was the first time in my life that someone or something truly did.” Your words start breaking; your voice a dwindling sound. This requires as much strength as you expected. You take a deep breath. “So yes, you… you made a mistake.”

You wait, working on your tone, steadying it with conviction. And then, you say, “I’ve never needed anyone to survive, you know? I trained myself to be as independent as I can be. Just—”

Your lungs seem to shrink; they feel tight and knotted. Maybe you’re saying too much and not hoping enough. Perhaps that’s the perfect formula for further heartbreak.

But you communicate these thoughts. You will go insane in this little head of yours if you keep them in any longer.

“I crave your comfort,” you mumble. “Whenever I feel like shit or empty, I think— if he was here, he’d know what to say or do. He’d listen. And I hate that. The only warmth I’ve ever known shouldn’t come from you, and I– I shouldn’t be missing you like that.”

You huff out a breath, accompanied by a frustrated and exhausted sound. Your fingers rub your tired eyelids, your head moving to the side. The tips of your digits keep the dampness in, and you focus on proper respiration.

Say, “I hate that I’ve grown to crave you.”

You should’ve known, back in someone else’s bedroom; pressed against him; on the damn roof.

This thing you started with him wasn’t going to end any other way, and you should’ve known.

Wasn’t it the biggest reason you opted for distaste instead? For playful loathing, showcasing it in every class and whenever you met him once the semester started.

It was easier than being fond of him — like when he pulled you to your feet again; back when you were drenched in pool water, staring at the towel he handed you.

“It was much easier,” you echo, “when you weren’t part of my life. I pushed you away with some stupid academic excuse, because I knew we… this would hurt. So much fucking easier to keep you at a distance.”

And when you marched into dorm room 7, asking him for that dumb deal, what were you thinking?

Diving into risks head-first, despite all the knowledge you possessed of your miserable little world.

But the worst confession you might admit to yourself today is that — you’d do it all just the same again.

When you open your eyes once more, you see stars. Might be the rubbing you provided them, or the pupils you’re staring into. They are drenched in enough pain to fracture every teeny tiny bit of your soul.

Desolation swims in your waterline, but you don’t dare to blink; wait until it’s gone back. It proves hard when he keeps looking at you like that.

Almost impossible when he asks, “What do I do to make it right?”

The answer has always been the same, and he has never liked it. What else can you do but to repeat it over and over again, hoping for it to sink in one day and trigger change?

“You open up,” you say, “you tell me how you feel. What you feel.” Your chin trembles; you pull the evening air through your nose. “You stop keeping secrets from me and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I have never opened up with anyone as much as with you.”

And the worst truth is that he means that. No hint of hesitation and deception in his eyes.

It breaks you that this is the most he’s ever been able to disclose. What happened to him that forced him to bury every revelation in his ruptured heart?

His fingers slither to your cheek. He keeps the balmy palm under your ear, as he’s always liked to do. So many habits you caught; all of them pricking your skin now.

“Why have you never before?” you question, hoping for answers. Any of them. “To anyone else?”

His expressions change, much as you expected — feared.

The hand on your face moves a tiny inch, somewhat restless and uneasy. His exhale is desperate. And you, still clueless and suddenly anxious, prod, “Can you tell me?”

Hope trickles through your skin and into his — because for a moment, he looks like he can. There’s hesitation in his stare, but his veiled thoughts seem to sneak to the forefront of his mind.

You’re close, you think.

Unimaginably close to figuring him out.

But then, all the sparkle withdraws again. Like a lightbulb shutting off, his eyelids droop again, and he utters, “I can’t.”

God.

“Why not?”

“Because it hurts.”

“I want to help you, Jungko—”

“You can,” he hastily promises, fretful, as if you’re slipping away again — and maybe, you think, you are. “Just not now. Please just.” He downs the clump in his throat. “Let’s fight through this, because I want you to be able to help me, too.”

Fuck.

Why is this worse?

Wanting the aid, wanting the support; wishing for relief but not being able to accept it.

His lips draw closer, pillowy when they graze yours. Stalling the kiss as he mumbles against your mouth, “Can we fight through it?”

You don’t answer; drop your head to the side. A flicker of your old stars returns, but then it dies again; much like a candle in the wind.

He steps back slowly. Carefully. His chest deflates as he asks, “Is it… because of Hoseok?”

Hoseok?

That foolish conversation you had at the movies; his insecurity and the hints of jealousy. Has he been thinking about it?

Hoseok.

Unbelievable.

Of all things plaguing your mind, Hoseok is the last to keep you away from Jungkook. No. Fucking no.

“What?” you voice louder now, slightly piqued.

But he immediately retreats, kissing his teeth as he assures, “Nothing.”

You’re not done, though.

“No,” you tell him, “no, it’s not him. If it was, I’d chosen him years ago. And last year, I wouldn’t have come to the party but rethought his offer. But— Jungkook, fuck, I’m standing here with fucking you, because you never tried to fix me. Just… you just accepted me. Lived through every fucking day with me.”

He’s surprised. Expected the burst as much as you.

“I—”

A single pronoun escapes him before you interject again.

“It’s not because of Hoseok. It’s because of me. And because of you.” Your breaths are irregular when he caresses your jaw. Your thoughts are jumbled. “It’s because the hurt sits too deep to think about this now.”

“I… I know.”

“I can’t think about it, or anything. Or about you.”

Your forefinger presses against his chest, but his touch doesn’t falter. He keeps his palm planted on your face, another one joining on the other side as he repeats, “I know. I know.”

You’re agitated.

Want him away but closer. Silent but confessing his innermost wishes.

So bewildered, unable to make sense of this. Because what’s happening? Where are the two of you going?

Since that very frat party, what road were you on?

You don’t know. And maybe you shouldn’t think about your timeline. How you developed and how you got here.

But you can’t help it when his thumb comes back to your lips, parting it, preparing for another bittersweet kiss.

Like he always does. Like he did months and weeks ago.

Or…

That very night after the unspeakable humiliation, when he parted from you.

No matter how much you’ve forgotten, you still remember that time’s farewell.

The towel didn’t dry your clothes faster, but you were thankful for the gesture.

Jungkook rubbed your half-damp hair, insisting on helping, and the summer and its heat did the rest. Your back faced the wide bathroom mirror; you didn’t want to look at your miserable reflection anymore.

Eun was standing outside — her folded arms and the tapping finger spoke volumes, and her squinting eyes sought the assholes who’d ruin your night for you.

According to her, she’d already seen you with Jungkook; and not one to spoil your first good night in ages, she’d stayed away, instead looking for a certain blacked out Park Jimin. He was already home again, she said.

Now that you were leaning against the sink, she was seething on the other side of the door. Ready to bring you home; ready to thrash a couple people’s heads, only resisting because you’d told her to.

“Are you done?” you heard her from outside.

You looked up at Jungkook. You didn’t quite understand his willingness to stay with you, but you appreciated it. Stared at him with big, questioning eyes as he said, “Almost.”

“Eun,” you mumbled through the door, surprised when she heard you; hummed. “Could you get my stuff? Just my purse and cardigan.”

No hesitation.

“Where is it?”

“Attic. I forgot it there.”

She didn’t say much; grumbled something and then stormed away, once again leaving you with the kind presence in front of you.

In some way, you hoped you weren’t going to see him again. He was popular on campus, and you were a joke. The rich, little girl who made an idiot of herself at a private frat party.

If he wanted to keep his reputation, he wasn’t going to cross ways with you again either.

Right?

“People are so dumb,” he said, vexed as he put the towel away. “That was an absolutely inhumane thing to do. Thought we’re outta high school.”

You scoffed. “Are we ever?”

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. Maybe he felt the need to reassure you a little more, because he said, “They’ll forget about this in a day or two. Fuck them and keep living.”

Huh.

It was such a harmless statement, wasn’t it?

But… you weren’t used to it.

What you knew were strategies to help your image; to drown the rumours and delete online humiliation, which would undoubtedly happen again this time. You knew of staff that spoke to journalists or pacified magazine publishers.

But not of encouragements to forget about it and live on.

“Thank you,” you said, timid and quiet.

The way he stood there, leaning back, looking at you. Waiting for you to finger-comb all knots out of your hair… you had to say something. So you did.

“I think I told you so much today, because I needed it out. And you said all the things I needed to hear, so… I truly do feel thankful. For everything.”

More of the dialogue is broken. Your diary didn’t delve into details of the bathroom scene; all leftover pictures your written words evoked today are fragments now.

Like how he looked at you.

A bit of surprise, mixed with endearment. A smile that followed and a nod; one step closer and then another.

Or the tilted head and the tired doe eyes. The thumb that lifted to your lips, parting them — you didn’t know back then that he liked this tiny detail, and that you’d grow to love it, too.

And you recall the way he moved closer.

Leaving a gap between his own lips and then settling them between yours. Unprovoked, unannounced.

Softly, slowly. No craze, no insanity.

Just a touch. Fingers on your jaw, mouth moving just a little.

And then, him backing away again, bringing the night-long conversation to an end until you met again that fall.

“Go home and be well,” he said. “Fuck everyone else, okay? If they can’t treat you right or love you the way you wish, then just fuck it all.”

You felt hazy and warm. More sober than before, but drunk on confusion.

Something told you that he wasn’t just talking about the immature public down in the garden, but everything you’d confessed on the roof, too.

Hoseok.

You simply voiced, “Huh?”

“She will be loved, right?” he asked one last time. You smiled; the giddy feeling was unmistakably present. “For sure one day.”

Nostalgia is a bitch.

It’s supposed to be a sepia feeling. Comforting and sweet. It shouldn’t hurt like this.

The memory is poignant; you want it back, but you don’t want to trudge through the pain again. You want this to be over. Want to dive through the agony and surface to a better time.

If fate and the world let you, with him by your side.

Is it too much to ask for? You don’t know.

“Can you ju—”

You look at him immediately.

The same doe eyes you know — soft, tender, dry but despondent. There’s not a single tear in sight, but his words and voice still break. The fear in his pause smashes your heart into smithereens.

“Just… once,” he begins, “could you look at me like that again?”

“…Like what?”

“Like you didn’t stop falling for me.”

Still. Everything stays still.

You don’t think you could ever look at him like you stopped. You can’t imagine you’re staring at him right now like you ever did. How do you make clear to him that you orbit around him?

You keep standing still. Not an inch moves; your heart might give out.

Words fail you when his hope collapses and his shoulders drop. A deflating chest, a sigh of dispiritedness; and then, his touch is gone.

He nods slowly, a hand sinking back into his pockets. Clutching the strap of his bag, he steps away, keeping your gaze for a moment before he turns around.

His falling head makes you sick to the stomach; the way he’s walking away, no other word uttered, is gut-wrenching. You know he’ll text you again; thank you for the present at least.

You are so certain he will.

But you hate how this played out. Hate that nothing is resolved.

And maybe it’s that loathing towards this very outcome why you don’t want to leave just yet. No matter how this might end — whether you part or find your way back to each other again.

There’s just one thing you somehow want to remind him of again.

“That night at the frat party… last year,” you start. He halts in his steps, moving to face you. “We were dumb to treat it like nothing.”

He blinks at you.

“It’s where it started, don’t you think? And it’s where we should’ve been truthful with what we wanted already.”

“Why are you saying that now?” he asks.

“Because I just remembered that… you kissed me back then, too. You kissed me like you didn’t want me to leave.”

It’s when your tale already started. Pointing at one outcome: no matter what hurdles, you were meant to end here together, but without the pain, as one unit.

It was clear back then. It should’ve always been clear; break ups were redundant. You know — does he, too?

His gaze feels heavy on you. The silence lingers, tension mounting as he takes in your answer. Doesn’t say a single word until your face is hot and your heart is bursting.

Maybe you’ve pushed him away, wounded his heart. He looks… disoriented. Have you said too much? Or not enough? Did you utter something not true at all?

False.

Because a moment later, his features change; endless longing as clear as the sky when he speaks again—

“Angel…”

Your breath catches; every damn piece of you implodes.

“Stay the night.”

alllllright :’) worth the wait? :’’’) i’m sorry if not but YAY if yes !! tbh, more things were supposed to come to light, but the chapter was already too long, so i had to split it. you shall find out more and get some relief in ‘cmi9: blue’ !! another reason i focused on the flashbacks more was bc… i need us to process the big reveal >:) how was it? what do you think?

as always, thank you so much for supporting this series. it means a shit ton to me that you guys are still here and loving these two as much as i do. as per usual, this one required all my brainpower and my free time, too; so if you liked it or want to say literally anything, please keep interacting with the series – motivation to work on this is always boosted by you guys tremendously !! so please like, reblog (on desktop since the post’s so big!!), comment aaaand send an ask !!! i shall answer them all this time >:O

thank you and i love you. here’s to more <3

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook series

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violetsiren90 · 5 months

Text

Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader

Genre: Oneshot; hard smut (eventual fluff 😂); BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)

Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.

Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom; MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace lol; Hobi in the studio 👀 (The full oneshot will come with more specific warnings - a looooong list lol)

Mood board here! ⛓🖤

Release date: Christmas? 🎄

Author's note: Hey, y'all! I am catapulting out of my comfort zone with this one and, honestly, having the time of my life. I've been in my Hobi era lately and when the concept of dom!Hobi possessed my mind I knew I'd have to write it out or else. 😅😂 I hope to pop this under your trees around Christmas! Hope you enjoy the teaser, and as always, if no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

Also, a big thank you to @orchidyoonkook for beta reading this - you are the real MVP! 💕

If you want to be alerted via the tag list for this when it drops, let me know!

_______________________________________________

"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.

You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.

"Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.

The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair.

"Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes.

You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.

Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.

You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.

"Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.

He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.

"He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me."

At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech. Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening. You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath.

Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down. It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.

"Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.

"I told him...I said..."

"What?"

"Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"

You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come. You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried. Did you just fuck things irrevocably up? That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit. Shit.

"Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.

He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.

"Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"

You don't answer him. You can't. Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his grey sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.

"Is it?"

You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.

"Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."

He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bare.

"You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."

He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.

"...that's something I can do."

...what? He can...h-he can....

"Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.

You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.

"Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?"

"When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.

But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom -

"When you're a filthy pathetic little slut."

A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together (to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure), and that's when he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes fluttering frantically open.

"Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?" Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long, something that longs to feed.

You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.

"I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins. His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want - your friend. Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.

"Yes - yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.

So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body. You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.

"A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his words.

You blink, your mind running up against the sudden saccharine pet name (which he has admittedly called you before) as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?

"Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.

"Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever - okay? You say that. Foxglove."

You nod.

"Say it for me," he whispers, you shiver again. Fuck.

"Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.

"Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"

You scramble to find your voice.

"Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.

He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.

"I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."

He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.

"See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.

He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.

"Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.

"No, Hobi," you whisper. And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.

"That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."

You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and completely exhilarating. When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want. You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.

"You gonna listen, hm?"

It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...

"Make me."

#fic teaser #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #hoseok imagine #hobi x reader #hobi smut #hobi x y/n #jhope smut #jhope fanfic #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #jhope imagine #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #fic: make me

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hollyhomburg · 5 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.63)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: you never thought that just cuddling with Hobi on a cold day could lead to this; his pants off and you begging "Daisy please-"

Tags: fluff, a little hurt but mostly just comfort, first times, soft cuddle sex, unintentional mutual somnophilia, knotting, scenting, under clarified limits, a touch of slick kink, breeding kink, a touch of size kink (you know the good stuff), unrealistic amounts of cum, implied belly bulge, implied feral sex, small triggers after sex, small references to past abusive relationships, hole check's, knot checks, dom/sub undertones to later scenes but not in the main smut,

W/c: 14.2k

A/n: thank you guys for being patient for this next chapter :) it's one of my favorites so please give it lots of love! i know we've all been waiting for hobi's confession and the completion of their arc, did i do it justice? Also i'm sorry that i have a pathological need to end every single chapter with a cliffhanger lol, this one is no different!

Previous part ~ Masterlist

(5 years ago. Before Yoongi. Before everyone.)

Jung Hoseok cleans his arms in a bathroom. He is 21 years old, there is lipstick on his fingers, and nothing bad has happened to him yet.

Bad is all relative of course. Some would call growing up in a rich area while living in a one-bedroom apartment bad. Some people would call not really knowing your parents because they work late nights bad. Some would even say that the fact that they won’t pay for Hoseok’s college education a fucking tragedy.

But between you and me and Hoseok; other people wouldn't know a fucking tragedy if it hit them in the fucking face. Talking to some people about your suffering is like trying to make a toddler shoot the broad side of a god damn barn with a double barrel shotgun. Or like those little lemon slices they put in the water at olive garden-

It's fucking useless. And you're more likely to be sent to the hospital than get some actual fucking results. Weather it's because of food poisoning, a bullet wound, or because some idiot you trusted thinks you're a god damn suicide risk.

See right? Talking about your problems is fucking useless.

But he’s always been able to focus on the brighter side of things. It's a blessing and a curse because optimism always lies to you. It's easier to be happy than it is to be upset, at least for Hoseok at this moment.

At least he was an optimist until they ruined him a little. After this year, finding the silver will take effort.

The tiles beneath his feet are cold to the touch. He knows that there’s a button somewhere to turn on the heated flooring but he just can’t find it. Hidden and unfamiliar as he is with this den. So different from his own little dormitory halfway across the city.

This fancy three-bedroom apartment is one that he will move into in precisely 4 months once they make it official, he’ll live here for exactly 2 years 3 months, and 8 days before being kicked out and moving into the pack's den. It’s exactly 2 years to the date that he meets Min Yoongi in the record store.

But nothing bad has happened to him yet. Today he is just himself, No idea of what's about to befall him and that It won't just be bad.

This apartment is upscale, with its wainscotting and long gauzy curtains that barely keep out the sound of the city streets 5 stories below and the lightly warm June morning. He’s not quite sure who pays for this one yet. Hasn’t had the chance to ask, he's only been seeing this pack for 2 months. This Hoseok is shyer than the one you know. Timid and unsure of where he should place his dulled claws.

It's all awfully mysterious. The question of "What do your parents do?" and the answer pressed to a raised finger. The truth lingering between lipstick and manicure on a single giggled breath.

"That's a secret"

He casts a glance around the bathroom, the marble counters, the plush hand towels, and even the designer soap is forghein to him.

Rich people.

It's one part tired jealousy and one part true distaste. Even if Hoseok had all the money in the world he wouldn't waste it on painting a bathroom white or powdery Dior soap. Why not blue or orange or green or pink?

(Oh Hobi. The pack’s bathroom will be green one day, with delicate tiles in the shade of the lightest moss. Not yellow-toned and not blue. he's going to help yoongi pick it out, He just doesn’t know it yet).

Their apartment is just a few blocks from the college that he attends, a freshman but not for much longer. A freshman, along with the pack's youngest. Her on the business track and him in a weed-out art department. The prerequisite humanities course is their shared battleground.

Out of everything in this story, this is the only true coincidence.

This version of Hoseok likes omegas with a bit of a dark side. The ones that are a bit bitchy, a bit entitled and alot pretty. The ones that hone their eyeliner to a vicious edge, or the male ones that act a little bit more like alphas and disobey gender norms. That’s what drew his eye to this pack's youngest in their hum 1 class.

He got a little melty when her eyes turned less “I’ll kill you if you even sniff in my direction” and more “A pretty alpha like you has to have a pack right?”

Hoseok had stuttered when he’d said that No- he didn’t.

Before long he’ll drop out because he just can’t cut it at art school. Just can’t spend nights with fingers black from charcoal, working on things that will one day be thrown in the garbage because he’ll have a pack to attend to. Good alpha that he is.

(It will be years before he realizes that it wasn't art school just mediums. He’s meant to use flowers to make things instead.)

They’re not his pack yet, not yet. not yet. Not Yet- But there is a gift waiting for him downstairs. A fancy set of pastels and paints. It’s the start of courting even though he’s supposed to be the one buying them gifts. He’s the penniless college student they’re the ones with the nice apartment. He’s the one with the knot, and they’re all omegas. It’s a give-and-take.

Yet somehow even though he’ll be the only alpha he knows he won’t be the pack alpha.

He cleans the lipstick from his fingers. Bright red. He knows he has it in other places too, down below the tugged low hemline of his pants pulled on after they were done fucking.

The last thing he wants to be is like the other alphas in the fraternities on campus, the ones that holler at all the omegas shit like “I can taste your slick from here baby,” and “want to study anatomy together? I’m a hands-on learner” Hobi dreads the idea that he might be like that. Even a little bit. Even unintentionally.

But still, their words from earlier ring in his ears.

“They haven’t been dating for that long, you can’t expect us to be comfortable all the time with you in our nest, it's a really intimate thing for us."

Hobi feels like one of those phraternity alphas when it makes him uncomfortable.

It’s reasonable that they wanted to give his knot a ride and try him out before they make it official. One alpha and four omegas, these odds are every alpha’s wet dream. He knows his performance was Oscar-worthy.

It had been nice to be in a nest for just a little bit, Hoseok’s biology wants it, the tense knot between his shoulders all loose.

Hoseok has never been loved by someone who wanted to talk to him every day, it will be easy for them to reduce his focus to their beck and call.

There's 4 different colors of lipstick on his cock. Four different shades from four different women. His new packmates get to the carrot part of the carrot and stick arrangement.

In the future, he’ll deny that he ever thought of any of these women as that- as packmates. He'll say it was only ever Namjoon’s pack that he wanted in this way. He’ll say it never compared and it didn’t. Except for these first few months. These first few days.

Memories lie to us all the time; memory is the best secret keeper.

He watches one of his packmates sit on the edge of the nest, she wears the lipstick prints better than he does. Lining the inside of her thighs, her own lips smudged.

Hoseok doesn’t let the smile fall from his lips and she smiles back. She tugs her long hair free of a bun that she’d put it up in so that she didn’t get slick in it. It will be a few more months until she cuts it above her collarbones. Blunt to a brutal edge.

Hoseok’s sweatshirt is on the edge of the nest, and Hoseok watches as she brings it to her nose, breathing in deep. Hoseok is just about to say that she can wear it when she throws it onto a nearby ottoman. Not onto the floor thankfully. No omega has ever worn his sweatshirt before. Hoseok tries not to let the rejection of his scent sting.

She looks at the lipstick on Hoseok, there’s a bit on his lip. “Come here.” She asks, parting her legs.

Hoseok is a good alpha and goes.

~-~

(Now, You and Hobi)

When Hobi wakes it's because the pack is moving around the room, bickering, and struggling to be quiet, bickering a little.

Their low hum drum voices as they talk about “Jungkookie? where did you put my mittens?” and ”I sort of love that you still wear mittens, babe.” Yoongi’s deep rumble, “Did Jimin buy those for you too?” All teasing and understanding. Because if anyone knows how Tae likes to be teased, Yoongi does.

Tae’s fond little croon is so melodic it makes Hobi sigh, ears straining to hear more of it. “Yes, he did. Got pup matching ones too.”

Pup. that’s you. Curled in the center of the nest under Hobi's elbows. dozing but unable to lift your head from where it's pillowed. You’re sure that Yoongi knows you’re kind of awake or at least listening in because Yoongi knows everything.

You’re sure that as he looks down at you and Hobi tangled together, he’s doing it with a smirk. You don’t need to open your eyes and double-check.

The temperature of the nest is balmy, overly warm in the way that it gets when it’s cold outside and the nesting is hitting so particularly good that Hobi won’t even think of moving. (The way it feels when you come out of the cold and into the waiting arms of someone you love) Hobi nuzzles into the warmth in front of him.

A small storm brews outside. The snow has been falling since midday. Just a little here and there. But Tae loves how it looks with all the Christmas lights. There aren’t quite enough up yet but the holiday season is close.

But the snow won't last, soon it won’t be falling at all. It will all melt off by tonight, the afternoon is supposed to be sunny. Can sun showers happen with snow?

"Do you think we could walk all the way to the gym, it's not all that far! only like 10 miles. We could run it in like an hour!"

He listens to the others talk. The sound of Yoongi’s voice, gravely and vaguely upset. “Jungkook, you’re not really thinking about going to work out right now- You’ve barely been home for like 5 hours. I just said we could go do something not run 10 fucking miles.”

Jungkook always gets this way; when the dizziness of the seizures turns to restlessness and he's honestly fine but the others can't resist trying to baby him. Too awake to sleep anymore. He sounds grumpy, whiney, and pouty even though Hobi's eyes aren't open to see him turn his puppy eyes on Yoongi. “I’m never going to be able to sleep tonight if I don’t hyung- I’m gonna go crazy.”

There’s the faint sound of lips meeting and smacking. Kisses that are probably meant to soothe Jungkook. “How about we compromise pup.”

“A walk?” Tae offers, sounding hopeful.

“A long walk.”

You shift a little and Hoseok opens his eyes. You're mostly still asleep just settling, making yourself more comfortable with the new space no longer corralled by arms and bodies.

Hobi’s mouth is dry when he watches you shift onto your stomach your face half-smushed into the cushions, scenting them a little in your sleep. The homey scent fizzle in Hoseok’s bones tells him that you've scented him too. Being surrounded by the pack's scent like this makes Hobi’s skin feel like pop rocks. Like his bones are mentos and coca cola. All sensitive and tingly.

He’s cuddled with you before- through your nightmares and last night at the hospital of course- but it’s never been just the two of you in a nest. He’s never been the only alpha here, charged with guarding the pillows and blankets and you curled soft in the center.

Hobi tentatively puts an arm around your waist, tugging you a little closer. The house still hasn't totally warmed up yet and you'd be cold without some body heat. He does it slowly, seeing if you’ll wake.

There is a hand in his hair, petting softly, and he snatches his arm from around your waist the second Hoseok realizes he's being watched. Yoongi leans over the edge of the couch-turned-nest, smirking a little. The door shuts behind Tae and Jungkook with a puff of cold air, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

He would look intimidating if his beanie didn't have cat ears.

The pads of Yoongi's fingers rub soothing circles under Hobi's jaw and his lips part unintentionally. “Be good yeah?” he says, whisper soft. Hoseok just nods, too sleepy to verbally respond.

They haven’t talked much about Hobi’s confession; that night on the beach what feels like ages ago. But everytime he thinks of it Hobi still tastes salt on his tongue and your name on his lips.

Yoongi’s wearing the same look now that he did then; half hopeful and half worried. But if there was anyone that would object on your behalf, if Hobi wasn't allowed this closeness with you, Yoongi would tell him.

Yoongi doesn't say that you and him aren't ready for cuddling like this. Yoongi doesn't say that Hoseok should give you space or not cradle you to his chest like you are something as fragile and necessary and as doomed as his beating heart. Trembling and stuttering with the force of sweet expectations and hopes made hollow with satisfaction.

Yoongi does not realize that Hoseok's heart has not had a steady beat since he woke up holding you.

Yoongi doesn't say anything. Yoongi just drags a single knuckle down his cheek and leaves. Heading out after Tae and Jungkook who are, judging from the hallow sound of snow hitting the windows- are having a snowball fight.

“If one of those hits me I’m not holding anyone’s hand for the whole walk-“

The door keeps out the sound of Tae's sweet giggles and Jungkook’s pouted, "just one hyung- I won't hit your face-"

And the two of you are alone. Wrapped up warm, quiet and hushed, just the two of you.

Well, except for Noodle.

The meticulously kept edge of the nest is all fluffed, Noodle makes sure of it. Small paws depressing the blanket as he kneads it and then settles on the edge. His purr is audible from here as he blinks slowly from the bottom of the couch turned nest. Jin wrangled him for a brushing yesterday morning and his coat still looks extra fluffy and kempt.

Unwatched and unjudged, Hobi tentatively reaches to cradle your ribs again. Thumb smoothing down the center of your stomach, a little close to your belly button. You’ve got a little hair there. Hobi’s fingers like the feel of it. Not rough but not silky.

Your skin feels like champagne bubbles and sparklers, everywhere he touches your skin goes fizzy. Hobi looks down at you, breath hitching, and thinks Is it really so horrible to want this? Why am I so afraid of this?

You wiggle a little closer in your sleep and Hobi’s arm goes vicelike.

Noodle's purr goes a little louder.

Hobi doesn’t like to think about his last pack ever, but he recognizes that hollow ache and tug that says memories aren’t too far behind. And it threatens to swallow him until he looks down at you. The house is quiet but your eyebrows are puffed up like something very shocking is happening in your dreams. He doesn't want to think about them right now.

He drags his nose across your hairline; scenting you. Tasting your emotions on his tongue. Comfort. Ease. Arousal-sweet. Not all that abnormal. Not nightmares then. He is always on the lookout for them. After Jungkook and the hospital, he sort of thought they might come back.

Hoseok counts his stars and snowflakes, and rests his forehead against the nape of your neck.

Over the next hour, you’re restless. Moving, worming your way closer to him as he goes in and out of sleep. You make a soft noise and he shushes you. a growl that says to stay put and alpha's here.

You blink slowly up at him. Hobi pulls back, taking his arm from around your waist, feeling like he’s just stolen candy from a jar on the counter that’s for him anyway. You stretch and don't comment on it, yawning.

Noodle hops closer, squirming between the two of you and stepping over your shoulders. Meowing right in Hoseok’s face. “Alright alright, I’ll feed you again.”

You snuggle into the warm hallow he left on the couch when he detangles himself, hand under your cheek watching him as he stumbles out of the nest. Noodle follows tail held high. It's truly horrible. Leaving the nest when every bit of Hobi's body wants him to stay in the warmth. The house is always so slow to warm up.

“Fuck the floors are cold.”

“Quick,” you say, face above the edge of the cover. Hoseok rushes, doling out a single scoop of dry food and then running back to you. Hobi wastes precious seconds to grab his headphones from the kitchen table before collapsing onto the couch where you hold the blanket up, sealing the warmth and him back inside. The headphones tangle between the two of you and he falls with a giggle. Disappearing among the white blanket. He sinks thankfully into the warmth, into the safety that the nest offers. Into you.

Your warm arms wrap around his shoulders and his body shivers delightfully in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. Your jaw pops when you yawn and then he yawns too, a breath later. You laugh too and tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Fuck- it’s so cozy.”

It really is, the kind of cozy that only comes along a few times a year. A quiet to your bones that says there is nothing to do now but rest. The coldness that turns your bodies into these molten-loving things. Your warmth and Hoseok’s warmth. One warmth.

He breathes, deep and heavy.

“I don’t know if I want to get up yet.” The house is still quiet. Nothing but Noodles happy munching sounds and the faint scratch of big snowflakes hitting the windows.

Hobi’s heart beats frantic against yours and you sigh. “Wanna listen to some music?” He offers. Hobi always loves a backtrack, a little compliment for the exposition.

You nod, a little sleepy, but Hobi has a playlist for that. He’s got a playlist for everything including ’sleepy cozy pup time’. The headphones take a second to locate, lost in the nest. But when he does you share them. One earphone a piece, the sound turned low so you can still talk.

Hobi puts on a love song, and it makes you smell all sweet. Stretched out with your hair tangling because you’ve left it unbound, the split ends prodding at Hobi’s cheeks. He doesn’t really listen to the song, just watches you. Eyes closed humming softly.

Your scent sours and Hoseok's hand goes tight on your wrist. You tell him what's bothering you without him even having to ask.

“I saw this line the other day that didn't like." You look at the ceiling, not at him. "it said a love song is really good if you can’t tell whether they’re talking about another person or if they’re talking about god.”

You think about Jimin and Tae. You've been thinking about it since Tae talked about their childhood earlier and the bloody cross between the two of them. If holiness does exist, it’s in Tae. If there is anything like religion for you or Jimin, it's love. God has nothing to do with it. God's not the person who makes love songs sound good.

Hobi turns on his side, leaning on his elbow. “I’m not sure Jimin would agree with that either.”

You turn in time to see Hobi’s smile. It catches the sunlight, lingering right on his cheek. An octagonal shaft of sunlight that has traveled millions of miles to get there could not have found a more beautiful place to fall. He huffs a quiet laugh again, and you swear you might hear the highest note of a piano somewhere.

You wonder when he became so musical to you, maybe it’s just because he’s the person who made you love music so much.

(You can tell a love song is good, when it makes you think of Hobi).

“You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?” You rest your lips against his shoulder and Hobi’s body doesn’t move an inch. They’re soft where they lie not a kiss but not not a kiss either. You can rest your lips against his skin, you can rest your whole body and Hoseok wouldn't move an inch.

“Always worried, got to worry about Minnie. Always worried about everyone.” You mumble. Eyes closing.

The light comes through the windows all honey yellow, turning the bookshelves that Yoongi made gold instead of white. Turns the tops of Hobi’s hair a little red too, the brown has endless depths in the sunlight all burnt umber and Sienna where the sun hits, yellow ocher at the tips. The sunlight savors falling on Hobi, down to the last inch.

You try to keep your eyes open, struggling, and Hobi sets a hand on the top of your head, ruffling your hair lightly.

"Go back to sleep pup."

You hum, already half there. He pulls you a little on top of him, holding you with a firmness usually reserved for too-large packages and the tenderness reserved for very fragile very precious things. It makes your whole body feel tingly at the edges.

“Thanks for not leaving the nest when everyone else did,” you think he might be asleep for how long it takes him to answer. But everything in the last 24 hours has left you feeling like you don’t want to be alone, that you can’t be left by yourself. He breathes up and it presses against your stomach.

“Didn’t want to go with the others- just wanted to stay here in the nest with you.” nesting is a biological need for alphas as much as it is for omegas, Hobi hasn't felt so relaxed in ages.

He murmurs, hand still skimming through your hair. His thumb rolling against the nape of your neck and you shiver hard into the touch, sinking further into him. “Is that okay?”

Your hand finds a spot under his arm and you use it to tug yourself closer, getting your forehead against his shoulder, the headphones slipping from your ear.

“Yeah. It’s always okay.”

Hobi tucks your hair behind your ear and puts the headphones back in.

The next time you wake it’s because Noodle is licking at your forehead, grooming you, and you hear the shutter sound of Hobi’s camera, his small giggle. You swat at noodles face and he bats at you a little before settling on the small of your back, fighting Hobi for necessary real-estate and howling when he gets pushed off.

“Nu, be quiet,” Hobi’s hushed words are answered with an equally quiet meow that sends you straight off to dreamland again.

You don't know how long it's been, it could have been hours or minutes the next time you wake. You just know that Hobi smells good, smells musky sweet caramel all drippy and heady, that you've got your nose pressed up against his scent gland. All surrounded by it. Surrounded by him.

The next time you wake is not so innocent.

You’re a little too close. Cuddling with Hobi in a way that you might with Yoongi- with Namjoon or Jungkook. All warm snug hot. Bodies and dreams tangled so thoroughly that it's hard to tell where dreamy wants begin and fragile delights end.

You’re warm at your front from Hobi and warm on your back from the sunshine streaming through the window. Warm all the way through. Until he moves his hand and you realize that’s from him too. His fingers splayed over your spine.

You think you can be forgiven for confusing them. Hoseok and sunlight are one and the same.

The apex of your thigh is pressed tight to his hip just where his thigh starts. Your leg hitched over his hip and tight to it. The fabric of his sweatpants and the fabric of your pajama shorts are all bunched up from your movements. Your knee bent at a comfortable angle. His scent is heady in your nose, pressed to the low tugged collar of his shirt just over his heart.

As close as you can be but still not enough.

You don't even realize your hips are moving, sleepily grinding against his thigh until it's too late.

Hobi grabs your hips and groans.

You stop mid-movement, thoughts sloshing sleepy. And oh, you were moving, weren’t you? There is a dampness between your thighs and the scent of slick and arousal sharp in the air. That comfortable pleasure hiccup in your throat that says you want to cum and can. could like this.

You jerk back from the warmth in front of you, startled into wakefulness as you realize exactly you were just doing.

Oh no- you didn’t mean- Hobi. Alpha, warm and comfortable at your front.

You start to back up, still half asleep, but terror and embarrassment flood you like the ocean floods the sea rocks at high tide.

Hobi groans, a deep near growl sound, and moves before you can back up even an inch. he was just as asleep as you just were until you pulled away. His sleepy brain still clings to you.

His hands slip lower, holding you tight against his front. His sleepy alpha brain is malfunctioning. Sweet omega needs to stay close. The source of his warmth and the friction against his front cannot slip away.

His hands are on your ass and your pussy is pressed flushed to his hip, and Hobi-

Hobi is your best friend, Hobi is your packmate and Hobi has to be unaware of what he’s doing. You’re sure of it. You try to pull away again from him fighting back more embarrassment than you've ever felt in your entire life, hands pressed to his chest.

But He pulls you right back to him.

Right into a unmistakable hardness poking at your stomach. Hard and warm. Right where you were grinding in your sleep.

Hoseok’s heavy breath brushes your ear.

Instincts are incredibly hard to describe. The way they hook into your consciousness and separate reason from action and want from logic. The part of you that’s in control, that recognizes that you and Hobi shouldn’t be this close like this if it’s not talked about, is so distant.

A needy sound echoes that might be from you, that is from you, as Hobi’s hands slide up your hips and under his sweatshirt. Cold hands on your warm hips and oh-

Hobi’s eyes are cracked open, looking down at you, watching you with pink cheeks. Tongue darting out to lick at his lip. “S’okey you just-" his eyes flutter closed again; breath warm against your face. "You take what you need.”

It’s only a testament to the pack's care that you associate these things with each other. Safety and coziness are just so close to pleasure and comfort. Your sleepy body associates this kind of nesting with sex. it's only natural that you'd get a little needy while inside of it.

You can get needy, Hobi doesn't mind.

Before either of you can say if you really should, if this is really a good thing to do without talking about it first. Hobi’s hands are on your waist, pulling you back snug, his hard thigh between your legs.

If you were more awake, you’d think better of it, you’d think so much but there is only that sweet pressure. The drag, the wetness, the soft little huffs of breath that he shushes when he lets you take what you need. Helps you with his hands on your hips and guides you back into rocking against his thigh.

You feel it all the way down to your toes when his hands slide down to the curve of your ass then back up again, underneath the hem of your shorts and then your sweatshirt- his too (all of you his). Rucked up to your ribs.

“Soft.” Hobi groans.

This must not be real. This has to be a dream. Because Hobi doesn't want to touch you like this, Hobi doesn't groan and twitch against your stomach or guide the movement of your hips with his hands into a slow grind that has you gasping against his jaw. Hobi doesn’t leave the seat of your pajama bottoms soaked with slick. Hole clenching around nothing already. Utterly boneless where you lie against his front.

There is one single moment where you look at each other, one single moment where you try to keep from going any farther. Even though you want it, even though he wants it too. If Namjoon and Jin have taught you anything they've taught you caution.

Hoseok can smell the others lingering on your skin, the spot on the top of your head where Yoongi rested his cheek. He leans down, brushing his lips over it. It’s such a tender gesture and it breaks the flood and he's tugging you up, tugging you even closer, desperation coloring his voice all sweet.

“Fuck- please.” His forehead rests against yours, “fuck I just need-“

You're not sure who moves first, who starts the kiss only that once you’re kissing him it’s hard to stop. One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.

Teeth clanging against each other, harsh as they nip. Kissing so good that when you pull apart for breath you're both gasping and it has nothing to do with needing air.

Hobi has such nice lips it’s no wonder that they’re heart-shaped. Made for kissing, made for the needy needy licking against the seam of his lips. He shifts turning you on your side, surging up to kiss you properly and put his weight behind it. cradling your head with one hand and your side with the other. You’re so pliant, so willing to let him kiss and take. You want him to take everything. arms around his neck.

He breaks apart, forehead resting against yours, heart beating so quick that he can feel it in his palms. Pupiles blown when he blinks. “If you take what you need, and I take what I need- Can we-“

Your hands thread hard in his hair. Tugging him back to your lips. Closer and closer. “Fuck Yes- please-“

You don’t know where the wanting comes from, why it’s raging through you like a fire. His lips move against yours frantic, you bite his lip and he jerks. Hovering over you with your back against the nest, all tingly and fizzy. Your bones feel like champagne popping, like shooting stars burning out.

Hobi’s hands shake when they touch your hips, just like yours do when you mirror him, your touches shy but just as hungry, tugging up his shirt, fingertips and nails pressing bluntly to his happy trail of fine dark hair. You can feel the way his cock jumps against your stomach and thigh when you scratch gently.

You pull back a little and sit up and it’s sacred; the way that he panics, scrambling to hold onto you. You're A little bit shy when you take off his sweatshirt, nothing underneath. hair fluffing when you get it free from the cotton.

Your bare skin and the cold room. You get goosebumps on your arms almost instantly when they cross over your bare chest. Hobi’s breath stutters in his chest, like roman candles flare and settle. Hobi takes his sweatshirt from you and sets it aside in his haste to hold you again.

He starts to tugs his pants down, getting tangled because he won't even pull back an inch from you. You kiss his throat, again and again making up for lost time. Sucking a mark there. His hands fumble with the waistband of his tied tight grey sweatpants. finding the loops and then freeze when he feels wetness. Pulling back and looking down just to make sure that that is what he thinks it is. you stop your kissing and look too.

There is a wet spot, darkening the grey material. Your slick from your grinding, the spot where you got so worked up and felt so good that you couldn't even help it. He pulls back so that the light can kiss it but yeah that's definitely from you. Evidence of how much you want this. Evidence of how much you want him.

Hoseok thinks you might have actually set his body on fire. Is about ready to start checking your fingers for matches.

You blush so hot that you think you might be burning in embarrassment. Hands between your legs, clutching at the material of the nest, so embarrassed you can't watch as Hoseok looks down at it and then up at you.

“I’m sorry I- I can’t help it- I'm always-“

Hobi’s hands smooth over the wet patch, splaying up to cradle his cock where you’ve left your mark. And he looks at you, jaw rolling and eyes dark. He doesn’t say anything. Can’t.

It’s hasty how you both move to take his pants off, and he kicks them to some forgotten corner of the nest, his boxers pulled off too, and then clings to you. You cling to each other. Kissing again. Hands knotting through his hair and tugging.

You glance down and oh- Hobi has such a pretty cock. the prettiest in the pack maybe (don't tell Tae), Flushed at the tip, hair neatly trimmed and curving up.

Your bare thighs press to his adds a whole new level to this, the skin there is sensitive and unknown. Lying thigh to thigh somehow feels more intimate than chest to chest as you lie the way lovers do, your leg, his, then yours again.

You’re damp between your legs when he touches, hands shaking. He doesn't bother to take off your shorts just tugs the soaked bit of fabric to the side. It’s been a long time since he’s touched a pussy but he knows enough to do it gently. Petting over your folds like he’s teasing a flower to bloom and opening a rose for a bouquet.

“Please” you gasp, hand vicelike around his wrist. Kissing his frantic pulse again. Hot lips and a cold nose drag down his throat. You hiccup as the pads of his fingers find your clit, shaking against him. "Please-"

But you don’t need to ask, you don’t need to beg. Whatever you need Hobi will give it to you. Your hands scratch as his back when he presses close, snaking underneath his sweatshirt. Breath heavy.

He kisses your neck and bites it when his length brushes the wetness between your thighs. Hot and honey slick. his hips press to your hips, harsh lines of his thighs pointing low that you like. There is so much about Hobi that you like; the way that he kisses, the way that he touches. oh- it’s better than you imagined.

His knuckles are glossy with your slick when he curls them against the nest, holding himself up.

Hobi bends down to skim a kiss across your neck, your collarbones, your sternum.

You laugh, your giggle high and bright. He has to pull back, not upset at all but wanting to laugh too, giggling too. “Why are you?”

Your smile means everything to him. “Your hair tickles.” It is kind of fluffy, kind of pulled everywhere from your kissing and you run your fingers through it, scratching a little around the nape of his neck, and Hobi is done playing.

He pulls back, already dripping a bit of precum, silvery and pearl like at the head of his cock, standing against his stomach. a little hidden because he's still wearing his sweatshirt. Checking because he can’t not check.

“Is this- can I- fuck are you-“

“Daisy, please-“ Oh, how that pet name unhinges him.

He won't make you wait another second for it, hands shaking as he holds your hip. Shushing your needy whimpers with a soothing alpha rumble as he guides his cock close. Giving you what you both need.

Hoseok is not as big as Namjoon or Tae or Jimin, but he’s properly thick. Not the kind of thickness that knocks the breath out of you but the kind that fits just right. Not enough to make you ache or hurt even a little. It doesn’t hurt at all when he eases in slowly.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

That might be because of how soaked you are; dripping messy underneath the warm humidity of the blanket. The visual of your glossy pussy robbed from him but unimportant as Hobi stares at your face, resting his head against your forehead. Watching your eyes dilate and eyelashes flutter. “There we go- fuck-”

It’s not worth pulling back to separate how close you are. How good it feels to press his chest to your chest, not even a single inch separating you. His kisses go gentle and messy, moving against yours in a gentle rhythm just like his hips after he gives you a second to grow used to it. Rocking just a little.

Hoseok has heard the others talk about your pussy, those moments that he tried to block out at the beginning and then started to file away once loving you got more real. But for everything he's heard from his packmates, nothing compares to the reality.

The closeness. The way your hips fit. The hot- too much- clench around him.

He understands a little maybe, fully buried in you for the first time, why they talk about it so much. Why Jungkook had slipped it into dirty talk a few times with Namjoon and why it had made him growl and cum so quick. Why Tae had teased Yoongi for hogging you.

Your pussy feels like an inside joke in all the best ways, the kind of inside jokes that always have you feeling both known and loved. You can’t remember what you used to laugh about when you were a teenager and if asked Hoseok would fail to describe why sex with you feels so full. Why it feels like highlights and golden ages, the golden hour drenching you. It’s not sex for pleasure’s sake and it's not sex for closeness's sake either- although that’s part of it.

It’s not sex at all, it's making love. With Hobi, it’s making love from the beginning.

It's not instincts and mating bond urges. It’s not one submissive giving to a dominant. It’s not about protection and safety even though that's there or because you're an omega and he's an alpha. Because he's a man and you're a woman.

It's just love, that's it.

And it doesn’t hurt at all. For either of you.

The eye contact is never ending, his warm and fucked out the more he rocks. Gentle at first and building up frantic. Hobi doesn’t fuck like the rest of the pack does either; he doesn’t speak, letting out these quiet heavy breaths and shushing your squeaks with soothing alpha grumbles. His thumb wiping away the few overwhelmed tears that slip out and a smile swallowing your hiccuping breaths.

"Fuck” he breathes, moving his hips a little faster. His stomach presses to yours damp and tacky with sweat. Hoseok’s doesn't fuck in and out all the way, hardly moving away from you at all. Just rocking in deep.

Hobi doesn’t stop hitting every spot, comfortable with these unending rocks of his hips, maddening in the way that he never stops filling you. Never pulls out even half way.

Your hands weakly clench in the blankets of the nest as he twitches right there. That sensitive spot inside of you that feels like courting ecstasy when he nudges it. It’s the same spot that Yoongi likes to tease at, the spot that only his long fingers can reach properly and Tae’s too when she’s really trying. Ghosting over it and petting at it until you’re mad with pleasure.

But Hobi doesn’t tease, Hobi just gives. rubbing against it again and again with every gentle roll of his hips.

you put your hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpers when he pulls back, sitting up just a little. Holding your waist and forcing your body further down on his cock, nudging it as deep as it can go and you sob.

Hobi grins, a little cocky, a little pleased that despite his size compared to the others you're still equally as wrecked.

“Right there yeah?” he teases, and then rocks against it again. thumbs pressing against your stomach where he cradles you. waist so tiny that they almost meet when he holds you.

Your cheeks are hot, and you have to turn and whimper into the pillow. he lets you shift so that you're belly down in the nest and he's behind you glued to your backside. lying his weight down behind you like a blanket. pressing you into the nest where you'll stay like a good pup.

Hoseok instincts are absolutely purring. omega, getting bred in such a pretty nest. Good warm soft omega.

Your hand laces with the blanket, needing something to hold onto and he kisses the back of your neck, treading your hands together as he keeps going. This new position lets him rock in even deeper, putting his weight behind it.

“If you keep going, I’m not gonna be able to-”

His breath ghosts your ear, lips dragging down the column of your throat to nip and suck gently at your scent gland, marking you there. his hand presses, holding you to the bed as he rocks harder. His barely formed knot already inside and growing, getting you closer and closer as it thickens. Keeping him right there at the spot and you on the edge. You're so wet it's making noises, soaking and dripping down his cock.

He kisses your mating mark, nipping at it, and you’re gone.

You cum, a wet gush around his knot and a broken whimper. a growl in his throat sounds loud in the empty house. It sounds like made mate happy, made omega cum for me. Hoseok's Alpha is absolutely preening watching your Legs shake, the nape of your neck sweaty, body slack and head tilting to bear your neck. both of your bodies messy from it, filthy and blushing with love.

Hobi’s not far behind, rocking another time, a third, a quiet satisfied breath into the back of your neck before his knot pops locking you together as he cums so gently. No growls or gasps, just hot spurts that fill and satisfy you. Knot popping and Locking you so close you can feel his cock pulse. So close you can feel the same heartbeat on his lips when kisses you, hurried kisses pressed to the nape of your neck that quickly go slack with sleep.

Your hand settles across your stomach, and oh- you realize why hobi wasn't bothered by how wet he got you earlier. He just keeps cuming, so much that it's leaking a little around his knot. You're not sure that Jimin or Tae or Yoongi cum this much, Namjoon definitely does- but thats kinda proportional.

he just keeps going, heat flooding you. Maybe he's only cumming so much because it's the first time, and he needs to claim you from the inside out. you're a little too dizzy to figure it out.

You feel like you might pass out. You don't know if it's squirt or cum or just sweat when he lies himself over you. cuddling closer despite the mess. Teeth at your bared throat, Sucking softly, Soothing.

instincts are kind of embarrassing at best, irrationally hot at worse. you squirm a little closer so that his knot goes deeper.

The sunlight spills across your cuddled forms, still underneath the big thick blanket. He doesn’t pull out, the knot keeping him snug tight. His hand is on your cheek, rubbing up and down your jaw. He pulls the blanket up around you. And neither of you says a word as your rapid breathing calms.

You’re not sure who falls back asleep first. Only that he wraps his arm around you and pulls you back on top of his chest, cuddled there. Knot warm and safe inside of you.

knotted together like this, you're finally finally close enough.

~-~

When Hobi wakes you’re watching him and his dick is out. Wet and slick and cold.

That would certainly cause him to be alarmed if it wasn’t for your expression; a little pale. Hands between your legs and looking at the doorway.

You just really don't want to drip cum onto the couch, like- obviously. Hobi didn't hurt you. But the brief terror at waking up uncuddled and so suddenly douses Hobi like a bucket of cold water.

The cold might be the actual reason for his sudden wakefulness. The wintry air in the room is jarring because the house is finally heating up. (as much to do with the heating system doing its job as it is with your activities earlier that turned the windows all hazy with condensation).

It's like someone had just come in and then abruptly left again. Your cheeks are pink, and there is a cloth on the side of the couch, folded and warm. You didn't get it for yourself.

“Don’t freak out, but Yoongi and the others walked in while you were asleep.”

You’re kind of glad that he wasn’t awake to see your mate barely contain his screech, jumping up and down with Jungkook in the entryway. Namjoon’s subtly grinning expression when he took in your appearance and paused in the cold doorway breathing in deeply. Tae wrapped around one arm; their walk interrupted by his return from surgery.

He groans, barely awake enough to think about the visual that Yoongi and the others were treated to. The consequences are better than a shot of expresso at wakeing him up.

But really, was there ever a possibility that the others wouldn’t find out about this? Does Hoseok even want them not to know?

He's too tired, too think about this logically.

Hoseok wonders why he didn’t wake to you holding him. He’s seen you hold the others, hold Namjoon in the morning when you smell like him. The way you wake slowly and run your fingers through their hair. The other alphas have a habit of cuddling up to rest their head against your chest. Hobi remembers that day by the beach when you pet his hair, he wants you to do that now.

But he can't fucking ask. Asking you to cuddle him would be fucking embarrassing.

“Shit." He shakes off his neediness and easily locates his boxers in the mess of the nest because they're bright red. Surreptitiously tucking his now soft and deflated knot back inside. You look away, letting him have that moment of privacy without comment. Your arms curl around your chest, you’re still nude from the waist up. thighs clenched togeather.

“Yeah uhm, they went back out to like- give us some space.”

"Did they say anything?"

You look away, wiggling over to the edge of the nest. "No. But they looked like they wanted to say a whole lot.”

You definitely don’t say that you heard their scuffle, Namjoon and Tae using their alpha privileges to wrangle an overly excited Yoongi and Jungkook. or that both of them had come back inside, both with pink cheeks smelling sweet at the sight of Hobi’s face pressed to your neck and the fresh hickeys at your throat.

(Hobi’s hickeys are always so small and cute. Tae can’t wait to take a picture and save it, for memory's sake. She’s half tempted to take out her phone and snap a picture of the two of you now.)

Your hiss of “Don’t say anything, I swear to fucking god if you wake him-" cured her of any bad ideas and had Namjoon grinning, his dimples showing.

Yoongi’s finger pressed to his lips in the doorway. Smiling wide and showing his gums. Omegas do get awfully protective over alphas in their nests. Especially post-knotting.

You’re honestly a little surprised that their muted shouting hadn’t woken Hobi. The closed door had kept out the cold but not the sound of them discussing on the porch; mostly Tae's insistence that they needed to get out of the house for lunch instead of heading back inside.

“But what if they need aftercare?”

"We shouldn’t leave them alone and unprotected.” (Classic Joonie).

“Yeah! What if they need cleaning!”

Yoongi snorts, “Gross Jk- I’m pretty sure the last thing they want is you licking up Hobi’s cum.”

“But he always likes it when it’s Jinnie-" that had your face and body heating (although that could just be Hobi- a literal furnace that he is wrapped around you).

Now his warmth is on the other side of the nest yet it feels impossibly farther away. As you both stew in silence under the weight of what you’ve done, what you just did.

Everything feels quiet and scary as you put yourselves back together in silence. You use the wet washcloth to keep yourself from dripping all over the couch while he looks for his pants in the mess of blanekts that smell like sex.

Thoughts like shit shit shit and what have you done ping-ponging back and forth across his brain. Mind bouncing between unlikely personal regrets and likely female rejection (of which he is only too familiar with).

Hobi doesn't like feeling rejected, it always brings up bad memories. He didn't wake up to you holding him. Is that a rejection or is his brain just making it up? People always hold each other after sex. Don't they?

You reach for his sweatshirt but before you can touch it a growl bursts forth from his throat and you freeze.

Hoseok scrubs a hand across his eyes, trying to wipe away the memories fitfully. Maybe it’s just because of the fact that he woke up and you weren’t wrapped around him. He's going to have to cuddle you himself if he wants it right now.

This first time with you reminds him of other first time's that didn’t end well. He's sorry for it the second it slips past his lips.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just- my fucking instincts feel like they're on fire."

“So can I…?” you trail off. Your skin has goosebumps again. And Hoseok doesn’t know if it’s the casual nakedness that has him feeling so unmoored. A blush trailing its way up the back of his neck even though it shouldn’t be weird. He saw you shirtless every other hour during Namjoon’s rut for Christ’s sake.

“Yeah, just wear it- please wear it.” He can’t take back his growl, but he can meditate by watching you pick it up and hug it to your chest. Looking at him for a second as if to check that it’s still alright and he’s not going to snap at you again.

There is a hickey on your shoulder, the spot where it meets your arm. Hobi doesn’t know if it’s from him or someone else. It's a little too red to not be new. You don’t look uncomfortable being nude in front of him.

If anything, you look a little bit glowy.

You look at him and then pull it over your head. His cheeks still heating stubbornly as your chest moves a little, jiggling.

Why do girls have to just- girl all the time- it's honestly a little unfair how much hobi blushed.

He watches you, sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but his boxers as you stand up pulling the sweatshirt down your hips. He stares at you until you ask a little flustered by hiding it, “What?”

He tugs on the hem of his sweatshirt, slowly, carefully, leaning forward as he tugs on one of the strings with his teeth. His hands go to your waist pulling you close gently, half sure of himself and half afraid. Hoseok is always somehow half afraid. Is this allowed? Is this wanted?

He rests his head against your stomach, loosely twining his arms around your waist to pull you closer, still loose enough that you can step away if you want. All of this can stop if you don’t want it. He hopes you know that.

Hoseok looks down at your feet, not at your face. “I love it when you wear my clothes. I really don't know where that came from.”

“Careful,” you say, a grin in your voice. Your tone light because you don't want him to smell so sour again. “I’m gonna go for your pants next.”

You snatch his from the floor and dart away. Nothing excites an alpha’s instincts like a chase, and Hobi feels the fire light down his spine. His movements are a hunt-heavy blur. Brain honed in on you.

He catches you by the counter, your giggle echoing off the high ceilings. His blood heating again as he drags you by your hips and flops down into one of the bar stools, sitting you on top of him with a growl.

His hands grip hard around your waist, determined until he’s shy. Letting you go softly, “Sorry I just-”

“Instincts still? Don't worry I get it.” You give him his pants and sit up off his lap so that he can put them on. And now is not the time to get another boner Hobi- but it’s kind of hard not to when you smell so bred, so wholly satisfied.

Hobi did that. Hobi's the one who made you look like this drowning in the afterglow.

Your own instincts are telling you that you want to take the blankets from the couch and drag them upstairs, and tuck them in around the scents of the others. So that they can all see and smell how good you made your alpha feel.

Hoseok’s pleasure leaves an undercurrent to the air that’s intoxicating. Half sugar-sweet and musky alpha. Your body hums with it as he steps up close behind you, close enough you can feel his warmth and not his body, nose skimming the bruise he left close to your mating mark. Letting out a tired sigh.

You did just work off a lot of energy, regardless of the half-nappy half-cuddle fucking that just was; It's also left you fucking hungry.

As much as the kitchen has been a place of anxiety for you it really isn’t with Hobi there. There is still that tape line on the floor that guards you off from the stove, sink, and the fridge. Hobi steps out from behind you and goes to the fridge, getting out some of the prepped fruit that Yoongi almost always keeps on hand.

But you keep looking at the kitchen, the pans hanging above the sink, your mixer sitting dusty in the corner. The hanging mugs. Everything.

He brings it to you, setting it down in front of where you sit. instincts making his eyes fever bright. He watches a little too intently as you lift a raspberry to your mouth. Something about watching you eat cools his instincts, making him release a taught breath.

He watches as you lift another piece, a blackberry to your lips and bite down. Almost purring, too afraid of what might slip out if he speaks. He half wants to do it himself and feed you from his fingertips. But that’s a little too embarrassing to consider.

A minute later, after you’ve eaten half a dozen more pieces, he reaches past you, about to get a piece of peach. He doesn't think anything of it, but when he reaches past your face- you flinch.

It happens so quick that he almost doesn’t even catch it. One second your cheek is turned straight and the next your eyes are darting from him to the bowl. Scent souring with fear and memories from Geumjae.

Fuck. (No cuz actually- fuck Geumjae.)

You don’t look at him with fear, you just look at him with a strange sort of sadness in your eyes. Sorry. Like you’re sorry for being scared. hoseok's hand goes tight on the counter.

"I'm sorry."

Hobi sits down. Holds your hands in his, and waits for a second before he speaks. makes his words quiet and gentle because anger at someone dead and gone has no place here.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You have nice hands, warm where they press into his. And he cradles them, your knuckles flexing vaguely in his grasp, gentle but commanding.

“You’ll try not to, you mean."

You smile at him sadly. Hobi’s chest is tight with it. He needs you to know how much he means those words. How much he needs to mean them. But you both know how hard it is to promise that.

"No. I mean I’m not going to hurt you. Ever.” He repeats. You smile at him sadly again. And he knows his brief anger earlier when you touched his sweatshirt- usually such a normal thing for you- didn't escape you at all. But grief and mourning and memory always finds you at the worst times; after first times and on sunny winter afternoons.

The two of you are a mess, bodies teeming with the memories of failed loves, lost and broken. But you can ignore your triggers; such innocuous things as you wearing his sweatshirt and him reaching past your face. You can ignore your memories; the wretched and rotten ones, just for today.

You let the heavy moment pass and look at the other side of the kitchen. Hobi’s chest feels tight with something. Something that he needs to say but can’t just yet. You can only tell someone you love them for the first time once. You don’t get a second chance.

Hobi just wants to get it right.

You’re looking at the kitchen that Yoongi made for you, holding his hand still. using the other to feed yourself more fruit.

(Is there anything more intimate than holding hands with someone? It feels like more than the pads and lines of his fingers are pressed to yours. soul to soul and palm to palm. The future is written out right there but you ignore it. Love line, health line, fate. But the two of you are dedicated to writing your own end. Your love line is exactly the same length as his, not a millimeter longer).

Hoseok’s chest is still all tight. “What are you thinking about?”

“I haven’t made anything in months.” You sigh, sad. “I want to. I used to love baking, I used to-” you break off, sorrow making you quiet.

Hobi’s eyes are fixed on your shoulder. There are freckles there. He’s not sure why he’s never noticed them before or that you’ve got them dotting your back.

Hobi swallows past something in his throat. Pushing you gently from your chair until you're standing next to him. Cupping your waist because now that he's started touching you it's hard to stop. Now that he knows he’s allowed to touch you so casually, so affectionately, he going to keep doing it.

“Go. I’ll watch you, make sure you stay safe.” Because that’s the rule, isn’t it? Not that you can’t be in the kitchen at all, just that you need someone there to keep you safe.

The words feel tight in his throat, not easily said. I love you. He thinks as he watches you move to the mixer with a small but pretty smile that looks like daisies have taken root on your skin, everything sweet and flowering.

I love you. He thinks as he watches you get your cookbook from behind the mixer. I love you he thinks when he watches you place a mug from that morning in the sink. I love you he thinks as you get the sugar, the vanilla, the salt. He has to get up and get the flour for you, unwilling to have your arms strain underneath the heavy container, doting on you just because he can.

Just because he wants to, just because he loves you.

The shadow of what’s left on the bag hits his dark clothes like a ghostly outline when he holds it. The flour is a bit like you; everywhere he touches it leaves an impression. The rainbows from his suncatcher you put in the kitchen shift with the angle of the sunlight, winking out one by one as dusk falls.

He sits at the kitchen island and watches as you hum and flick through your recipe book. Golden hour fades to orange and pink the same way that roses fade.

He’s not sure why he blurts it out, why he asks, “What’s your favorite?”

You look up from your cookbook, everything is set out but still, the recipe is undecided. “What?”

Hobi can not look at you for this, instead looks at the kitchen island and the old butcher block countertop. Fingers toying along the edge where a knife left a gash.

“You always make everyone else’s favorites; Namjoon’s honey cakes, coffee-flavored things for Jin, the vegan stuff for Jungkook you know- but-” his eyes flick up to you in a moment of bravery. “What’s yours? What's your favorite?”

You think for a moment, a kitchen apart, fingers tapping on the countertop and Hobi can’t take his eyes off of you. His body feels a little achy but in that ‘was just fucked good’ sort of way that makes his breath deeper. Quieting some alpha part of him that always wants a little more. A little more scenting, a little more validation, a little more attention.

But everything can wait.

“My favorite thing to eat or my favorite thing to make?”

“Both. Either.” You glance at the clock. Going to the pantry for a second to double-check that you have everything you'll need. “I’ll have to make some of it from scratch but-" you look at him. “Do you have time?”

Hobi nods. “As long as you need.”

Hobi watches as you measure out the flour and sift it. Hobi watches as you wait for the eggs to get to room temperature and fucks with the playlist. His phone will eventually get splashed with coco but- it’s okay.

All of this is okay, all of this is I love you I love you I love you and I don’t know what to do with all of it, can you take someone it, please. I don’t have enough space in my body to hold all of it. Hoseok doesn’t speak for how sheer the impulse is just to blurt it out.

The yellow plastic mixing bowl keeps clattering against the counter as you stir the egg yolks until they froth up and fizz. Pouting you turn your eyes to him. “Can you help?”

Hoseok has to swallow back the words before they slip past. Hopping up a little too quickly. “Yeah of course.”

You don’t tell him what you’re making, let him guess. So many of your recipes need egg whites and vanilla. You let him put it together on his own. Hobi doesn’t peek at your recipe book and spoil the surprise.

Every action, every spoonful of sugar is I love you too, just say it. You don’t talk about the sex you just had and you don’t say I love you to him. You wait for him to say it first. You don’t say a thing besides; “Just a half teaspoon of that; drizzle it a little at a time, or else it clumps together. Good.” Hobi’s cheeks heat with every bit of praise and you have a lot of it for him.

Hobi looks away when you look up from the bowl, oh so carefully folding the batter and egg whites together. So gently that the hiss and bubble of whipped egg yolks disintegrating is hardly audible.

Hobi hasn’t baked since he was a kid; since he got into his head that chocolate chip cookies were totally something that an eight-year-old should be able to make on their own without adult supervision and almost burned his parents’ apartment to the ground. He tells you the story and you laugh.

He can tell that you’re making adjustments as you go. Adding in a bit of cinnamon, piping off the cookies in neat little lines, and then tapping them oh so carefully to get rid of the bubbles.

The stove preheats and then the tray goes in, filling the room with your scent. That cakey baking aroma that has him resting his head back against the cabinets when you sit on the floor and greedily breathing in.

You wait the 30 minutes like that, sitting on the floor between the cabinets and stove. Your feet pressed to his knees and a glass of lemonade between the two of you.

“You really like baking,” he says, and your eyelashes flutter, you must be getting tired. He takes your feet into his lap, using his hand to massage up your calf. Smiling when you sigh.

“Yeah, it makes me feel- I don’t know. I like making the world sweeter, just a little. Even if it’s just my little corner of it. Making things you guys like makes me happy too.”

“You know, you could go to culinary school if you wanted.” Hobi gets a little shy because you hadn’t explicitly told Jin and Namjoon not to tell anyone about your plans or your application (still pending). It will be a few more weeks until you find out, but that change is just on the horizon.

He's already seen Jimin perusing expensive leather bookbags and has overseen a recommendation letter coming from Namjoon’s email. Hobi might have read it for him to double-check because Hobi always notices things the others might gloss over. Jin and Tae had given it proof read too.

You make a noise in your throat, halfway between a hum in approval and a hum in distaste. “I don’t know, it seems like- a lot to do for a hobby.”

Hobi and you are the only two in the pack who wanted to go to college but didn’t. Couldn’t in your case because Geumjae wouldn’t let you and flunked out in his. He gets the lack of clarity in your voice; to go back or not go back. To try again or not try at all and not worry about whether or not you’re enough.

“I already started applying anyway. Namjoon and Jin and Tae put a lot of effort into helping me apply and-” You let out a frustrated sigh.

Hobi shakes his head, “Doesn’t matter. You can change your mind.” There is always time. You tap your toes against his shins and he grabs your feet and you jerk, ticklish. And he almost almost gives in to the urge to tell you he loves you right then and there.

“But could you be happy? Doing this all the time?” You turn, putting your hand over your eyes to peer into the oven and make sure that the ladyfingers are rising properly. “Doing it every day? Would it make you happy?”

You pause, hand on the door before replying in a small voice. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe I could be happy.”

You stand with a crack of your knees, sticking out your hand for Hobi and almost falling into him when he truly uses your hand to help himself up.

“Come on, we’ve got to make the whipped cream next-”

It goes like that, you both talking, and Hobi fucking with the playlist. Thinking three little words and not saying them.

You let the ladyfingers cool for a few minutes while you make the expresso. Dunking them in quickly. Piping out the honey-flavored whipped cream in sticky little dollops. Shaking out the cocoa with a practiced hand.

You make the caramel for the top last. Sugar-burning, glass-like little strands on top for a bit of crunch.

The tiramisu is a delicate creation, the layers perfectly spaced out in just the right ratio of cream to chocolate. You let it sit for a second in the fridge and when you take it out, you cut it into a single perfect little square and put it on a plate for him. Treading over the blue painter’s tape line and lingering by him where he sits.

“Try it.” You ask and he does obediently.

Hobi takes a bite of it, rolling the flavors around his tongue while you watch. You haven’t cut a piece for yourself just yet, but you have a fork. You stand on the other side of the kitchen island and take a bite from the other corner of the pan, humming happily when the taste hits your tongue.

It really is your favorite. You grin at the plate, “I could finish this whole thing in one sitting.”

Hobi takes another bite. It’s really good, the flavors are simple but delicate, each of them identifiable but yet cohesive. He could eat all of it too.

Hoseok swallows and realizes why it's your favorite; It tastes like all of you- like the pack.

The honey whipped cream is Jin and Jungkook, and the chocolate cocoa on top is your mate; dark chocolate like an Oreo cookie. Hobi thinks it might not be normal cocoa. The homemade ladyfingers are soaked through with Namjoon's coffee and the cake itself is a delicate dance of Tae’s cinnamon, Jimin’s vanilla, and your scent too. Buttery and yummy.

He's finished half of what's on his plate before he realizes that you added the crunchy layer on top, the caramel too.

That’s Hobi isn’t it? The Burnt sugar sweetness. He knows that’s not typical but still, you added in anyway. The smell of caramel is thick in the air. Sweet sweet sweet. Hobi always smells the sweetest when he’s falling in love.

The tiramisu tastes like the whole pack. Like love soaked threw. Hobi’s heart and body is full of it.

He thinks this might be his favorite too.

Hobi tries to blink back the wetness, really tries not to cry as he takes another big bite. He gets a little bit of whipped cream on his lip, licking it and sniffling. You pause, a bite hovering between the plate and your mouth before you set down your fork with a clink.

“Oh Hobi”

The space between you is nothing more than air as you quickly head around the kitchen island. You cup both of his cheeks and he sags into the touch, hands instantly going over yours to keep them there. Tears spilling warm and unabated down his cheeks.

Hobi decides right then he is beyond pretending that he doesn’t want it, that he doesn’t want you. Wet cheeks and imploring eyes.

“Oh Hoseok, what’s wrong?”

You’re standing between his legs and your collarbone rests against his cheek. Your hand runs through his hair and his heart pulses hard.

"I didn’t mean to make you cry. If this is because-” you trail off. You don’t say that you shouldn’t have had sex earlier because you can’t find it in yourself to regret this even a little bit. But you are sorry for not doing it in a way that didn't make him cry. If that's why he's crying.

“No it’s not that. I just-" Hoseok can hardly speak his mouth is so full of love that it bursts from him before he has a chance to think it through. Sobbing a little as he says it;

"I'm crying because I love you and I don’t know how to tell you.”

Hobi stutters and your hands on his cheeks go firm for a second before they relax. “I love you; I love being around you, I love that you're my best friend and that i get to love you too. I love living in this house with you. I’m crying because for the first time I get it-”

He can’t stop the confession now that it's started, and if he'd just open his eyes he'd get to see your smile but they're screwed shut tight.

“I get it, I get why once Yoongi met you, he couldn’t leave. I understand why he brought you back to us. But-” he hiccups and you giggle a little at the sound. His eyes shoot open and he realizes that you're crying too- that you haven't stepped away. You wipe away his tears with your thumbs and grin down at him.

“I'm so fucking afraid too- I can’t help but feel like the way we started just- fucked everything up. I fucked everything up back then by being jealous. I look at you and I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

You hold his face in your hands and think; I will be gentle with you, I will be gentle with you even if it kills me. You have never loved someone broken like you, and you know how easy it is to make a wrong step. But you’re sure when you say the words anyway.

“You won’t.”

“But-” you kiss his hands, knuckles, fingertips. His forehead, his lips Everything. Your eyes are focused and Hobi can’t look away.

“You won’t, you promised not to hurt me and you won’t.”

He falls silent, and you pull him in close. His lips still tingle from your kiss and you kiss him again, long and lingering, hard with the force of your conviction. It tastes like tiramisu.

When you break apart, Hoseok rests his ear on your heart and listens.

You should say I love you back, you really should return the words. But you think there will be other moments to say them. You'll say it when you wake up with him tomorrow morning, you'll say it when you fall asleep tonight curled close to him. There will be more time to say them- during a late-night drives when you look over at him in the dark. There are always going to be more times to say it and you’ll say it and mean it every time.

Unfortunately, life isn't so neat and tidy.

You wipe his cheeks and he wipes yours and you both giggle, leaning into each other. You get him a tissue for his nose and start laughing all over again. Being with Hobi will always be like this, half your lover and half your best friend.

“Do you want to go on a drive later, only,” you wipe tears from your own eyes, “want to take the others this time?”

He smiles, “That’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

He tries to pull you in for another kiss but you feed him a bite of tiramisu instead and it gets half on his cheek, “finish your cake alpha,” you command, and Hobi is perilous to disobey. the next bite you take ends up on your cheek too because he tickles you, and you blush when he leans forward to lick it off your cheek. All giggly and happy and close. You sat practically on the edge of the counter. Noodle meows and laps up some of it from the floor.

You don’t need to say I love you back, you already have. Hobi can taste it on the edge of every bite.

You cut him another piece and share it this time, and he can't stop looking at you, can't stop smiling.

You smile around a mouthful, "i'm gonna tear up that train ticket."

"Don't you fucking dare. We've gotta like- put it in a scrap book or something."

You clean up the tiramisu, thinking of what might happen when the pack gets back, thinking of how things will go now that you’ve settled this. They’ll be happy; all of you all together finally. This last piece of your little family finally falling into place.

Maybe it will go like this:

Maybe when the pack gets home, there will not just be tiramisu on the counter. Maybe there will be gluten-free lemon bars and honey cakes. Chocolate ginger cookies dusted with powdered sugar and freshly baked bread with cheese and garlic. Little personal cheesecakes that you made in a muffin tin dotted with jam preserve because now that you’ve started to bake again there might not be anything to stop you.

You already feel the urge in your hands, the urge to make things. You think it might have been learned from Yoongi.

Maybe they’ll come home with pizza, unsure if a party and alcohol is really the proper way to go about celebrating, but the cake from the bakery that Tae will buy as a joke, will have flowery lettering and “congrats for losing your Hobi-ginity"

It will make you laugh until your lungs ache like the fireworks have gone off. Will make him blush and rub the back of his neck in shyness.

When they come home there might be a few sly comments but the pack knows when to tease and when not to. Maybe Namjoon will take a hearty sniff at Hoseok’s throat, dragging it up and down the nape of his neck, huffing happily. (Namjoon has always been a little bit possessive of Hoseok the same way Jin has always been possessive of you, but that's pack alpha's for you).

Tae will tuck your hair behind your ears to get a better look at the mark he left on your throat, manicured fingers gently stroking over it. and Yoongi will shoot him a challenging look and drawl, "really daisy? is this really something you wanna start?" all playful. the way yoongi only gets when he's really really happy.

And when Jin gets home, Maybe he’ll drag you over his lap with some squirming because there is no avoiding this hole check. Not when Jin and the others have been waiting.

Under the hungry eyes of the rest of the pack, you would still squirm. Your mate watching and grinning as he nibbles a piece of pizza and just watches as Jin pulls your sleep shorts down to your knees. Leaving them there to pin your thighs together. Hand against the small of your back to keep you still.

Of course, the pack omega has to look after the two of you and make sure the lowest on the hierarchy is being safe without a stronger presence nearby. But your entrance is pink fucked warm, not red and inflamed. Hoseok’s knot is the perfect thing to warm you up, and Jin tugs his sweatshirt over your hips to keep you warm as he examines you.

Fingers drag your entrance apart to show the others how good hobi did. Prompting them to touch and feel for themselves, all of their fingers teasing at your entrance and all of them touching you. Tae and Jungkook holding your thighs, Jimin and Namjoon resting their hands on your ass to help jin hold you open better and yoongi prodding to feel-

They'd want to see his cum slip out, forced from your hole by your needy clench. Of course, they'd just fuck it back inside because not a drop can go to waste. one set of fingers and then another, jungkook leaning down to taste.

Jin’s eyes would be all dark eyes and honey tones, looking hoseok up and down, cheeks as red as the sweatshirt you wear. His praise makes Hobi feel just a little bit too proud for his own good.

Hobi would probably get a knot-check for that, because if the alpha has something to be proud of then surely the others need to check his ego (and only in the way that hobi likes).

The alphas would scuffle with him a little, wrestling to settle him. Hobi's instincts are still fever bright and he needs to be put in his place. To feel the pack for what they are; very necessary safety bumpers.

He'd go so easily after a few nips- Jimin would help pull his pants down so Namjoon could get his big hands around him, fingers teasing at the red skin around his base and making Hobi growl and gasp. Pausing to cup lower and make sure Hoseok's empty, that he didn't hold back breeding you. Tae would tutt and make him open his mouth, her finger teasing along his teeth just for shits and giggles. Just to make him groan.

Nothing makes an alpha more proud than getting to show off his teeth.

Jin would smile at the display, and croon. “Good alpha.”

Maybe Jin will pat your pussy lips softly before pulling your pants up, making you flinch and then relax and jungkook would bend down to give Hoseok's knot a little kiss before standing.

The whole thing would take maybe 5 minutes but it would leave the whole pack ravenous for more. The final evidence of this finally happening; all of you together and not fragmented.

As you should be, together.

Maybe later, after treats and pizza, you'll all get to go to the beach like Hobi promised. Two separate cars. And Namjoon might let Hoseok and Jimin do donuts in the empty parking lot without too much fuss. The smell of tires and gasoline ripping.

Jungkook whooping and Yoongi watching on with his grin, Jin in the back seat with you going “Oh- oh hope- slow down” looking a little green. But terrorizing the pack omega is kind of your job.

It’s cold and late at night but you’ll tear out across the sand. Running to the shore. Tossing your shoes into the dark and toeing into the waves. Yelling happy.

You and Hobi will try and throw Yoongi into the water and then the other alphas will actually succeed in throwing Namjoon, pushing him until he inevitably tumbles into the seafoam. All 7 of you will try and wrangle Jungkook into the same wet fate and fail.

Jin will tuck Namjoon’s wet hair back behind his ear and grin at him, his grin saying the words they don’t need to. Kisses tases like secrets and salt but that much has not changed. Might never change when it comes to the eight of you. All the secrets in the world couldn’t keep you apart.

You’ll get zoomy in the way that dogs get in wide-open spaces. You’ll run. Your feet slapping against the sand, tossing spray into the air as high as your laughter, chasing after each other. A bunch of barefoot kids in too-big bodies and sand between your toes. Hands clasped tight in each other’s so that you won’t let go. You won’t ever let go now that you've found them.

For once you'll be absent of all the things that drag you down. Lighter than the warm air that billows over the sea. Mouths that store special secret salty smiles for the better. Damp fingers that curl against warm wrists. holding onto each other tight even though you’re running and running-

Running.

Maybe.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, what happens is this;

You are sitting at the kitchen counter when Hobi gets a text. It’s from Jungkook asking about the pizza types that you’d want and

Yoongi’s left his phone, he says with a little 👀 emoji. But he won’t truly tease the both of you until he gets home. Of course Yoongi was too distracted by you and Hobi post coitous to grab it from the other room.

you to to the pantry to put away the flour and this close- you can hear another phone ring from the bathroom. It's it yours? Only No, it's not your phone sitting on the counter, but Yoongi’s. Lighting up with Jin’s contact information.

JinJinJin: 5 missed calls.

It's so like your mate to leave his phone in such a random place. You smile as you pick up.

Jin is already talking a mile a minute. Fear and panic make his words come quick and desperate.

“Yoongi- why the fuck didn't you pick up" You don't have time to respond. Don't have time to let him know it's not your mate but you that picked up the phone.

"I don’t know how the fuck it happened, I don’t know- but-“ he’s almost shouting over the phone, such raw panic in his voice that it has your body going frozen.

Jin lets out a broken sobbing breath.

"I shot Minnie.”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 Every little bit of encouragement helps <3

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

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Notes:

I ended up editing out a good portion of Hoseok ’s inner monologue at the begining, because I realized that at that point in time with the other pack he wouldn’t have been thinking stuff about how terrible it was because it wasn’t terrible yet. i probably should have even edited it fluffier if we're being honest. i think that would have been more unsettling.

The line where she says “One second you're holding back and the next you're kissing him like he's Yoongi and he's kissing you like he's starving.” Is a little hard to explain, she’s not thinking about Yoongi in that moment but the person she associates the most with love is Yoongi so- yeah it made sense. I feel like this line might make people go a little like “what??”

I swear if you guys didn’t cry a little at the ‘It doesn’t hurt at all.’ Parts I’m not doing this right because I was SOBBING.

Listen, I almost edited out the line where he calls her pussy an inside joke so many times- but for me- when I was younger I always wanted to be a part of inside jokes because like- if you are that means you’ve got history with someone- Hoseok is thinking this because until this moment- he hasn’t been able to be apart of something that the rest of the pack had understood.

When Hoseok was leaving a hickey over her mating mark it’s his way of saying “this is mine too 😠” to Yoongi,

Honestly??? Why is Hobi so feral in this like- he’s a /little/ unhinged from how much he wants her and tbh it’s fair. Look away if you don’t wanna read him going APESHIT for her.

ALSO- I’m just imagining him on the walk with jungkook and Tae, cheeks slowly pinking up because he can feel that they’re having sex down the mating bond, maybe getting hard and the others noticing, both of them plastering themselves along his side and teasing him with words like “do you think he’s making her all wet and messy hyung? Do you think she’s gonna cream around his cock like she creams around yours?” and Yoongi just- endlessly suffering around the two horndogs that are Tae on estrogen and jungkook on a regular day.

The moment where they’re holding hands and it’s talking about palmistry is a refrence to noah kahan’s song everywhere everything and the line “it’s been a long year, in all of our books pages dog eared, we write out the ends on our palms dear, and forget to read.”

The worst worst worst part about this chapter is that I don’t??? have a fucking recipe for the tiramisu?? Like I’ve made it before but I’ve never made honey flavored whipped cream or put caramel on top 🥺 maybe I’ll test it out one dayand update this chapter

Okay so the ‘flash into the improbable future at the end is a little too horny for the end of smutt but I couldn’t just /not/ put it in there because you know how I love a good hole check scene.

do you hate me because of this cliffhanger? even i have to say its a little unforgivable.

please be patient for next chapter because i do not have A SINGLE fucking word written for it. like nada, we're starting from scratch come monday.

~-~

Hobi's sex Playlist (jk isn't not a sex playlist)

Dominic fike- Mama's boy (hobis' flashback)

Mitski – my love mine all mine. (yoongi telling him to be good)

Lana del ray – chemtrails over the country club. (the sex)

Olivia Rodrigo – can’t catch me now (when they're both triggered from the respective abusive relationships)

Tom o’dell – black Friday. (Juz cuz)

552 notes · View notes

colormepurplex2 · 1 year

Text

Play With Fire | Going Up In Smoke

↳ Arsonist!Hoseok x Criminal!f.Reader ⤜ Infatuated Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA🔞 ⤜ WC: 4,079 ⚠️ talk of murder, outdoor sex, sub/dom tones, manhandling, fire play, creampie, orgasm denial/edging, praise, restraints, fingering, guns/someone gets shot, blood

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M continues, “The marriage is purely business, of course. But, now that our annulment period is over and her uptight accountant has finally signed me on as the sole benefactor of her estate, I don’t find myself much interested in actually being married to the withering old bitch. She stays in the loft above the boutique during the week, so she’ll be there tonight.”

Well, that’s news. “So, are we talking about a lot and luggage, then?” Hoseok asks. You know he and M have their own job-related lingo when it comes to things like this. You’ve pieced together some of it over the years. Lot on its own generally means a building and lot and luggage is a building plus any occupants.”

M is nodding before Hoseok finishes the question. “Lot and luggage. Once the job is done and you’re back from your little vacation, I want you both to consider coming on full-time. I’ll offer you a quarter of Maudette’s estate to split between the two of you.”

That’s big. M keeps a tight circle and it’s a rarity for him to invite someone inside. This is…you’re not even sure what words to use. “That’s— M, that’s a lot of money.”

“It’s inconsequential.” The dismissive way M speaks infuriates you sometimes. “Do the job, take your time off, and think about my offer. Ping me when you’re back on the radar and we’ll discuss it more then. For now, get the fuck off my boat.”

Just like that, you’re dismissed. You know you don’t have to ask about the money, it’ll be in your account, split between you and Hoseok, before you even set foot back on the dock.

“What do you think?” you ask Hoseok once you’re both back in the Chevelle.

A slow smile curves his lips. “We’ll talk about his offer later. Right now, I think you owe me a fuck on the roof of the car and then once the sun goes down we’re going to light up that boutique like it’s Christmas.” You can’t help but mirror his smile at the idea.

There is a perfect spot right off the highway on the way back into town. It’s secluded, a small pull-off over a bluff. You can easily miss it unless you know where to look, as it’s tucked away just after a curve in the road. This spot has easily seen more of your bare ass than an actual bed has.

On the drive, you teased Hoseok by pulling off all your clothes to don the red silk dress you snatched earlier. You loved the way he could barely keep his eyes on the road. There was a hunger in his stare and the way he kept licking his lips. With the car parked, his attention is now fully on you. It has you burning from the inside out.

“Grab the blanket out of the back,” you tell him before slipping out into the chilly air. The sun is setting, taking its mild warmth with it. Being in a strapless, short silk dress has chill bumps dancing along your exposed skin. It feels good, just on this side of painfully cold.

The hood of the Chevelle is still warm. Hoseok stretches out the fleece blanket across the shiny candy apple red surface. He let you choose the color the last time the car got a makeover. It’s a classic color, one that reminds you of fierce passion and dangerous chemistry.

“Get your ass over here,” Hoseok growls, grabbing one of your wrists and tugging you toward himself so hard that you let out a huff of air when you hit his hard chest. “You’re in serious trouble, baby.”

You poke out your bottom lip in a faux pout. “Aw, what did I do?” you simper playfully. You reach up and twist a hand into his dark hair, bringing the one still clamped in his grip to his chest. “Haven’t I been good?”

Hoseok lets out a dark laugh. “Oh, no, baby. I don’t think you could ever be a good girl, not when you’re filthy as fuck…just the way I like you.”

Using the hand in his hair, you force his mouth down to yours. He makes an obscenely primal sound in the back of his throat, more animal than man. His teeth catch your bottom lip in a savage bite making you suck in a stilted breath of surprise. Hoseok takes his free hand and slides it up under the skirt of your dress, trailing his fingers along the inside of your thigh.

“Mmm,” you moan, finally managing to rip your lip from between his teeth. “Fuck me,” you demand. Hoseok shakes his head, a rueful smile on his face. He shoves you around until your back is to his chest. You have no choice but to pull your hand from his hair and use it to brace yourself on the hood of the car when he shoves you forward until the tops of your thighs hit the front grill on the Chevelle.

“I can never decide what I like best; when you mouth off and get demanding or when you poke out that bottom lip and act all demure and shit.” His hands land roughly on your hips, pressing you harder against the car as he slides up your dress to expose your bare ass. The bite of cold steel burns against your thighs with your dress rucked up around your waist now.

You wiggle back against him, teasing. “How about you shut up and fuck me already.”

The blistering smack of his open palm against your ass has all the air leaving your lungs in a whoosh. “Say it again. I dare you.”

There is already arousal pooling along your slit. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear the rush of it in your ears. “Fuck. Me.” You enunciate the words, taking the bait because you know it’ll be worth it.

Hoseok shudders behind you. You hear the faint hiss of the zipper on his jumper sliding down. His slender fingers glide over the curve of your ass before sliding between your lower lips. “Your pussy is already weeping for me, it knows it’s about to be punished.”

You can barely hear him over your own ragged breathing. But, you’re so familiar with this song and dance you know what he’s saying without needing to hear the words clearly. A cry is wrenched from your throat as those toying fingers thrust inside in one quick motion.

The rhythm he sets is brutal. The air around you quickly fills with the smacking wet sounds of your body under assault from Hoseok’s touch. With his free hand, he gathers your wrists and pins them to the small of your back. You press a cheek against the fleece blanket, loving the way Hoseok dominates your body with both physicality and pleasure.

“No,” you whimper in protest when he suddenly pulls out his fingers, stealing away the orgasm that was quickly approaching.

Hoseok tuts softly, the sound coming out reminiscent of a purr. “What’s the safe word, baby?” he asks softly, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin of your wrists still pinned behind you.

“Burn,” you respond instantly. If Hoseok is asking for your safe word you know things are about to blur some lines.

You pant against the blanket, anticipation adding to the delightful ache between your thighs. There is a rustling of fabric behind you, what sounds like something being pulled against something else. A moment later you feel a length of fabric being wound around your wrists. The belt from Hoseok’s jumpsuit abrades the tender flesh with a gentle heat.

He pulls the knot tight, jerking your shoulders slightly. Satisfied, he hums in amusement as you begin to wiggle and test out the binding. “You’re not allowed to cum until I say you can. Do you understand?”

It takes you a moment to work enough moisture around your tongue to answer him. “Yes, sir.”

“Remember your safe word,” he says into the silence, like what he’s about to do requires a reminder so soon.

The distinct schick sound of a match head dragging along the strike strip on a matchbox is loud in the silence that follows his reminder. This is where the lines can blur. When you both ride a fine line between what you should do and what you actually want to do. You both want to experience the adrenaline rush that comes from the subtle kiss of a flame, but neither of you ever wants to hurt the other.

You feel the warmth from the match, smell the sulphuric burn in the air, before you hiss a breath between clenched teeth from the pinprick of pain as he snuffs the match out between one of your ass cheeks and his hip bone. You groan in unison, shuddering as you both get a hit of dopamine and a rush of endorphins.

The straining head of his cock bumps against your arousal-covered core. You can feel his quick breaths against your back as he lines himself up and then kicks his hips forward. Your forehead drops to the hood of the car and your scream is muffled into the blanket. From this position, Hoseok feels impossibly big. You love it.

Hoseok grips hard onto your hips, immediately setting a domineering pace that has you up on your toes and tears welling along your lash line.

“Oh god, oh god!” You bite into the blanket to keep from crying out too loudly.

“God doesn’t belong here, baby,” Hoseok grunts with a harsh laugh. “Nothing but me, you, and the devil inside of us.” Your walls flutter around him as you fight off the first wave of pleasure that threatens to make you cum. “Don’t you dare,” he admonishes, giving an extra brutal swivel of his hips before practically coming to a stop. “Fight it. That’s my girl.”

Pain meets pleasure and you ride a knife's edge between coherent thoughts and insanity. The intensity of Hoseok knows no bounds. Your ass aches, the small blister from the match getting repeatedly rubbed with every thrust as he renews his efforts once your struggle with control passes.

Though, you’re quickly back on that edge. “Hoseok,” you plead his name. “Please!” The second wave is harder to fight off than the first, your walls pulse in unison with his cock moving along them. He hits you just right, his thick head sliding against a spot that has your eyes squeezing shut. The way his hips press you forward has delicious pressure applied to your clit.

“Not yet, baby, not yet.”

Your response is a sobbed, “Please!” You dig your toes against the asphalt beneath them, never having bothered to put your shoes back on before getting out of the car. It’s a delirious feeling, trying to keep your body from a natural response like an orgasm. With every thrust, you slowly lose the battle. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, Hoseok finally relents.

“Cum for me, let go!” he moans loudly, hips jerking against your ass as his cock surges inside you. You can feel every pulse of his cum, deep within your undulating walls, making your own orgasm shudder through you. The pounding of your heart thuds heavily in your ears, mixing into a sultry melody with the breathy pants from Hoseok as he drapes over your back, boneless and spent.

You lay like that for several minutes, enjoying the comforting feel of each other. “You’re so good to me,” you murmur as he leans back enough to release your wrists from his belt.

Hoseok helps you to turn over so you’re sitting on the hood of the car, heedless of the cum dripping out of you onto the blanket. He takes each of your wrists and gently massages the red marks left behind. “I’m going to show you just how much you mean to me over the next two weeks, I swear it.”

He leans forward and presses his forehead to yours. You can barely see his eyes in the dark since the sun has long since disappeared beyond the bluff and horizon. What you can see, though, is endless adoration and glittering promises. You press a lingering kiss to his lips before smiling.

“I’m going to be kind of sad to see Ricque’s go up in flames. You think we’ll have time to grab a few things before we torch it?”

That makes him laugh. “Absolutely,” he assures, sweeping you into his arms and carrying you around to your side of the car. “Anything for you, baby.”

The street is mostly dark at this time of night. Restaurant Kim is dark save for the dim recessed lighting above the hostess stand. Park Hotel’s lobby is brightly lit, but you see the night guard is nowhere to be seen. It makes you wonder if M is at work here, ensuring a successful hit on Ricque’s. He holds that kind of power, that kind of sway over an establishment. You’re also fairly certain M is in bed with the Parks or vice versa. The underground rumor mill never ceases on the topic of M.

You changed out of the red dress, draping it delicately over the tiny backseat of the Chevelle before pulling on some black jeans, a long-sleeve navy shirt, and your bomber jacket. The short-heeled boots you wear are comfortable and easy to run in if needed. Hoseok is still wearing his white jumpsuit, but it doesn’t stand out nearly as much as you thought it might.

“Best access point will be between the hotel and Ricque’s, we can go in through the back entrance.” Hoseok talks in a low whisper as you both survey the area around the boutique.

“She went to bed well over an hour ago,” you think aloud. When you and Hoseok pulled up down the street, you watched the lights in the loft flip on and off as Maudette moved between them until all that was left on was a small lamp in what you assume is the bedroom. Then, that too went out. “Should be good and deep in a sleep cycle by now.”

“Let’s go. I say we have about two hours to get this done before the city starts to wake up around here,” he estimates with one last glance around the quiet street.

It’s a casual thing, approaching the building. You and Hoseok act like you’re just a couple out on a late-night walk, your arm linked through his and grins curving your lips. To anyone that might see you on the off chance, you’d just be another faceless couple on the street.

When the service alley between the hotel and the boutique comes up you both easily slip into the shadows and skirt your way down to the backdoor of Ricque’s. It’s still appalling just how little security there is here. No camera above the door, no bars on the windows, no sensors or alarms to sound when Hoseok jimmies the lock open and pushes inside. Like stealing candy from a baby. Not that you’ve ever done that, you prefer bigger targets and better prizes.

“I know exactly what I want,” you murmur into the dark back room. “Get started and I’ll be back in less than five.”

You leave him there, unloading the small satchel that contains bottles of accelerant. It’s impossible to ignore the small money chest you know Maudette keeps under the front counter. The lock pops easily and you shove the handful of stacks into your jacket pocket before moving on to your main target; the jewelry.

As much as you’d like to grab another designer dress or a blouse, maybe even a new pair of jeans, you know you need to stick to small items that you can grab quickly without worrying about digging through the racks to find your sizes. The jewelry case is near the front windows, so you approach it with added caution.

The faint sound of Hoseok emptying the cans of kerosine carries to you from across the boutique, followed by the familiar yet pungent oily smell you associate with it. You know he’s coating the walls and shoving a few glass bombs—homemade contraptions involving mason jars with spark detonators attached to the bottoms of the lids—in the overhead ductwork. That’s something you both discussed at length, how best to destabilize the structure of the building to do max damage. Taking out the ceiling support tends to do the job most effectively.

Getting the jewelry case open is easy, it’s not the first time you’ve breached it. There’s easily a quarter of a mil in gold and jewels that go into your pocket opposite the stacks of cash. Ecstasy is a fine word to describe how this kind of stuff makes you feel. The thrill, the danger, it’s as intoxicating as Hoseok is.

“Psst, baby, ready to go back here,” Hoseok calls to you in a whisper-yell.

You shut the jewelry case door out of habit but don’t bother with the lock. The leather of your gloves creaks as you flex your hands, taking one last glance around before heading back to Hoseok. Something out of the corner of your eye stops you in your tracks and you backpedal a step, eyes focused out the front window from where you’re crouched by the jewelry case.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper. A cold rush of panic douses the thrill from before. “Hoseok, we got to go!” Not wasting time trying to remain hidden, you spring into action dashing toward the back of the building. You hear shouts from outside following you.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asks, dropping the whispers as you have.

Before you can respond to him you see a distinct red circle light up in the center of his chest. You let your momentum carry you further, a small scream escaping as you hear the front glass of the boutique shatter and the echoing crack of a gun.

Bright white pain tears through your side, matching the bright flare of fire that ignites behind you. You land sprawled on top of Hoseok who’s yelling at you. “What the fuck! The lighter! Oh god, you’ve been shot!” His hands are all over you, tugging at your jacket and shirt.

Despite the blaring pain, you can tell it's superficial at most. “Just got clipped, I’m fine,” you hiss, shoving up into a crouch. The fire roars to life, quickly licking up the wall and leading right to one of the overhead vents. You cup your side, feeling liquid warmth soaking through your clothes. “We have to leave. Now! Before the roof comes down on us. That’s S.W.A.T outside, whatever happens…just go, please.”

Hoseok gives you a wild look, like the idea of getting separated or leaving you behind is ludacris. You know he’d rather die. It’s all or nothing. Together forever.

“I’ll never leave you,” he growls, fisting a hand in your hair and jerking your mouth to his for a quick, searing kiss. “Let’s go, baby, out the office window. That’s the best chance we’ve got.”

The front windows implode as you both scramble into the small office. With the front of the boutique open to the night air, the fire surges and consumes, fueled by the added oxygen. Heat beats against your back as Hoseok shoves open the small overhead window in the office. Smoke billows around you, making you cough and wheeze. Your side aches and every step you take makes you want to scream.

A rumbling crack shudders through the building, the ceiling supports moaning in protest to the fire eating away at them. “Go, I’ll be right behind you!” you have to yell over the roar of the fire and the yells from the S.W.A.T team and screaming horns from the fire engines out front.

You watch Hoseok disappear through the window just for his hand to reach back through for you. A smile momentarily graces your face before it’s replaced with a grimace as Hoseok helps hoist you up. Your side flares with a new wave of pain. A cold sweat breaks out along your forehead and your heart pounds with renewed panic when Hoseok finally gets you out of the window and onto the small roof of the maintenance shed beside the boutique.

“Two,” Hoseok whispers to you, nodding down toward the alley below. “I’ll get the one on the right if you can get the one on the left?” There’s a mild panic in his own eyes that you can tell he’s trying to ignore for your sake. He’s worried about you, you can see it in the way his eyes periodically flick to where your hand is clamped to your side.

You nod, using your free hand to pull out your switchblade. “Together,” you breathe.

“Together,” he echoes.

Killing people isn’t exactly something you enjoy. But, you don’t hesitate when it comes to your or Hoseok’s life for theirs. Hoseok executes a perfect drop-in, landing right on the shoulders of his guy and silencing his startled gasp by effortlessly snapping his neck. Your attack is slightly less graceful, but despite your bad fall, you make sure your blade lands true; right between the bottom of the guy's helmet and the top of his vest. His spinal cord shreds like damp paper beneath your blade.

Both guys fall with muted thumps to the ground. “Go!” you urge again. Hoseok wastes no time grabbing your free hand and hauling you along behind him toward the only viable escape now, along the backside of Restaurant Kim. The Chevelle is parked a few blocks away, thankfully in the opposite direction from the cacophony of activity and emergency vehicles.

“Stop or I’ll shoot!”

You’re pretty sure this is one of those piss-your-pants moments they talk about in movies. Though, your body is so high-strung with panic and adrenaline that you’re certain it’s lost all ability to function as it should. Hoseok doesn’t stop. You don’t want him to, either. But, you can’t help casting a glance back at the person who called out. If you’re going to get shot, again, you want to at least see who’s pulling the trigger.

“J.” His pseud comes out in a whisper but you might as well have screamed it. You’d recognize that hulking mass and stoic jawline anywhere. He’s dressed in full gear, a rifle raised in his hands pointed right at you. It’s silly, but you can feel his finger on the trigger, you know what’s about to happen.

But the shot never comes. Your gaze snaps from the gun back up to J’s espresso-colored eyes and you see at that moment he has no intention of pulling the trigger. That moment of hesitation is all you and Hoseok need to disappear out of sight.

The shouts of others joining J behind you carries faintly down the alley, barely heard over the pounding of your and Hoseok’s feet. He half-drags you all the way to the Chevelle. There are no words exchanged, just quick and near-panicked movements as he turns the engine over and peels away from the curb.

“Fuck!” he curses, slamming a hand against the steering wheel. “Baby, are you okay?”

You make a noncommittal noise because you, in fact, aren’t sure if you are okay. You’re pretty sure the bullet only clipped you but the pain in your side says it might be worse than you thought. Not life-threatening, though, unless infection sets in. You can’t go to a hospital. The small first aid kit in the trunk will have to do. But first, you both need to get as far away from here as possible.

Hoseok keeps driving, veering down another street, heading toward the outskirts of town and the coastline. When he slows down to take another turn, you glance out the window and meet the intense stare of M through a lowered car window. You can see the hatred there, flaring brightly as he realizes who he’s looking at.

“Hoseok,” you say softly into the quiet din of the car but loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the engine. “It was M.”

“What?”

“M must have ratted us out. The guy that almost got us in the alley was J and we just passed a car with M in it. It can’t be a fucking coincidence.” It’s hard to keep a level head and not scream at the top of your lungs.

Hoseok shifts in his seat. “I’ll kill him.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel, making the leather creak and groan.

“We will kill him.” You say with barely restrained reverence. All the years of loyalty and big-brothering? Nothing compared to the betrayal you feel now. “He wants to play with fire? He’s going to get first-hand experience as to why they say when you play with fire you’re bound to get burned.”

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#bts fanfic #bts smut #hoseok smut #bts hoseok #bts crime au #arsonist au #arsonist hoseok #criminal reader #hoseok x reader #dom jung hoseok #crime lord min yoongi #bangtanwhq

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kookslastbutton · 1 year

Text

prove it to me ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: "I'm not your baby Jungkook. Remember that." Those are the words you say right before jumping into a one night stand with Jeon Jungkook, the man who's constantly annoying you with his college fling stories. You decide maybe just this once you'll play into his game and prove that he's no more average than the rest.

Pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x fem!reader

AU/genre: PWP, smut, humor, fluff, one-sided e2l, friend of friends, oneshot (for now?)

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 5.3k+

Warnings: arguing, swearing, sexual tension, denial of feelin’s, kook’s kind of an @$$ but he got some truth to him, oc's jaded & not buying into kook's bs, myg being a good friend then ditching lmao, kook likes calling oc petnames, kook is bunny boy

sexually explicit content: dom!jk, switch sub!reader, semi-awkward first kiss, unprotected s*x (pls stay safe everyone!!), teasing, foreplay, dirty talk, some manhandling, rough sex, t*itty suck, f*ngering, penetration, cunnilingus, doggy, multiple orgasms (f. receiving), kooks calls her pretty girl, some degradation/dumbification (sl*t calling) & oc has bit of an actual dumby moment but she's still fairly rigid, but not a full brat? Lmao idk

Now playing: Monster in me, Breakfast, LOUD

A/N: ahdjsj?c it's here! 👉👈 a thousand apologies that this is out way later than planned! Uni getting most of my time 😟 But its here and I'm so pumped to share it with you guys!! Hope you enjoy 😗💕

Taglist:

@marcoazz2 @demiec0re @jcrl99 @muah-minhoe-8 @whoa-jo @jeongukkieeeeeeee @sweet4jenni @chanjwl @kimtaesss @jexizia @vexstrils @notchia @dollypoetry @cherrysoulth @burnahtsw @icantpickabiasugh @megaamonn

Jung freaking kook. Just look at him sitting over there, half-naked and wet. Sure, he’s got a towel thrown over a shoulder but it’s so small it’s doing fuck all to dry him off. Obviously he chose it on purpose. He thinks he’s such hot shit but you think he looks like a drowned rat.

And look! He’s got Namjoon’s apartment floor drenched with the pool water he tracked in! Man, if this was your place you’d be handing him a nice mop and bucket right about now.

"They were begging me to go a fourth round, but I was winding down, y'know?" Jungkook's voice echos obnoxiously off the walls. You mentally roll your eyes. He’s got a big mouth too. This must be your twentieth time hearing the same spiel about his little rendezvous with two chicks during undergrad. News flash Jungkook, you're not a god!

The guys are into it, though. You scan the room. Hoseok's on the verge of drooling, and Jimin can't stop grinning. Namjoon and Seokjin are leaning back in their seats, slight smirks pulling at the corners of their mouths. And Taehyung? Don't even get started on him. The man excused himself for the bathroom about ten minutes ago and is still yet to return.

Men. You decided to spend your one free Saturday with men.

You should have accepted Soyeon's offer to go drinking instead. This was the downside of being one of the only females in this so-called "friend group". None of your girlfriends were here! Sure, other women were around, but they were far too busy slinging themselves all over that perfectly chiseled bod–no.

Don't finish that thought.

Lots of guys go to the gym, __. Jungkook is nothing special. These women are obviously brainwashed; unlike them, you don't have time for his little boy games. It's time to get out of here.

"Okay, well, I'm heading out. Nice seeing everyone," you say, rising from your seat.

Jimin whips his head around. "What, already? We haven't gotten to the good part yet."

“There’s a good part?" You scoff. “Or, you mean Jungkook making girl number two squirt all over the bed? Heard it before, don't need to hear it again."

"It was girl number one," Jungkook butts in, eager to correct.

Whatever. You swing the apartment door open, phone and keys in hand. "See most of you on work Monday." You allow the door to slam behind you.

"She okay?" Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, wheels turn in his head.

"Don't worry about her. Work's probably got her beat." Namjoon cracks open a can of beer unfazed.

Jungkook nods, chewing on the bottom of his lip. "Does she–"

"The answer's no. __ doesn't need a good fuck, so put those thoughts away."

Shit, Jungkook swears internally.

Monday morning comes like hell on your doorstep. You're groggy when you wake up, barely getting to the shower. You considered skipping the ritual entirely but couldn't, not with how gross you felt. Project deadlines were right on your tail too, so you needed to either slap yourself awake or kiss your precious job promotion goodbye. You choose the later.

"Hey Minji, how are those files coming along?" You round the corner of the small office. It's 10 o'clock now, and everyone is typing, scanning, copying, and making phone calls until steam comes out of their ears.

"Almost finished." Your coworker, only a few years younger, responds. "Just have to tie up some loose ends, and then I'll hand them to you for review."

"Great. Thanks for–" You pause when you catch a slight grin spreading across Minji's face. Despite all the chaos today, Minji's definitely been the most cheerful. "You seem really happy today. Something good happened recently?"

Minji suppresses the grin and squeezes her palms in her lap. “Nothing in particular. Just glad to be a part of the team."

"Yeah, right!" Hoseok sends a knowing smirk, nearing the two of you. "Someone had a busy night last night, huh? It's okay. __ is cool. You can tell her anything." Once close enough, your coworker pulls you into a casual side hug.

You grimace. It feels weird while at the office.

"Do you mind?" You shrug him off. "It's work hours."

"Well, actually," Minji starts, cheeks rising. "It's nothing like that. I'm going on a date tonight. I'm just a little excited."

Hoseok's mouth forms an 'o', eyes widening. "Really? Who is it?"

"Uh, his name's Jeon–"

"Jungkook?” Jimin’s head pokes up from across the cubicle. Eavesdropping as usual.

"No…," Minji replies. "Who's Jungkook?"

"He's just a close friend of ours." Hoseok gestures between the three of you. “He’s Jeon Jungkook.”

"He's only you guy's friend," you say bitterly. Considering that player as a friend is pushing it for you. Really pushing it.

"C'mon, what's with you and Jungkook?" Jimin says, shooting you a borderline glare. "You've had bad blood with the guy since you met him.”

"Oh, don't start with me Park,” you fold your arms. "You know exactly why I feel the way I do."

You think he'll have a comeback, but he doesn't. Jimin simply sighs and returns to his work. Figures he'd be the one to jump to Jungkook's defense. The man practically idolizes him. That, and he's been best friends with him for the past eight years. Loyalty sure has its perks.

"So! If it's not Jungkook, who's the guy?" Hoseok asks, hoping to switch the topic around.

Minji jolts up in her seat. “Wonwoo," she says. “His name’s Wonwoo. We ran into each other at a friend's birthday party last night."

"Well, good luck with him tonight," you reply, returning to your office. "I'm sure it'll go well." Enough small talk. You have a whole seven hours plus of work left.

6:45 p.m.

The clock on your screen blinks at you. Everyone's gone home by now, and so should you. But you're still here, fingers frantically typing on the keyboard.

“__, go home already." Your finance officer, Min Yoongi, stands in the doorway, resting an arm against the frame. He's got his soft, leather briefcase in the other hand; yes, the one you got him for his birthday a couple months ago.

Yoongi was the only person in your department who often stayed as late as you. He looked like he was on his way out, though. Must have gotten what he wanted done. "I'll get there eventually," you say. "Just finishing some reports for our meeting tomorrow."

"What reports? They're all done."

"Well…my reports."

"You mean, the ones that we don't actually need?" He quirks a brow.

"They're extra just in case. There might be something off, and this might help." Yeah maybe you were making shit up to keep yourself busy, so sue you. What else were you going to preoccupy your time with? You already polished off the last pint of cookies and cream ice cream.

"You're cute." Pushing off the doorframe, Yoongi nears your desk. "You know boss doesn't look at them."

"You never kno–"

"Hey." The authority in your co-worker's voice makes you straighten your posture. "Let's cut the bullshit." In a moment of urgency, he leans his body between you and your computer.

"Excuse you?" You shove his shoulder with both hands, but he stands firm until your computer goes pitch black.

"Here's what we're gonna do." You're gently pulled up and out of your seat by the wrist. "I'm gonna get a drink, and you're coming with me."

The man gathers your coat and bag, slinging them over a shoulder. You feel your legs being lifted off the ground soon after. "I can walk, you know." You reflexively kick your feet in protest. It's been a while since he's picked you up like this.

Yoongi switches off the light and makes his way to the elevator at the end of hall. "Not right now, you can't." He pushes the button, calling it up.

"Ah look at you," you purr, locking your arms around his neck. "Someone's been watching k-dramas after hours. Trying to confess or something?"

He enters the elevator for both of you, amused by your playful remark. "I consider you my friend, __. But if I were trying to confess, I'd just come out with it. Subliminal messaging isn't really my thing.”

Understanding his notion, you close your mouth. What were you supposed to say to that?

You aimlessly watch as the woman pours freshly shaken alcohol into a short, round glass. She finishes the concoction by sticking an orange wedge along the rim. A cocktail, a classic but timeless favorite. Yoongi takes a sip of his whiskey and tilts his head towards you. "Whenever you're ready to spill your guts, let me know."

"Hmm? I don't have anything going on." You down a shot yourself. "Nothing to spill here."

He gives his glass a gentle swirl, liquid splashes against the sides.

"Why are you looking at me like that? Nothing's wrong," you say.

He sets his glass on the bartop, straight-faced.

"Honestly, I don't know what you're getting at. We just came for a drink."

"It's him, isn't it? Bunny boy with the six pack."

Your nose scrunches knowing exactly who he's referring to. With little thought you give a short 'no'.

Yoongi stares at you nonchalantly. "Nice try, but I'm not an idiot, __. I don't know the guy that well, but I know enough that he's been on your mind a lot. You've been real prickly towards him too. Something tells me he's the reason you've been burying yourself in work lately.”

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just committed to my work. You know me, Ms. married to her job and all." You feign a chuckle. "I assure you, Ju–he's the furthest thing from my mind."

“Mhm...right." He hums unconvinced. "Tell me ms. married to her job, why won't you say his name?"

"Because-" You cut shortly. "I'd rather not think of him right now. Can't we talk about something else or drink in peace?"

He reaches for another taste of his burning liquor. "Alright."

Minutes pass before either of you speaks. You and Yoongi do this often, and you cherish it quite a bit. Sitting in silence after a long day at work soothes both your minds. But the man was right. Your mind isn't settled at all. No. It's buzzing with constant deadlines, family expectations, social commitments–

"Okay it's him!" you blurt out, earning the attention of a few passing diners and even the bartender herself. Shoulders slouch as you grip the glass in front of you. Your eyes shift to your right, side-eyeing Yoongi, silently staring back at you.

"Jungkook...he’s just frustrating,” you finally say. “Fucking this girl, fucking that girl. Do you think I wanna know how many places he's stuck it in? No, I don't. But does that stop him?“

You down your second shot.

"He's been going on about the same lay for three years now. Three years, Yoongi. Honestly, how long's he going to keep it up? ‘They were begging to go again’, like who fucking cares?!” Blood boils through your veins.

A third shot.

"I mean, how good can he be? If you asked me, he's average! Average Jeon Jungkook with probably an even more average dick!”

“Damn, you’re pretty feisty angel.” A man slides on the stool to your left. “Calling me average and everything. Kinda hurts my feelings y’know?”

You nearly choke picking up the man’s voice and scent– fuckin' Jungkook.

You swivel to face him. “Drop the pet names Jeon. I'm not your angel, and I seriously doubt I’m wounding any so called ‘feelings’,” you spit. “Why don’t you take your ego somewhere else…” You nod at the group of women gawking in the corner. Jungkook follows your gaze before meeting your eyes again.

"Not interested," he shrugs his shoulders.

“Oh wow, really?” Maybe sarcasm wasn’t the best way to go but since when did Jungkook start passing up overly eager women…shocker.

"Don't be insulting, __. I probably sleep around a lot more in your head than in real life."

"Please, who are you fooling," you reach for your fourth shot. Jungkook steals it out of your hand, however, shaking his head.

"No, no, no." He sets the glass on his other side, furthest from your grasp. "Someone might be getting a little ahead of herself."

Teeth clench. Is he patronising you?

"Do you mind?" The words spit out of your mouth. "I'm trying to sit and have a nice drink with my friend."

"And what friend would that be?" Jungkook leans forward in his seat, sparing a glance past your figure.

"Yoongi."

"Oh, him…hate to break it to you but he left with some woman earlier.”

You turn around immediately. He's gotta be messing around but damn– Yoongi really left you. That little snake. He'll be hearing from you tomorrow.

Rising from the barstool, you snatch your belongings and make your way to the exit.

"Where are you going, __?” Heavy feet patter after you, following you to the parking lot. "Just 'cause Yoongi's gone doesn't mean you have to leave."

"I'm going home, Jungkook. 6am comes awfully quick." You want him to take the hint that you don't wanna stay but no such luck. You're instead blocked in your path, Jungkook facing you square on. He's a little close, but it doesn't matter. You'll just push around him.

"Alright, I'm sorry!" He wets his bottom lip. "If I've been too explicit about my private life, I'm sorry.” You watch as he rubs the side of his neck. “I tend-I tend to get carried away, especially around the guys. But after hearing what you said back there, I realize I should chill a little."

"Congratulations, you've figured it out.” You stare blankly at the man. “Can I leave now?" Brushing past him, you open your car door and jump inside. Dumb apology.

Fingers reach to shut the door, but Jungkook grips the rim, propping it open. "That can't be all." He leans down, shaking his head. "You clearly have some kind of vendetta against me and I'd like you to tell me why…please."

You blink up, patience running thin. You’re wondering what you should say to get him off your tail, but the longer you linger the more it’ll look like you’re staring. And heaven knows Jungkook gets enough eyes on him as is, especially with his biceps bulging from his shirt.

Not that you’re paying attention or anything but take tonight for instance with those women ogling him in the bar. Like, did he have to wear a white tank top tonight? Show off.

“You’re so arrogant,” you say, clenching your fists. "You act like you're the best thing this world's ever gotten."

It’s obvious that your words strike a cord inside Jungkook. His face, riddled with concern and protest. 'Him, arrogant? What on earth is this woman talking about?' his eyes say.

"That's not true. When have I ever acted like that?"

Baffled. That’s what you are. It takes every ounce of gull left in your body to step out and meet the man at eye level.

"You're kidding. What do you call the constant retelling of your college fling then? Because you sure love the pedestal it gives you! Must have heard it fifty fricken times by now."

"Okay, maybe a bit then, but like I said I just get carried away. Lost in the moment if you will. The guys wanna hear it anyway, and it's just one story, __. Hardly enough basis to say I love myself or some shit."

"But that's exactly it, Jeon. You think everyone will worship at your feet just because you have that one story, a bunny like smile, and the body of a–"

"Woah, wait a second. Did you say worship at my feet? I get you're pissed off at me but come on, that's a bit much."

"It's n---shut up Jungkook!" You snarl. How dare he interrupt you after demanding you to tell him what's wrong. "Don't you ever get tired of running your mouth all the time?!"

"Me running my mouth? You're the one yelling sweetheart." His icy tone sets you off.

"Listen asshole, just for once, can't you just listen! You're so average, fuck!"

"Alright babe, I hear you, damn!" His eyebrows knit together. "And stop saying that I'm average! I'm not, okay?"

"There you go again, acting all entitled with that over inflated ego. I said it before and I'll never stop saying it–you're an average fuck! I don't care how many people you get in your bed."

Jungkook paces backwards, fingers laced behind his head. He cranks his neck back and chuckles. "Oh sweetheart, that's where you're so, so wrong."

"No idea what you're talking about," you say, unmoved.

He steps forward, complete disregard for your personal space. His breath heats your skin. "You absolutely care who I'm with...who I'm talking to...and especially who I'm fucking." He places a hand on the roof of your car. "You care so much that it's eating at you, bit by bit."

You do all you can to ignore the way the back of your neck fires up and how your heart picks up as he speaks but–dammit, this isn't the time! He's messing with your sanity. Or maybe, it's the shots kicking in. Both likely. Either way, you’ll be damned if you let him catch on.

"Fuck off Jungkook!" You push against his muscular chest. The force should have sent him stumbling back, but it only makes him slightly jolt. Courtesy of his rock-solid form.

"Why? 'Cause I'm right?" He traces down your figure. “ 'Cause you're scared of what will happen once we get close?”

Palms sweating, you struggle to form a proper response.

Option A: No, you're not scared in which Jungkook will likely challenge you.

Option B: Yes you're scared in which you let Jungkook be right and your efforts will be in vain.

Or Option C, what you've been doing all along: Fuck off!

Lust clouds over Jungkook's eyes as you remain motionless.

"How 'bout you prove it to me." His voice cuts through your contemplation. "That I'm wrong, that you don't want this, and I'll do the same for you."

You know exactly what he's insinuating– a one night stand. You swore you'd never give in to his antics. Then again, you never thought things would escalate this far either.

But if you agree to sleep with him now, you'll look like a hypocrite. And what of the countless speeches you made about not wanting to be another one of his swooning, giddy women? Still… it's not like you want to sleep with him. And if you do sleep with him, and he's average after all, you'll finally have something to testify to.

That'll knock him down a few pegs.

"So…" You hear Jungkook drawl. "Is that smug expression you got on a yes?"

"Hurry up and unlock the door,” you snap, manners going awry. “I wanna get this done as soon as possible.”

"Relax will you.” Jungkook fiddles with his keys, nearly dropping them with every shuffle. “So bratty when you’re down to get some.” He ushers you forward once managing to crank the door open.

You ignore his snide remark, taking in the spacious room. “Don't tell me that's your bed,” you say. There, in the middle of the living room was a mattress. It was on the smaller side but not in bad shape. If that’s where Jungkook intends to give it to you though, you’ll gladly walk out.

“Seriously?” You're thrown a slightly pissed expression. “It’s for emergencies, okay? My room's down here." He breezes down the hall adjacent to the living room. You follow.

“Better?” A lamp switches on from the corner of the bedroom. The room’s a little bare but you can’t complain, at least it was clean.

"Yeah, its fine." You flicker your eyes at Jungkook, arms length away. Chest tightens, legs begin to shake.

This isn't a dream. You're fully conscious and you're about to jump in bed with Jeon Jungkook.

Inadvertently, you pause down at his lips–they look soft.

Oh fuck it...you can’t stomach anymore delays.

Feeling the adrenaline, you shake your coat off and toss it on the chair to the side. You march up to Jungkook next, grip the fabric of his shirt, and smash your lips against his.

It's unusual at first, sloppy even. You're moving your lips the best you can but it's a struggle getting into a rhythm. Likely because you've never kissed each other before, let alone made out.

The temptation to snort at how ridiculous the whole thing must look jabs at you. But it's when you feel Jungkook smiling through each kiss that it hits you like a ton of bricks–your lips have been the only ones moving.

"So that's how you kiss huh?" Breaking apart, he stares down at you, tongue in cheek. He's teasing you.

Rather than give an answer you smirk and twist the fabric of his shirt. You press your lips to his again but this time it's with more confidence and determination. A heavy grunt falls from his mouth and rough hands grip your hips as teeth clash against teeth.

"Fuck, slow down baby," Jungkook pants between kisses.

You ignore his plead and card through his hair with both hands, yanking on his soft, black strands. "I'm not your baby, Jungkook. Remember that."

Your back slams against the door instantly, knob rattling at the sudden pressure. With one hand, he anchors your wrists above your head while the tatted one wraps tightly around your waist. Saying this isn't turning you on would be a lie, a big fat lie.

"What do you want me to call you then?" Your thighs squeeze together when you feel his bulge brush against your center. His pecs graze atop your breasts too, causing a shiver down your spine. "Can't call you baby, can't call you angel."

You bite the inside of your cheek and gaze at Jungkook through your lashes. A devilish smirk spreads across his face at your chosen silence.

"Guess I'll have to figure it out along the way."

He inches forward, capturing your lips. His tongue licks the seam before pushing in the crevasse. Though you fight, you can't stop from moaning into his mouth.

You find your thoughts drifting to all the other places you'll feel his tongue tonight. Maybe on your neck, or your breasts, inside your thighs–fuck. You're about to soak your panties to bunny boy.

One by one, you feel the buttons of your silk blouse being pulled apart. The delicate material pools at to your feet in seconds, leaving you in your lacy white bra.

"Pretty," Jungkook plays with a strap before bringing his hands down to cup the swell of your breasts. "Not what I expected though...thought red was more your color." He flashes a cocky smirk.

"Very funny, Jung–"

You gasp when his thumbs start swirling tiny circles around your clothed nipples. "How hard are they?" He says.

"Take it off and find out."

"Fuck.” He squeezes your breasts. "You sure?"

Once giving a nod, you're pulled to the bed. Jungkook guides you on your back before settling himself around your waist in a straddled position. When he leans forward to reach behind your back, you feel his length poke you.

"Mm," you muffle a small moan.

He raises a brow. "What's gonna happen when I'm inside you huh?" The straps of your bra sweep off your shoulders. Cool air hits your breasts, nipples pebbling instantly.

"I can take it," you say.

Jungkook's eyes dilate at your bare breasted state. "Sure you can babe." The tips of his fingers graze along your sides. "Cause I'm just an average fuck yeah?"

His palms cup the underside of your boobs, squeezing lightly. He then lowers his lips to the ridge of your ear.

"Gonna make you come by your tits pretty girl." Your back arches as he digs his fingers into the soft flesh.

"Jungkook-"

"Fuck," he hisses. "Rolls off your tongue just right." He trails from your neck down to your naval, leaving open mouth kisses along the way.

Your core twists at the warm sensation. You wanna tell him not to leave marks but something inside you secretly hopes he does.

Jungkook traces back up your torso, giving your buds a few flicks with his thumbs before taking one between his lips. He sucks firmly, switching between breasts. Occasionally you let out a yelp when his teeth tug at them ever so slightly.

You desperately want to rub your thighs together due to the wetness pooling between them but the weight of Jungkook straddling you doesn't allow for much movement.

“Be a good girl and stay still," he says, cocky grin plastered on his face.

You're not a good girl, you pant back though your nearly frozen body would say otherwise.

A few more flicks of his tongue and you know he's made you come from your tits as promised.

Jungkook leans back on the his knees. "I really wanna fuck them now." He tugs on a nipple playfully but you slap his hand away.

"Don't even think about it," you say. "They're sore enough".

"You liked it though."

"Well no shit, I came didn't I? Can't believe it," you mumble under your breath. "Anyway, it's your turn now. Take your shirt off," you nearly demand."

"Even after coming, you're still a fiesty little kitten." He brings his arms around his waist. Your core tightens as you watch the white tank top lift up his muscular upper body and over his head.

"Satisfied?" He studies your expressions.

Instinctively, you trace down his sweaty build; starting with the collarbone. You work your way over to his shoulders after until his pecs draw your attention. And then his diaphragm, leading to the ‘v’ outlining his pelvis.

"Take them off too."

Jungkook gives you a pleased look. "Wanna see how average my cock is?"

You move to an upright position, face close to his. "More like wanna see what it can do." You snap the band of his sweats. "Hmm, what'd you think about that playboy?"

Jungkook's cock twitches. He needs to be inside you before he blows a load in his pants here and now. He gets up from the bed, hooks his thumbs in his sweats and pulls them down along with his briefs.

Alarms go off in your head as his half-harden cock is yanked out of it's confinement. It slaps against his abdomen, tip glowing with precum.

Swallowing, you fiddle with your own pants. It's huge and it's going inside you.

"What if I told you I wanna taste you first?"

You pause your movements and peer up at the man. "You mean...down there?"

You wanna slap yourself from how naive you sound but the thought of Jungkook's head between your legs was an affair you'd never predict to happen.

"Yeah pretty girl," Jungkook quips. "There."

"Uhm," you breath, stomach doing somersaults. "Okay."

He settles between your legs this time, panties kicked off in some odd corner of the room. He gives your inner thigh a kiss before running a finger up your slit.

A lusty moan leaves your lips.

He pushes in a moment later, making you gasp for air. Another finger pushes along side it and after a few pumps he's perfectly stimulating your g-spot.

"Jung-Jungkook fuck!" You grip the sheets from under you.

He brings his thumb over your clit, toying with the bundle of nerves. "Am I doing it right __?" He's teasing again.

You nod vigorously. "Don't stop...please. Don't you dare stop."

Jungkook hums in approval, low and breathy, but retracts his fingers from your soaking cunt. They're quickly replaced with his tongue however, licking a broad stripe up your folds. The action is repeated over and over until your once again digging your nails into his scalp.

"M' gonna come," you say with a shaky voice.

As if an invitation, he dips in your heat. A string of profanities spill out.

Shit shit shit, you chant as you release on his tongue.

Jungkook lifts his head up from between your legs and wipes his mouth off. "You're fucking sexy." He presses a deep kiss on your lips, long and messy. "And you taste sweet too."

"Fuck me," you nearly beg. "And call me a slut while your at it."

"You su–"

"You don't have to use a condom either. I'm on the pill."

"Real–"

"Yes Jungkook."

He shifts back from your body, chest inflating and deflating. "On your hands and knees then."

As soon as the words leave his mouth you flip over, your full backside in his view. Did you feel exposed? Hell yeah. But that's part of the fun.

You turn your head over a shoulder to see Jungkook inching behind you. From this angle you feel so small. You bite your lip, anticipation driving you wild.

"Don't forget what I asked for earlier playboy."

Hovering over your back, his breath tickling your skin. "And what makes you think I'll listen to you pretty girl?" His length brushes between your asscheeks.

You whine.

"Jungkook–"

All at once he aligns himself with your hole and thrusts himself in. The fullness of the stretch has your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Fuck, you're so big," you moan.

"Yeah? You like this," he grunts, starting off a steady pace. "I knew you would." He nips your ear. "Cute how dumb little sluts like you think they know what they want, but really, they don't have a clue."

Your breathe hitches, squeezing around his length. "What about---fuck---assholes like you who decide what others want before asking?"

The bed jolts forward. You cling to all you can to steady yourself.

"It's not really deciding for others if they already want it, is it?" He snaps his hips. "I'm merely helping them, like an asset."

"Shu---god fuck!"

"Deny it all you want but we both know how hard this little pussy's clenching around my big, fat cock. Been wanting this for a while hasn't it?" Beads of sweat drip from Jungkook's brow. His wavy, black locks dangle in front of his eyes.

Helplessly, you start rocking yourself on him, meeting his thrusts in perfect sync.

"Holy shit–" Jungkook groans. "You get me so fucking turned around. Can't even be in a room with me for five minutes before you're clawing for a way out but here you are, desperate to take my cock."

"What can I say," you barely gasp, beyond wound up. "Can't stand arrogant jerks like you."

He snorts. "But you'll sure fuck 'em won't you? Slut."

Walls tightening, knees shaking, it takes only one last hard thrust and you're spasming around him.

Jungkook coaxes you through your high with broken grunts. "Fuck, you feel so tight and warm around me. Gonna come pretty girl? Gonna come all over my cock aren't you?"

"Jung---Jungkook!"

"It's okay sweetheart, you can do it. Fucking cream it."

And you do.

With his cock coated with your cum, Jungkook fucks through his own high. "Hang in there __, I'm almost there," he says, thrusts sloppy.

Once he releases into you his body grows limp on yours. A small yelp tells him to slide out and off you.

As you lie next to each other, panting heavily, you're the first to break the silence.

"I think I've proven my point. You gonna shut up about your story now?"

"I don't know which point that would be but sure," Jungkook turns his head to the side with a lazy smirk. "I'll shut up about the story. I have a new one on my mind anyway."

God what have you done. Uncaged the beast, that's what.

A/N: thanks for stopping by, happy to hear your thoughts ☺💗

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #bts au #bangtanbathhouse #fic:proveittome #kookslastbutton

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hoseokhasmyheartxx · 11 months

Text

Package Deal | MYG & JHS

*Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader x Hoseok

*Word Count: 10k 😵‍💫

*Genre: EXPLICIT SMUT, MINORS DNI, let's be honest it's pwp, a bit of fluff, non-idol au, spring break au

*Warnings: *takes deep breath* here we go... mentions of past cheating, alcohol consumption, mentions of past violence, recreational weed use, the boys are a bad influence on mc in more ways than one, boys have to convince mc to participate, piv sex, oral (m., f. receiving), one (1) ass slap, breast/nipple play, it's a 3sum y'all, overstimulation (m., f. receiving), MxM undertones (nothing too explicit but.. there's a bit), cum swallowing (f), cum eating (MxM), use of pet names 'love' and 'baby', dom!Hoseok, switch!Yoongi, switch!Reader, protected and unprotected sex (be smart, ya perverts), begging (f, m), mentions of contraception, mc calls Yoongi 'good boy', 'good girl' is used too, mc squirts, aftercare, non-sexual shared showering... i think that's it

*Summary: Years have passed since you graduated high school in your small town. Spring break rolls around, and some familiar faces are back in town. You've always been the town's good girl. Will those familiar faces change that for you?

*A/N: oh boy. guys, this is just absolute filth and i am sorry (but also not). sope smut demons just took over and i dont even know where this shit came from. stay hydrated friends, this one's a doozy! 🤪

Part of btsafterdarknet's the boys are back in town event

Main Masterlist

“There’s a what next weekend?” you asked Soo-ah, reading the social media invite you’d both just received.

“TEN-YEAR REUNION SPRING BREAK PARTY” flashed on the screen in front of you. Below it, details and RSVP information were spelled out in italics. You groaned, knowing what was coming next.

“Oh! We have to go! Please?!” Soo-ah pleaded. You had done your best to block out the memories of the four years you’d spent in the hell called high school. It hadn’t been particularly torturous, but you were nothing short of ecstatic to leave that place, and the people, behind you when you first entered college. Soo-ah, on the other hand, still regularly saw friends from high school and reminisced on her time there. It didn’t surprise you that she’d want to attend this reunion.

“Seriously? It’s been ten years. I don’t want anything to do with those people!” you defended. Spending a Saturday night with people you barely remembered wasn’t exactly on your bingo card for the year, but apparently Soo-ah was going to be the one to handwrite it into the free space that was leftover.

“I don’t care. We’re going!” she responded, making the decision for you as she texted the RSVP number to confirm both of your attendance. You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to change her mind no matter what you tried.

“Fine. But you owe me,” you said, letting out an exasperated breath, rolling your eyes at your best friend. She was a pain in the ass, but you loved her. She’d stuck by your side for the last fifteen years, and had put up with her fair share of nonsense from you, so you could suffer through one night of nonsense for her.

Grocery shopping at night, alone, was one of your favorite things to do. The stores were always empty, peaceful. You meandered through the aisles, erasing items from the list on your phone as you tossed them into your cart. Stopping in front of the pasta section, you reached above your head to grab a box of your favorite, but it was just out of your reach. Bracing yourself on one of the shelves, you stood on your tiptoes, hoping those few extra inches would be enough for you to grab the box you wanted. Your fingertips only grazed the box, but just as you were about to give up on that particular brand, a lanky arm reached from just behind you and grabbed the box for you.

“Oh, thank— Hobi?” you asked incredulously as you took the box from his hand.

“The one and only, baby. I thought that was you. You haven’t changed a bit,” he answered, cocky smile matching his tone.

Jung Hoseok, better known as Hobi back in high school, was the town’s ex-resident bad boy, half (a very hot half) of a very well-known duo. He and his friends were always up to something, wreaking havoc everywhere they went. Constantly in detention, throwing wild parties, spending all of their free time getting high and definitely not doing any homework. His reputation as a player was well-known amongst everyone, too. From what you remembered, there probably wasn’t a single person in his crowd who he hadn’t slept with at one point or another. You’d steered clear of them, trying your hardest to maintain your girl next door image and straight-A record, hoping to gain admittance to the private university one city over. Your efforts had prevailed, and you were proud of the success you’d worked so hard to maintain over the last ten years.

“What are you doing back?” is all you could think to ask. It was eleven o’clock on a Thursday night, and you hadn’t seen Hobi, or any of his old friends, in years. Running into him here was nothing short of surprising.

“Didn’t you hear? The reunion is Saturday. Couldn’t miss that,” he shrugged.

“Ah. Yeah, should’ve figured. Soo-ah and I are going too.”

He chuckled, responding only with, “Well, I’ll see you ladies on Saturday then. How is Soo-ah, by the way?” He winked as he walked away, leaving you standing awkwardly at your cart, box of pasta still clutched in your hand.

As you wandered the aisles, finishing up your shopping, you couldn’t help but think, just our luck. You knew that Soo-ah had been involved with Hobi during your senior year. It had been just a casual thing. They were never exclusive, according to him. Unfortunately, Soo-ah had had her heart broken when she found that out. You wondered how she’d feel seeing him again. But then, you wondered…

Would he be there too?

You and Soo-ah walked to the entrance of the restaurant together. The reunion was being hosted at a large brewery in downtown. You’d only been there a few times before, but you knew it had a large open area for mingling, good food and drinks, but it was especially dark inside. Entering the restaurant, you were met with a sudden wave of chatter and laughter, loud music blaring. The place had basically been turned into a nightclub of sorts, making your stomach churn. You weren’t one to frequent places with loud music or crowds, but here you were, doing both for some stupid high school reunion.

“Let’s go grab a drink and find some of our old friends!” Soo-ah suggested as she pulled you by the arm toward the bar. Trying to calm your nerves, you settled on a mojito, knowing the alcohol in it would make you relax. Soo-ah ordered her usual drink that was probably ninety percent alcohol, making you turn your nose up at the smell wafting off her glass as she picked it up. You took a sip of your drink, eyes scanning the crowd for any familiar faces. You had to admit, you barely remembered anyone, but for Soo-ah, that wasn’t the case. She had already pointed out multiple people she wanted to catch up with.

Voices and faces all blurred together as Soo-ah dragged you from one group to another. You exchanged pleasantries, but frankly, you weren’t really interested in reliving the so-called glory days of high school with people you never even spoke to. It seemed like all everyone wanted to do was brag about their lives, which you were not interested in doing. Finishing your drink, you politely excused yourself, heading back to the bar for another round. Thankfully, there were a few open bar stools left, so you plopped down on one, waiting to get the bartender’s attention.

“This seat taken?” came a deep, low voice to your left. Turning your head to see the owner of the voice, your jaw dropped when you saw him.

Min Yoongi. The other half of the infamous duo you spent years trying to avoid. Except for the fact that, this half? Yeah, this half was the half you’d actively pined over all of high school. You knew he was bad news then, so all you’d done was admire him from afar. Not that he even knew who you were anyway.

“Uh.. um, no. Go ahead,” you responded, signaling to the bartender again, really needing another drink to get through whatever conversation was about to occur. Finally catching his eye, you breathed a sigh of relief as the bartender approached you.

“What can I get you?” the older man asked you with a gentle smile on his face. You rattled off your order, and he turned toward Yoongi. The smile previously on his face fell immediately. “Yoongi.”

“Mr. Cho. I’m good, I swear,” Yoongi defended, hands up as if in surrender. You tried to read the expression on his face, but failed. It was almost like… regret? Apology? You weren’t sure.

“Last time you were here, we closed with hundreds of dollars worth of damage because of you and your friends. A fight, if I remember correctly,” Mr. Cho continued, arms crossed over his chest.

Your eyes jumped between the two men, unsure if you should interrupt, stay quiet, leave? You decided, against your better judgment, to remain in your seat and stay quiet.

“That was years ago, Mr. Cho. I’m not like that anymore, promise,” Yoongi explained, going so far as to hold his pinky finger up in front of the older man, swearing on… something.

Mr. Cho rolled his eyes and continued, “What do you want?”

Yoongi ordered a glass of whiskey, neat. But what he said next took you by surprise. “Add hers to my tab, too.”

“Um— no, I’m fine. You don’t need to do that,” you interrupted, looking at him with a confused look on your face. All he did in response was wave his hand at you, as if to say, nonsense.

Mr. Cho turned away to prepare both of your drinks, leaving you and Yoongi alone at the bar.

“I’m ____,” you started awkwardly.

“I know who you are. How could I not? Hobi dated your friend for a bit, yeah?” he asked, taking a sip from the glass Mr. Cho placed in front of him.

Picking up your mojito, you gulped down more than you’d planned, but you weren’t a quitter. You swallowed, trying not to show the grimace playing at your lips.

“Not sure dated is the proper word, but yeah. Soo-ah was seeing him senior year. Until he conveniently forgot to mention to her that he was also seeing two other girls,” you snapped back.

Yoongi snickered, tipping his glass toward you. “Hey, from what I heard, they never had the ‘exclusive’ talk. So you can’t blame him,” he said with a half-shrug.

You couldn’t help rolling your eyes at him. Typical Yoongi, you thought. Defending Hobi like he’d done nothing wrong, even though he knew that wasn’t the case, was something he’d always done over the years. You weren’t sure why he even hung out with him, because they weren’t the same. Yoongi never really gave the impression that he was willingly going along with a lot of Hobi’s antics, but what did you know? You didn’t really know them.

“Hey. I’m not Hobi, alright? Take that shit out on him if you want. He’s over there,” he pointed, “but remember, it’s been ten years. And Soo-ah doesn’t seem to care.”

Turning around, you saw Soo-ah in a big group of people, Hobi included, laughing and drinking. She wasn’t really acknowledging his presence, but she wasn’t exactly ignoring him, either. Rolling your eyes, you realized that he was probably right.

“Sorry. Old grudges die hard, I guess.”

“It’s alright. How’s life been for you?” he asked.

The two of you fell into easy conversation then. Where and for what you’d gone to college, jobs, how you spent your free time. It was like talking to an old friend, but also, not really.

“So, yeah. My job is basically always stressful. This is the first time in, like, months that I’ve been out and haven’t gotten a call from my boss,” you finished. You moved to take another sip of your drink, but to your dismay, it was already empty. You frowned, looking over at Yoongi as he did the same thing. You erupted into a fit of giggles, and he followed suit, laughing heartily along with you.

“Damn,” you said, shaking your head, “didn’t realize I drank that that fast.”

“Want another?”

“No, I probably shouldn’t. I get hungover really easily and that’s the last thing I need,” you explained.

“Hmm. You ever smoked weed?” Yoongi questioned.

“Do I look like someone who’s ever smoked weed, Yoongi?” you laughed out. The thought alone was hysterical to you. The fact that he would think you had smoked before was even funnier. You had never done anything even remotely illegal; no underage drinking, no shoplifting, and surely no drug use. You were known as the goody two-shoes your entire life, and you knew that he knew that.

“Well, no,” Yoongi admitted with a laugh, “but you should give it a try. It’ll wipe that stress away so fast, you won’t even notice it anymore.”

You gave him an incredulous look, thinking that he definitely had to be joking. There was no way you were about to blemish your perfect reputation by smoking weed to relieve stress.

“I can show you,” Yoongi deadpanned, “if you want.”

You shook your head, laughing at him. “No thanks, I’m alright.”

Yoongi reached out and ran his fingers along the back of your hand. He looked at you, a mischievous smirk on his face.

“C’mon, live a little. Can’t you have some fun for once?”

“Min Yoongi. You don’t know me. Who says I don’t have fun?”

“Well, you’ve never smoked weed. That alone says you don’t have enough fun,” he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes. But the nagging voice in your head was beginning to eat away at you. Ten years ago, you would’ve done anything to get even the smallest bit of attention from Min Yoongi. And now, you were sitting here, having a one-on-one conversation with him for almost an hour, he was offering to spend even more time with you, and you were declining. Why?

It wasn’t in your nature to make impulsive decisions. You had meticulously thought-out plans for everything you did. But your intrusive thoughts were winning tonight, no matter how hard you fought them.

“Alright. Show me.”

Yoongi cocked his brow, seemingly surprised that you’d agreed. Before you had the chance to change your mind, however, he was standing, leaving a few bills on the bar to pay his tab, and grabbing your hand, leading you through the crowded restaurant and out the door.

The cool spring breeze outside was refreshing. You took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. Walking a few steps behind Yoongi, hand still in his, you stumbled a bit, the alcohol catching up to you more now that you weren’t sitting.

“You good?” came Yoongi’s voice from ahead of you.

“Yepp, all good. Lead the way,” you giggled. You were pleasantly buzzed, and you hoped the feeling remained until you were confident enough around him without it. He led you down the crowded street, never letting go of your hand, until you reached a high-rise building, hotel name illuminated in the night sky.

“We’re staying here this weekend. C’mon,” he gestured toward the building.

Five minutes later, the two of you exited the elevator on the eleventh floor, and Yoongi guided you toward his room.

The fact that he had said ‘we’ downstairs was lost on you until he opened the door, holding it open for you to follow after him. You entered the room, setting your purse down on the dresser, and you noticed a third person already in the room, standing at the cracked-open window, joint between his fingers.

Hobi.

“___? No shit,” Hobi blurted out with a laugh, coughing a bit on his inhale.

“She needs to relax,” Yoongi explained, sly smirk on his face. You shrugged, unsure what to say other than to agree with him.

Hobi shot you a confused glance, obviously not expecting you to be one to join them in their late-night smoke session. “With us?”

“Shut up,” you snapped out in response, the words coming out more tense than you’d planned.

“Damn. You do need to relax,” Hobi laughed out. Yoongi had already joined him at the window, taking the joint from his hand and taking a hit for himself. He held the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds before slowly blowing it out the window. After letting out all of his inhale, he turned to face you. You were still standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure where to go or what to do.

“C’mere, love,” Yoongi said, beckoning you over to them. You didn’t miss the pet name he’d used, but you chose to ignore it. Walking hesitantly over to the window, you joined the two men, resting your body weight on the window sill with your elbow, facing them.

Yoongi and Hobi exchanged knowing glances as Hobi took another drag, puffing the smoke out calmly. His eyes were already appearing glazed over, a serene air overtaking his normal exuberant self. He held the joint out to you, a sickly sweet smile on his face.

“Your turn, baby,” Hobi breathed out, watching as you took it from him. You held the joint between your fingers, unsure what to do next. You began to feel stupid, like you definitely shouldn’t be there, until Yoongi took it back, taking a quick hit before speaking.

“We’ll take care of you. Don’t worry,” he reassured you, holding the joint up and putting it between your lips, “Just inhale a bit, slowly. Hold it in for a second, then let it out.”

Even with following his instructions, you still coughed a bit (or maybe a lot), but neither of them said anything. You were expecting Hobi to make fun of you, to say something sarcastic about you being too innocent, but he didn’t. Instead, he just watched you, silently observing. His dark eyes, although glazed over, still intimidated you after all these years. For whatever reason, you could never figure out why, but he had always had a very intense aura to him.

Thirty minutes later, the three of you had settled into a very comfortable, very giggly high. Hobi and Yoongi were sprawled out on their beds, while you stretched out sideways over an armchair, looking at the ceiling. The relaxation you felt was like nothing you’d ever experienced. You felt like you were floating, fully embracing the euphoria. Your brain was lagging a bit, taking extra seconds to decipher whatever Hobi and Yoongi were discussing. You had to admit, you still didn’t know, and you had barely been listening, so you only caught the tail end of their conversation.

“No! That’s ridiculous,” Hobi yelled out, a hand over his belly as he curled into the fetal position, laughing. Yoongi was laughing too, and then it became infectious, impossible for you to avoid following suit.

A few minutes of uncontrollable laughter later, Hobi got up from his bed to use the bathroom. You and Yoongi fell into silence as he disappeared. It didn’t surprise you that Hobi was even more obnoxious while high than he was normally, but you were struggling to figure out how Yoongi was taking his own high. He was giggly, just like you and Hobi, but other than that, he seemed almost like his normal, quiet self, maybe even quieter.

“Hey,” Yoongi spoke suddenly.

Tilting your head upside down to look at him as best as you could from your position, you responded, “Hey, yourself.”

“C’mere,” he called, holding an outstretched hand to you.

Brow cocked, you lifted yourself from the armchair and stumbled over to the side of his bed, looking at him quizzically, arms holding you up as you rested your palms on the mattress.

“What’s up?” you questioned.

“I’m just gonna be honest with you. I get stupid affectionate when I’m high. Come lay with me,” Yoongi requested.

“Uh— why me? Can’t you cuddle with Hobi or something?” you asked him, laughing at your own suggestion.

Yoongi laughed, but then declined your offer, shaking his head.

“Been there, done that. He gets weird,” he explained, looking up at you from his spot on the bed, head resting on his outstretched arm. “Besides, you’re a lot cuter than him anyway,” he finished, putting on a smirk.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his admission, unsure if it was the weed talking or if it was how he really felt. But his eyes never left you, and he stretched his arm out more, making grabby hands at you.

“Please, love?” he asked again, puppy eyes on full display. You cocked an eyebrow, watching as his facial expression turned to full-blown begging before you.

You sighed, turning to sit on the bed next to him. “Fine,” you said with an exasperated breath.

Before you had a chance to think, Yoongi was wrapping his arms around you, pulling you down to lay next to him. He snuggled into your side, attaching himself to you like a koala would a tree, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. It was a little awkward at first, but before long, you had relaxed more, sinking into the mattress underneath you.

“You two comfortable?” a voice came from the other side of the room, laughter erupting from Hobi as he flicked the main lights off and flopped down on his bed again. You and Yoongi laughed along with him, and you couldn’t help but to turn into his embrace, enjoying his warmth and the feeling of his body against yours. You draped your arm over him, drawing patterns on his back over his shirt, hearing him sigh with what you could only describe as bliss.

The room slipped into mostly comfortable silence, aside from Hobi watching funny videos on his phone, laughing out loud at almost all of them. Yoongi had fallen into a deep state of contentment, his breathing almost even with yours, as you continued rubbing his back. Without even noticing it yourself, you slipped your hand under the back of his shirt, wanting more contact with him, and his breath caught.

“This okay?” you asked him, not wanting to push any boundaries of his. He let out a hum, resting his arm over your lower stomach, fingertips dancing at your hip.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this relaxed,” Yoongi sighed, “you’re so fucking comfortable.”

You laughed. “Me too. And you’re warm.”

As the minutes passed, you noticed his hand slowly moving upward until his fingers were grazing your collarbone, drifting onto your neck. His face was still buried in the other side of your neck, but you felt him lift his head slightly as he whispered in your ear.

“You’re really, really hot.”

You whipped your head to the side, scooting back a little so you could see him better.

“Huh?” you asked incredulously, trying to suppress your laughter again.

He pulled you closer, lips pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the crook of your neck. You froze, your skin igniting under his touch. Your breathing hitched in your throat, your head spinning.

“I could make you feel so good,” he whispered, peppering kisses up your neck, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick at your skin.

“Yoongi, what the fuck?” you whispered back, laughter coming out this time. You weren’t sure if it was from the weed or your nerves, but you couldn’t stop giggling.

He, on the other hand, was not laughing.

“I’m serious,” he cocked his head at you, a wicked smile playing on his lips, “I know you feel it, too.”

You couldn’t deny that he was right. You weren’t usually a very touchy person, but from the minute he’d cuddled up against you, your brain had been short circuiting, the nerves under your skin like a live wire against him. You took a shaky breath, unsure how to respond. But then, a thought crossed your mind.

“What about Hobi?” you questioned, voice still a whisper, not wanting to attract the other man’s attention.

Yoongi snickered, hand moving to cup your cheek, as he closed in on you. Landing a soft kiss on your lips, he replied, “What about him?”

Suddenly, he was kissing you, the hand on your cheek moving to your neck, pulling you closer. His mouth engulfed yours, consuming you with desire. Your hand squeezed his waist from under his shirt, using the grip to pull your body against his. He ran his tongue along your lower lip, eliciting a quiet moan from you. He pulled back, breathing heavily, your faces still almost touching.

“We always wondered what it would be like to ruin you,” came a voice from behind you. You gasped. At some point in the time that you’d been distracted with Yoongi, Hobi had seen what was going on between the two of you, gotten out of bed, and walked to your side of Yoongi’s bed, all without you noticing.

You bolted upright, looking like a deer in headlights as you realized that you’d been caught. Nothing had really even happened, but your heart was about to beat out of your chest. Your nerves were on fire, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Yoongi, however, was still laying down, eyes darting calmly between you and Hobi.

“Woah, woah. What do you mean, we?” you said, voice no longer a whisper, but a low shriek.

Hobi chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he answered, “I said what I said. We’re kind of a package deal, baby.”

“What do you think, love?” came Yoongi’s deep voice from your other side.

You sat there, looking between the two men, brain still lagging from your high. Your relaxed state had quickly devolved into shock. You opened and closed your mouth, unable to find the words to respond.

“Let us make you feel good,” Hobi proposed, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder, fingers brushing along your skin gently.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want. But, from experience, fucking while high is so good,” Yoongi stated matter-of-factly.

You took a deep breath, your brain finally catching up with your mouth so you could speak.

“Uh- I’ve never.. um..” you started, trying to put the words together.

Yoongi sat up next to you, resting a hand on your thigh and squeezing it reassuringly. “We know. We can take care of you, love.”

You shuddered, breathing becoming erratic as you contemplated their proposition. Before tonight, you would have never even considered doing something like this. But your high, combined with how turned on you were from Yoongi’s efforts earlier, was clouding your judgment.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll drop it and forget this ever happened. Go back to relaxing, get some food maybe. But if you’re into this…” Hobi continued, moving his hand to play with your neck and jawline, sending chills down your spine.

“Say yes. We promise you won’t regret it,” Yoongi finished, running his hand along your thigh as he leaned in to kiss you again.

You sighed as you returned his kiss, pulling back after a few seconds.

“Okay,” you finally decided, heart threatening to beat out of your chest. You watched as the two men looked at each other, exchanging understanding glances.

Then, without warning, Yoongi pulled you into an intense kiss. You melted into it, pliant under his lips, leaning into him as he gripped the back of your neck tightly. Your tongues danced, Yoongi eliciting a quiet moan from you as he sucked your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping at it gently. You held onto the side of his shirt tightly, knuckles turning white as you felt yourself get lost in him. Suddenly, you felt a second set of hands on you, running up and down your sides from behind you.

“Let us see,” Hobi whispered in your ear, tugging lightly at the hem of your shirt. You nodded against Yoongi’s mouth, giving him permission, willing yourself not to get too self-conscious. These were two of the most attractive men you’d ever laid eyes on, and they wanted you. It was hard to accept that fact in your mind, but what was happening in reality proved it to you. Hobi pulled the shirt off you in one swift motion, running his hands down your back, tracing the band of your bra as he did. His soft fingers danced along your spine, unhooking the band expertly. He pushed the shoulder straps down your front, letting Yoongi take over by pulling them the rest of the way off your arms and tossing the bra to the floor.

Hobi’s tight grip on your shoulders tore you out of your trance, still dizzy from being devoured by Yoongi’s mouth. He twisted you in his direction, pulling you by the neck with his other hand, engulfing you in a kiss with intensity that overshadowed Yoongi’s by a long shot. They were both great kissers, but there was something about Hobi’s that completely destroyed you. All thoughts left in your mind were drained as you entangled your hand in his hair, shifting up onto your knees to get a better angle. Hobi lifted you by the waist, settling you over his lap, pulling you closer to him, hands resting on your ass. The mattress shifted, and you felt Yoongi’s hands cup your breasts, gently kneading them from behind you.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed out, rolling your nipples between his fingers, drawing little whines from you as Hobi worked to unbutton the jeans you were wearing. You grabbed his hands, stopping him from going any further.

“Nuh uh, this isn’t fair,” you giggled, taking the bottom of his shirt in your hands and swiftly pulling it over his head. You couldn’t help but to ogle him. His warm honey skin tone was mesmerizing as you dragged your eyes down his torso, taking in his prominent collarbones, toned chest and abs, to the subtle trail of hair leading down beneath the waistband of his jeans. Your breath hitched as you traced your fingers along his clavicles, watching as he dropped his head back against the headboard. That position only made him more enticing, showcasing his neck, Adam’s apple jutting out. Yoongi’s lips touched the space where your neck met your shoulder, sucking gently as he continued massaging your breasts from behind.

“She’s so fucking beautiful, isn’t she?” Hobi asked out loud, lifting his head, eyes shooting behind you to Yoongi.

“Mmhmm, she is,” Yoongi replied, continuing his ministrations on your neck and shoulders. You sat up straighter, arching your back, resting your head on his chest.

“Yours too, now,” Hobi said with a nod of his head. Confused, you lifted your head to look at him, and it clicked. They’ve done this before. And it was obvious there was a certain… dynamic, between the two of them. You tilted your head to glance back at Yoongi, watching as his eyes answered for him. It was almost as if he was cowering, afraid to say no. You felt his hands drop from your chest as he nudged you, pushing you forward a bit.

Yoongi swiftly pulled his shirt off from behind you, and your eyes immediately followed the loss of fabric. His pale skin stood out in the dark room, and you could see the slight definition of his chest and stomach. Not as toned as Hobi, but still attractive to you, although in a different way.

“Can I undo these, baby?” Hobi questioned, pulling at the button of your jeans again. You nodded, biting your lower lip as you once again willed your nerves away. His fingers moved deftly, popping the button open in no time at all. The zipper came next, then he pulled you up by your belt loops, taking you off of his lap and gesturing for you to sit on the bed next to him.

Yoongi made his way over to you, sitting on your other side. His hand came up to push your curled hair behind your ear as he whispered, “You trust me, right?” You gulped, slowly nodding again. Words were failing you, your anxiety bubbling up in your stomach. “You trust us?”

Your eyes darted between the two men. With Yoongi, things were easy; he felt safe. But Hobi, you weren’t sure about. He didn’t exactly feel unsafe, but he was harder to read, harder to open up to.

“Hey, I know he’s a little intense sometimes. But he’s chill. It’ll be okay,” Yoongi reassured you, hand stroking your cheek lightly. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Just… take it slow, okay?” you requested.

“We’ll take it as slow as you need, baby. Just relax,” Hobi chimed in, shooting you a small smirk. With that, he hopped out of the bed, his erection prominently on display despite his tight jeans. As he walked over toward the window, Yoongi pulled you into him, his soft lips connecting with yours again. You sighed, letting him take the lead on the kiss, opening your mouth for him to explore. It was easy to get lost in him, easy to almost forget about the third person in the room.

“Here. Take a few more hits. It’ll help you relax again,” Hobi said from the window, blowing smoke out with a deep exhale. He joined the two of you at the side of the bed, handing you the joint again. You inhaled deep, this time more prepared for the burn of smoke to your throat. You exhaled slowly, feeling your high reignite almost immediately. You handed the joint back to Hobi, and he pressed it to Yoongi’s lips, allowing him a few short inhales before taking it back and returning to the window.

“Better?” Yoongi asked, his eyes searching yours. You breathed deeply, nodding, a small smile spreading across your face. Hobi joined you on the bed again, flicking the bedside light on as he did, his lanky arms falling around your shoulders as he pulled you to rest in between his legs, your back against his chest.

“This okay?” he breathed into your ear, his hands wandering slowly down to your breasts as you nodded. “Use your words, we need to hear you.”

“Y-yeah, it’s okay,” you responded, and you let out a quiet whine as his thumb and forefinger closed around your nipple, pinching gently, sending shocks through you. Hobi’s skin against your back was warm, soft. He nudged your cheek with his nose, tipping your face to the side as he began kissing and sucking on your neck. Every kiss made you hotter, made your breathing more ragged.

“You know,” Hobi started, his tongue tracing a line down your neck, “Yoongi is really good with his tongue too.”

You shivered, glancing over at Yoongi, who was still beside you, palming his hard cock over his jeans now, eyes on you.

“Show her how good you can be,” Hobi directed at Yoongi, raising his eyebrows as if daring him to object. Yoongi raised himself up onto his knees, leaning over to kiss the other side of your neck, trailing soft lips down to your collarbone and back up to your ear.

“Can I?” Yoongi asked you gently. You nodded, whispering a hushed yes in response. With that, Yoongi positioned himself in front of you, reaching for your unbuttoned jeans. “Say something if you want me to stop,” he said as he hooked his fingers into your waistband and tugged. Awkwardly, you lifted yourself to help him, and then you were pantsless; black, lace panties on display for the two men to admire.

Yoongi placed his flattened palms on the tops of your thighs, running them upward until he reached the hem of your panties. Fingers playing with the lace adorning your hips, his breath caught as his thumbs ran gently over your clothed mound. You squirmed, pushing your back harder against Hobi’s chest, hearing him chuckle in your ear.

“So pretty..” Yoongi murmured, eyes never leaving yours, questioning you. You nodded in response, knowing he was asking permission to take off the only garment you had left. He moved quickly, removing the panties effortlessly.

It was weird, being so exposed, naked in front of them, when all they were missing were shirts. Your anxiety revved up again, and you took a few breaths, not wanting to show your fear. “Um.. can you— can you take your pants off? Please? I’m a little self-conscious and I’ll feel better if we’re more even,” you said with a chuckle, feeling stupid to even be asking. Yoongi shot you an understanding smile, nodding.

“Sure, love. Anything you want. Hobi?”

Hobi tapped your bicep lightly, moving you out of his way. The two men stood, unbuckling belts and shimmying out of tight jeans in tandem. You couldn’t help but stare. In the light, they were even more gorgeous. Boxer briefs hugging their thighs tightly, erections on display for you to ogle. Your mouth dropped open, breath catching as your mind went haywire. This is it, you thought, this is really happening.

You weren’t the only one staring. It was subtle, but Hobi was still very obviously looking over at Yoongi’s hardened cock, tongue darting out over his bottom lip in desire. You had questions, but it wasn’t your place to ask them, so you let them go, opening yourself up to whatever was going to happen.

“You guys are so… ugh,” you scoffed, unable to contain your giggles. The two men came to join you on the bed again, taking their old positions; Hobi behind you, caressing your breasts and stomach, Yoongi between your legs, eyeing your bare pussy.

“Go on, then,” Hobi instructed, “make her feel good like we promised.” With his statement, he took one of your thighs in his hand and pulled it to the side, spreading you for Yoongi.

“Ah— fuck!” you cried out, not expecting Yoongi’s sudden onslaught to your pussy. He was quick. In the few seconds since you’d closed your eyes, tilting your neck to give Hobi access to it, he’d dropped down onto his stomach and buried his tongue in your folds. Gripping your other thigh, he was relentless. He worked his tongue from your clit to your entrance with wet, languid movements. Your hips bucked, your hand finding purchase in his long, dark hair. Hobi continued licking and sucking on your neck, fingers rolling and pinching at your nipples. The sensory overload had your head lolling back, eyelids drooping as you let out short little moans.

“No, baby. Eyes open, watch him,” Hobi murmured in your ear, voice dripping with mirth. You fought to keep your eyes open, your vision blurring as Yoongi sucked gently on your clit, watching you. You watched as he took his free hand, sucked seductively on the index and middle fingers, then brought them to your entrance, slowly inserting them into your cunt. You cried out again, your pleasure increasing tenfold with the added sensation. He twisted his fingers and hooked them just right, finding the spongy spot inside you in no time, slowly, rhythmically dragging them along your walls.

“Can you cum for us, love?” Yoongi asked you with a smirk, flattening his tongue and licking wide stripes up and down your cunt. Your body reacted, shaking as you got closer and closer to the edge.

“Yoongi— yesyesyes,” the words tumbled out as you came, your hips bucking as he gripped your thigh tightly, holding you in place to work you through your orgasm. His tongue never stopped, lapping at your juices as you gushed around his fingers again and again. You tried to escape his ministrations, but Hobi kept you still, shushing in your ear, chuckling at you.

“I was right, wasn’t I? He’s so good…” Hobi whispered to you, dragging his hands along your torso to rest on your still-moving hips. “I think she’s had enough for now,” he directed at Yoongi, who reluctantly pulled away, wiping his glistening lips and chin with the back of his hand.

You breathed deeply, gasping for air, feeling like your soul had left your body. You didn’t know what the fuck had just happened, but you didn’t have time to think about it because Hobi was pushing you up and off of his chest, crawling around you and over to Yoongi. You collapsed onto the bed as Hobi took hold of Yoongi’s neck and kissed him, then used his tongue to lap the remaining slick off Yoongi’s chin. “Can’t wait to taste you myself later,” he shot at you with a smirk, dark eyes glinting in the dim lighting.

You giggled, unsure how to reply. You knew what you wanted to do next though, so you sat up, ignoring your shaking thighs to get onto your knees. Sitting on your heels, you hesitantly reached out, tracing down the abdomen of both men with your fingertips, playfully snapping the waistbands of their boxer briefs. “Take these off,” you ordered, trying to sound confident.

“Oh, she’s bossy,” Yoongi laughed out, biting his lower lip with a smirk. Without another word, the two men moved to remove their boxer briefs, leaving you on the bed, mouth agape as you stared. You couldn’t decide where to look. They were mesmerizing, naked in front of you. Your eyes moved up and down their bodies, one at a time, taking them in. You gestured for them to come back to the bed, and they did with no hesitation. Before you could chicken out, you went straight to Hobi, pulling him into a kiss. He reacted, kissing you back, hands holding the sides of your neck. As the two of you kissed, tongues chasing each other for control, you reached out to your side. Breaking the kiss for a quick second, you glanced down, reaching for Yoongi. Finding his hip, you scratched your nails across his lower abdomen, then down his pelvis. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him slowly, teasingly. He hissed, hips bucking at the feeling.

Going back to kissing Hobi, still stroking Yoongi, your usual filter was gone. You broke the kiss once again, leaning in, kissing and nipping at his neck and throat. As you got to the space right below his ear, you whispered, “Fuck me, Hobi. Please.” His grip tightened on your neck just slightly, and you felt Yoongi’s cock react to your words as he whined in response. You looked over at him, chuckling a bit as you said, “Don’t worry, you’ll get me too,” licking your lower lip seductively.

With that, Hobi pushed you back onto your heels, grabbing your waist to flip you over onto your stomach. Before you could even react, he pulled your waist up to position you on all fours, his hand running across your lower back gently. “This okay?” he asked you, voice less cocky than normal. You could feel his fingers running along your ass, spreading you open for the both of them to see.

“Ye–,” you choked out, stopping mid-word as Hobi ran his fingers along your folds, collecting your juices from your entrance before inserting them. You yelped, oversensitive from your previous orgasm, but it didn’t take long before your pleasure was building again. Hobi was skilled, that was for sure. The way he crooked his fingers just right, hitting all your spots, was almost enough to throw you over the precipice a second time. That is, until he stopped. “Hobi,” you whined, breathing heavily with your face in the pillow under you.

“Don’t worry baby, we said we’d take care of you,” Hobi reassured. You heard a ripping sound, presumably from a condom wrapper, and then felt his hands gripping your waist. Your body jerked as you felt the head of his cock rubbing your clit. “Shh, relax for me,” he said as he inserted the tip of his cock in your cunt. The stretch was more than you’d expected, but Hobi took his time with you, pushing inch by inch into your pussy, until he finally bottomed out against your ass, hands still gripping your waist tightly.

Yoongi had climbed around onto the head of the bed, sitting close to where your face was still buried in the pillows. You looked up at him from the corner of your eye, watching his large hand begin pumping his cock as he watched you. Using his other hand, he pushed your hair off your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?”

You smiled at him, reaching up to touch his hand. He squeezed yours, but the intimate moment was interrupted by Hobi thrusting into you for real for the first time. You cried out, grasping the sheets as you were lurched forward. Looking up at Yoongi again, you were met with his signature smirk and a chuckle, followed by, “Sorry, love.”

His teasing tone left you wanting to do some teasing of your own. You picked yourself up as best as you could through Hobi’s thrusts, resting on your elbows. “Need some help with that?” you asked Yoongi, watching him jerk himself off, hoping your sultry tone had come through the way you’d wanted. He eyed you, biting his lip again. There’s something about that damn lip bite… you thought.

Yoongi lifted himself off the bed, kneeling now. He took your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, using his thumb to pull your bottom lip down. You stared up at him, batting your eyelids, as you kitten-licked the pad of his thumb, making him hiss. You leaned forward, placing gentle kisses on his abdomen, trailing them down his pelvis until you reached his cock. Looking up at him, you slowly ran your tongue along his length, from base to tip, admiring the prominent vein running down it. Yoongi groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure. Holding yourself up with one hand, you gripped the base of his cock with the other, steadying yourself, still on Hobi’s cock as he continued drilling into you.

With Yoongi’s cock in your hand, it was easy to tell that he was one of the biggest you’d had. You knew you had relatively small hands, but seeing your fingers barely close around him excited you. Continuing your teasing, you dragged your tongue up and down, swirling it around the tip before taking it in your mouth. Your lips spread tight, you slowly bobbed your head, taking more of him in each time. Yoongi’s groaning egged you on, making you focus on giving him pleasure to the point where you almost didn’t notice Hobi still behind you. That is, until he lifted one knee and thrusted into you from a different angle, eliciting a loud moan from you as Yoongi’s cock was shoved to the back of your throat. Trying your best not to gag, you relaxed your throat muscles, swallowing around him. His hips bucked, his hands holding your hair back in a makeshift ponytail as he began fucking into your throat. You had basically no control at this point, being jostled back and forth by both men.

“Tap my thigh if it’s too– fuuuck– too much,” Yoongi gasped, barely able to get the words out as you hollowed your cheeks on his next thrust into your mouth. With that, you tapped his thigh a few times, making him stop immediately and pull out of your mouth. His breathing was ragged, cheeks flushed, sweat collecting on his forehead.

“Can I ride you?” you asked Yoongi innocently.

“Fuck– yes, please,” he responded, and Hobi stopped too, pulling out before looking down at you.

“Baby, I’m not gonna last much longer,” Hobi breathed out, giving you a smirk as he smacked the side of your ass. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ good.”

You watched as the two men adjusted positions, Yoongi lying on his back and Hobi kneeling on the bed next to him. Yoongi ripped open a condom wrapper, sheathing himself quickly before grabbing you by the waist and situating you over his pelvis. Grabbing his cock, you rubbed him through your folds, moaning at the sensation. You lined him up with your entrance, slowly sinking down on him. Your moans tumbled out as you began riding him.

“Your tits look so good bouncing like that,” Hobi complimented you, and you shot an innocent smile his way as you upped your pace, leaning back to show yourself off a little more. You used one hand to balance yourself on Yoongi’s thigh, the other to begin jerking Hobi off. He’d removed the condom once he pulled out of you, so he was still slick from the lube on the inside of it, making your hand move smoothly up and down his shaft. He was about the same length as Yoongi, but had more girth, which explained the stretch when he was fucking you.

“Let me suck your dick, please, Hobi?” you pleaded as Yoongi lifted you up and pounded you down onto his dick again and again. Hobi smirked at you as he lifted himself up onto his knees more, and you bent down to reach him easier.

“Bossy and a filthy mouth? Where’d this come from?” Hobi taunted, grabbing your chin to force you to look at him.

“You bring it out,” you answered with a smirk, taking one last look up at him before you sank your mouth down onto his cock, breathing through your nose, taking him all in. Hobi immediately groaned, moving his hand from your chin to your hair, pushing it back away from your face to get a better look at you.

Riding Yoongi and sucking Hobi’s dick at the same time proved to be a challenge. They were both so needy; Yoongi whining underneath you as you brought him closer to release, Hobi trying his hardest not to fuck your throat too hard. I’m not a quitter, you thought for the second time that night, hyping yourself up. It was much easier for you to focus solely on Yoongi, and let Hobi use your mouth the way he saw fit.

Yoongi pulled your chest down to meet his, pulling you away from Hobi to engulf you in a passionate, sloppy kiss as you continued grinding on him, rocking your hips back and forth on his pelvis for stimulation on your clit. You moaned into his mouth, reaching over to pump Hobi’s cock as you kissed Yoongi. Pulling away, Yoongi kissed up the side of your neck to your ear, gripping the back of your neck as he did so.

“Love… are you on the pill?” he whispered, earning a quizzical look from you. You nodded, unsure where he was going with his question. His grip on your neck tightened as he whined again, then finished with, “I’m clean… Can I cum inside you? Please…” His breathing was ragged, his thrusting up into you becoming erratic.

“Please,” you whimpered, nodding again as you pulled yourself off of him, giving him room to remove the condom. Hobi looked down at you again, moving to go back to fucking your throat. You brought your face all the way to his pelvis, swallowing around his cock as you bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks on each movement.

“Fuck, baby, lemme cum in your mouth,” Hobi groaned, pushing your head farther down on his dick. You flattened your tongue on the underside of his shaft, swirling it around the tip each time he pulled out. You felt his cock begin to pulse, and you hollowed your cheeks more, sucking harder as he shot his cum into your mouth. You swallowed, warm liquid coating your throat. Hobi’s moans rang in your ears as you continued running your tongue along his dick. He shook, holding your hair as you milked him into overstimulation. You gripped his hips, not letting him pull away as you playfully sucked on just the tip of his cock, enjoying hearing his whimpers until you finally stopped.

“Baby.. f-fuck, that was so good,” Hobi stuttered, collapsing back onto his heels before falling back onto the bed. His breathing was shaky as he looked at you, his eyes roaming over your naked body with admiration. You smirked, patting his thigh playfully as you looked back down at Yoongi.

His eyes had darkened, his pupils blown with lust. You reached for his cock, rubbing his now-bare tip through your folds, listening to him whimper. You chuckled, then lined him up with your entrance, lowering yourself down onto him. He groaned, hands going to grip your waist. Instead, you smacked them away, a new idea coming to mind. You took both of his hands in yours and pinned them at each side of his head as you began riding him again. You heard his breath catch in his throat, and you knew… mission accomplished.

“Awh, you like being restricted, hmm?” you asked, giggling, watching his face for his reaction. He stared up at you, puppy eyes watching your every move.

“Love.. don’t do this to me,” he huffed out, chuckling a bit. Your eyes met his, a glint of seduction playing in yours.

“Do what?” you teased, clenching your pussy a few times around his cock. “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?”

Yoongi groaned, gripping your hands tightly in his. You continued bouncing on him, rolling your hips the way you’d figured out he liked. It wasn’t long before he was panting, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure. “Make- let me cum, love. Please,” he breathed out, choosing his words carefully, begging you.

Yoongi’s body shuddered as he let out a loud moan. You finally coaxed his orgasm out of him, the sounds he made almost making you cum along with him. You leaned down to kiss him, still holding his hands down at the side of his head, licking and sucking on his bottom lip as you rolled your hips a few more times. His moans turned to whines and whimpers, including a few curse words. “St- Stop, please, baby. Too sensitive,” he gasped out. You stopped moving, kissing him a few more times before lifting yourself off of him and collapsing on the bed next to him, breathing heavily yourself now. Whether that was from the overexertion, or the fact that you were so close to a second orgasm, you weren’t sure, but you couldn’t help but giggle a little, throwing one hand over your face, covering yourself.

You felt hands on your raised knees, the strong grip letting you know it was Hobi as he pushed your knees apart gently. You uncovered your face, watching as he stared down at your spread pussy, Yoongi’s cum dripping out of you.

“You think you can give us one more?” Hobi asked, smirk playing at his lips as Yoongi ran his hand across your stomach to grab your breast, squeezing and playing with the nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you. You whined and nodded your head, oversensitive but still wanting more.

Hobi leaned down, using his fingers to smear Yoongi’s leaking cum around the lips of your pussy. With that, he licked a broad stripe from your hole up to your clit, kissing your bud gently before looking up at you. “You taste so good, fuck,” he groaned, continuing his attack on you as you bucked your hips.

He flicked his tongue rapidly, the sound of his face in contact with your wetness turning you on even more. “Ah— Hobi,” you whimpered, “fuuuck, you’re so good with your tongue!”

He chuckled as he began lewdly sucking on your clit, using two fingers to fuck into you slowly at first, then picking up the pace as your body reacted. Your whines and moans tumbled out, but in the middle of a particularly loud cry of ohfuckfuckfuck, you were cut off by Yoongi’s mouth overtaking yours.

Yoongi leaned over you, kissing you deeply, massaging your breast with one hand, the other hand tangling in your hair. It was hard to concentrate, squirming under him as Hobi brought you closer and closer to your high. You found yourself bringing one hand down to entangle in Hobi’s hair, using the other to hold onto Yoongi’s wrist as you kissed him. Your grip on his wrist tightened as your senses were attacked from all directions.

“That’s it love, such a good girl for us,” Yoongi rasped, breaking the kiss to watch your face as you cried out fuckfuckfuck once again. Your body shook uncontrollably, Hobi’s fingers hooking your g-spot as you came. Yoongi kissed you once more, swallowing your moans as you drenched the sheets below you in your release.

“Shit, you’re a squirter too? Jesus, you’re perfect,” Hobi growled, still fucking into you with his fingers, lapping at the juices coming from your pussy, helping you ride your high all the way through. You struggled to close your thighs, trying to escape his tongue, but both of the men gripped one each to keep them spread. Your oversensitivity overtook you, choked sobs escaping your lips as all you could do was let them have their way with you.

“Fuu— please, Hobi, please!” you cried out, begging him to stop before you quite literally almost passed out from the sensations. Your vision blurred in and out, seeing stars as you mentally blacked out momentarily.

Hobi continued his teasing escapades on your cunt, licking gently as your body trembled underneath him. You pulled at his hair, trying to disconnect his mouth from you, to no avail.

Yoongi reached down, tapping Hobi’s shoulder and giving him a pleading look. “C’mon, I think she’s done,” he argued tenderly, tilting his head questioningly. Hobi finally pulled away, wiping his mouth with his hand as he raised himself back up onto his knees.

You laid there, curling yourself into the fetal position as you tried to get your breathing back in check. You shivered, aftershocks from your orgasm hitting you still. You felt the mattress behind you dip down as a warm body came into your space, pale arms enclosing you in a back hug. Yoongi nuzzled his lips into your hair, pressing sweet kisses to the back of your head, rubbing his hands along your arms to warm you.

“You okay, love?” Yoongi whispered into your hair, trying his best to comfort you. You nodded, clutching his arm in your hand to reassure him.

Hobi joined your cuddle on the other side, turning to face you, cupping your cheek in his palm as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I didn’t hurt you, did I, baby?” he questioned.

You shook your head, taking a breath before answering him. “No, I’m good. That was just… really intense.”

You felt both men shake as they chuckled, both doing their best to give you the aftercare you needed. “What do you need?” Yoongi asked.

“Do you wanna stay?” Hobi asked, swiping his thumb across your cheek. You reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding Yoongi’s arm, resting it over Hobi’s side.

You didn’t know what you needed, but the desire to have physical contact with both men was overwhelming. Your shivers still hadn’t stopped, prompting Yoongi to pull you closer into him. Hobi scooted closer too, enveloping you in tangled legs and warm chests from both sides.

“Do you want me to stay?” you wondered out loud. The arms of both men tightened around you, giving you the answer to your question.

“Please stay,” Yoongi requested from behind you, Hobi nodding his head in agreement. You sighed, a feeling of complete contentment taking hold of you.

“Okay, I’ll stay,” you agreed, “but I want to shower.”

The three of you untangled yourselves to head to the bathroom. Showering together proved to be a difficult feat, the hotel shower not being built for three. Somehow, you made it work though. You took turns washing, Hobi and Yoongi both wanting to be the one to help you wash your hair. You giggled over their disagreement, settling on Hobi with the stipulation that you would, in turn, wash Yoongi’s hair for him.

Exiting the shower, you did your best to dry off in the tiny bathroom together. This resulted in laughs, knocked over toiletries on the bathroom counter, and more than one occurrence of someone almost falling over. You changed into borrowed clothes, an oversized t-shirt from Yoongi and joggers from Hobi.

Climbing into the unused bed, the three of you curled up together, snuggling in each other’s arms. The softness of these men surprised you. They clearly had personalities they didn’t show very often, only in private and not to most people. But for some reason, they were showing those sides of themselves to you. They had shown you that reputations weren’t important, that people’s pasts didn’t define them. More importantly, they had shown you that your own reputation wasn’t something you should care about the way you always had.

Your eyes fluttered closed, drifting in and out of sleep. Right before you fell asleep, you heard Yoongi’s deep, raspy voice from behind you whisper, “We didn’t ruin you like we said we would earlier. You ruined other women for us.”

You were beginning to think the same was true for them too.

#bts smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #jhope smut #hoseok smut #jhope fic #jhope fanfic #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #btsafterdarknet #bangtanstreet23 #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive

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joonsmagicshop · 5 days

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Bad Idea....right?

Summary: Sneaking into your enemy Jung Hoseok's party to make Kim Taehyung jealous is a bad idea....right?

Paring: Reader/Hoseok (Taehyung, Jimin Jungkook and Namjoon are characters)

Word Count: 8K

Rating: M 18+

Tags: A/U, smut, making someone jealous, douchebag jimin, douchebag taehyung, Dom hobi, best friend namjoon, enemies to lovers, getting ghosted, confessing feelings, fingering, eating pussy, hickies, spanking, Dom Hobi but also soft sweet hobi, penetrative sex, teasing.

Authors Note: I've been reading a lot enemies to lovers and decided to try it out for myself. Because I write so much Namjoon I wanted to broaden my writing so Hobi it is. This was fun to write.

“Hey, Joon!” You say trying to balance the phone on your shoulder as you lean in to apply another layer of mascara, dropping your phone on your vanity in the process.

You let out a frustrated sigh and put him on speaker as you continue to work on your makeup.

“What happened are you okay?” He asks voice laced with concern.

“Yeah I’m okay Joon just dropped my phone. What are you up to tonight?” You ask as you flutter your eyelashes and begin to work on pulling your hair back into a half updo.

“Not much just got a new book I’ve been dying to read so just ordered some dinner and going to read.'“ He says as you softly smile.

“What about you?” He asks.

“Oh you know….not much.” You say as sweetly as you can.

“Y/N I’ve known you for too long to know when you are telling the truth or lying. That was your lying voice.” He replies as you roll your eyes and finally get your hair in a style you like.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” You tease as you hear him chuckle on the other line.

He knows you too well.

“Y/N please just tell me what you are up to.” He sighs as you stand from your vanity to run your hands down your outfit.

“Well, I called because I did want to know how your night was going. Honest. I also wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me tonight… somewhere.” You say softly.

“Go out where?” Namjoon’s voice is laced with suspicion and it makes you want to laugh. He was always the rock in your friendship, the stable, logical one. You were more wild and free, doing what you wanted and dragging him along for the ride.

“To a party.” You say apprehensively as you hear Namjoon let out an audible groan on the other end.

“It’s not his party is it?” Namjoon asks and you fiddle with your black sheer top.

“Who’s party are you referring to? You tease.

“Jung Hoseok.” Namjoon spits out and you grimace.

The silence on your end tells Namjoon everything he needs to know.

“Y/N, please. Please tell me you are not thinking of sneaking into Jung Hoseok’s house party tonight. You both are going to tear each other apart and I’m not breaking you out of jail when you break his face.” Namjoon sighs sounding weary.

“Relax Namjoon he won’t even know I’m there. Besides I’m not going for him.” You assure him.

“You both hate each other, loathe each other because you tell me how much you hate him all day every day and you think you can sneak into his party unnoticed? Come on Y/N.” Namjoon says as you start to shove things you need into a beaded bag.

“So if not to break his face then what reason do you need to sneak into a house party and drag me along? And if you say Kim Taehyung I’m hanging up on you.” Namjoon says and you bite your lip.

He knows you too damn well.

“Y/N Please tell me you are not going to this party because of Kim Taehyung. Promise me.” He pleads.

“I can’t promise you that Joonie.” You say in a small voice as Namjoon lets out a frustrated groan.

“He went on a date with you and Ghosted you. Poof. Gone. And now you want to sneak into Hoseok’s to do what exactly?” Namjoon grills you as you begin to pace your room.

“I want to go to this party and find a hot stranger to dance with and make him see what he is missing out on.” You respond trying to fight the hurt in your chest.

“Y/N it’s not worth it. He is not worth it. Kim Taehyung is trash, ghosting you like that. Please don’t go it’s such a bad idea.” He pleads but it’s too late, your phone alerts you that your ride is here.

“Namjoon my ride is here. I’m going to be fine. It’s going to be fine.” You assure him, or maybe yourself as you slip on your heels and head towards the front door.

“Y/N you can come over here and we can hang out. I’ll make you tea and we can talk and watch those romance movies you love. You don’t need to sneak into this party you don’t need to make Taehyung jealous he is so not worth it and if he can’t see your worth he’s trash in my eyes, and Hoseok I mean you hate him. Hate him down to his bones and you want to take a chance running into him. Please this is a bad idea. Taehyung is not worth it.” Namjoon pleads over the phone.

“See ya Joon. I’ll keep you up to date.” You say as you hang up and slip your phone in your beaded bag.

Time to show Kim Taehyung what he is missing out on.

Jung Hoseok lives across town so you lean your head against the car window as it navigates the busy Friday night streets.

You can feel your phone vibrating in your beaded bag but you don’t bother to take it out, you know it’s Namjoon trying to talk you out of going to this party.

He just doesn’t understand.

You met Taehyung at a coffee shop. You had just gotten your laptop out and were setting up to work when he approached your table.

He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen, with dark hair that fell over his eyes and a shy boxy smile.

He apologized for intruding but the seat across from you was the only one left and he really wanted to get some work done.

The table was big enough for two so you introduced yourself and let him share your table. He seemed shy and quiet which you didn’t mind and after only an hour of work, you found your eyes drawn over the top of your computer to his handsome face which was screwed up in concentration.

He caught you and you both blushed, he gave up work to chat with you and give you his number.

He seemed so nice in the beginning, and the first date you had was lovely but after, that radio silence.

He seemed to disappear off the face of the planet and even though it was just one date you felt crushed that it didn’t work out or go further.

No matter how many times Namjoon had told you Taehyung was trash, even asking around to find out that he ghosted people quite often and it was a regular thing, your heart couldn’t let go of the shy cute boy in the cafe.

So when you heard about this party and knew that Taehyung was a close friend of your enemy Jung Hoseok you jumped at the chance to make him see what he was missing out on, to make him jealous and overall make him wish he didn’t ghost you.

As for Jung Hoseok, well he was just a know-it-all stuck-up douchebag. You shared some of the same friends so he always seemed to just…be around. You got along like Fire and Gasolene and both of you were not afraid to have full-blown arguments in front of anyone and everyone. Namjoon had to drag you away a couple of times when the fight got too heated.

Hoesok thought you were too stuck up and prissy, you thought he was a know-it-all with too big of an ego. There was no catalyst, no driving force you both just hated each other from day one.

Namjoon was right though, sneaking into a party, especially Jung Hoseoks's party was a bad idea, you knew it was, but you couldn’t help yourself, knowing that it would be a chance for you to see Taehyung again.

The party was in full swing by the time your cab dropped you off at the curb. You handed him some money and straightened yourself out as he pulled away leaving you standing on the sidewalks in the dark, the only sounds coming from the giant house in front of you.

Another reason you hated Hoseok, he was rich, filthy rich, and liked to flaunt it by throwing grand parties and plastering it all over his social media.

Not that you followed him on social media, you just happened to look a couple of times.

You held your bag close to your body as you walked up to the front door, your heart was hammering in your chest, and you grabbed for the knob to turn it and swing the door open.

You were met with strobe lights and blasting music, the smell of sweat, sex, and weed permeated the air as you stepped over the threshold and clutched your bag.

You hunched over trying to make yourself small as you navigated the packed house trying your best to find Taehyung before Hoseok found you.

The living room was tightly packed with people as you tried to nudge your way in, the kitchen was even worse and as you stood on your tiptoes to search for a mop of dark hair you got nudged and pushed into the wall.

You rubbed your sore arm but the person who nudged you didn’t seem to care, just as soon as they hit you they were swallowed by the crowd.

You had to find Taehyung but navigating this crowd was almost impossible.

You finally pushed and nudged yourself into the kitchen and poured yourself a drink trying to calm your nerves, with all the people you were starting to feel claustrophobic.

You feel a hand on your arm and you flinch when you look up to see Park Jimin staring down at you, his eyes glassy and gaze unfocused.

“Hey Y/N didn’t know you’d be here tonight.” He slurs, breath fanning your face reeking of booze.

You cringe

“Yeah well, it was kind of a last-minute decision.” You reply trying to inch away from him.

Park Jimin was one of Taehyung’s closest friends and was known to be a total fuck boy. Even the way he was looking at you right now made you feel like he was undressing you with his eyes.

You wanted to get away from him as soon as possible and keep searching the party. You’d never tell Jimin that you were looking for Taehyung, he would probably just laugh in your face.

“Mhmm, you should come dance with me.” He slurs as his hands grab for your hips. You try to push him off of you but he has you backed against a wall.

“No, I’m good I’m not much of a dancer” You reply almost yelling at him over the beat of the new song that is playing.

“So yes you will?” He shouts as he leans in, breath fanning over your cheeks as you put your hands on his chest to try to push him away.

“No Jimin. No, thank you!” You shout as the music seems to get louder, or maybe that is the blood pounding in your ears.

You fist your hands into his shirt and try to push him away but he is strong.

“Come dance with me Y/N you look so fucking hot tonight.” He growls in your ear, hands roaming your hips.

You gasp for air trying to make eye contact with someone, anyone in the kitchen to come save you. Your hands grab Jimin’s to keep them from inching further up your naked legs as you try to push him off of you.

Panic sets in when he doesn’t stop and starts to grind his bulge against you. You are trying your best to get him off of you, begging him to leave you alone.

You want to shout out for Taehyung to help you, for Namjoon who is on the other side of town to help you, for someone, anyone, to push Jimin off of you.

Right as you close your eyes and steady yourself to give him a huge shove a hand comes up to his shoulder and peels him off of you.

Your eyes snap open and you stare at Jimin who is unsteady on his feet, grabbing the table he nearly got flung into for support.

You look up to your savor, appreciation dies on your lips when you see it is Jung Hoseok, staring you down as if you are dirt under his newest pair of shoes.

Well fuck.

“Park Jimin go drink some water you drunk fuck and if I catch you doing this to anyone else at this party I will chop your balls off. Understand?” Hoseok barks out as he continues to stare you down.

“Relax Hobi I was just having some fun,” Jimin grumbles as he rubs at his side where it hit the table.

You are still plastered against the wall panic still rising in your throat as Hoseok breaks your gaze to stare at Jimin in disgust.

“As I said I will chop your balls clean off your body if you do that again. If someone says no they mean no Jimin. Now get out of here.” Hoseok demands as Jimin shoots him a dirty look and leaves the kitchen getting swallowed up by the crowd

You swallow hard when Hoseok’s narrowed eyes land on you. You have never felt intimidated by him but something about him staring you down left all the insults you wanted to shout at him dead on your tongue.

“Well, well, well. Sneaking into a party you were most definitely not invited to, trying to hide in the crowd so I don’t spot you then needing me to come save you. Ironic huh? The one person you didn’t want to see saved your ass.'“ He coos at you as you finally peel yourself from the wall and stare him down.

"I think the words you are looking for are Thank You.” He says with a sly smirk which has your blood boiling.

“I was fine. I didn’t need your help.” You spit at him staring him down, heart racing in your chest.

“Believe me love, Park Jimin wouldn’t have stopped unless I peeled his sorry ass off of you. A simple thank you won’t kill you.” His eyes roam your body “Or maybe it will, don’t think I’ve ever heard you say those words.”

You grit your teeth wishing you had a drink in your hand so you could throw it at his beautiful face.

“Whatever Hoseok. I’m not here to fight you anyway. Or here for stupid Park Jimin to grope me.” You say gaze leaving his so you can scan the crowd some more, eyes still not seeing that mess of brown hair that belongs to Taehyung.

“Well seeing as you snuck into this party I can only assume you didn’t want to see me at all. You’re here for Kim Taehyung aren’t you?” He says with a quirk of his eyebrow as your mouth drops.

He throws back his head and laughs and you want to hit him, your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“So predictable.” He purrs as your hands bawl into fists at your side. You really hope Namjoon was kidding about not breaking you out of jail because you feel very close to punching Hoseok right in the mouth.

“Shut up Hoseok you don’t know anything.” You say shooting him a death glare as you cross your arms over your chest and try to look intimidating, which doesn’t work because you are a whole head shorter than him even in heels.

“Oh, I know plenty of things.” He comments, his eyes sparkling as they lock with yours.

“I know how he went on a date with you. Ghosted you. And how he came to this party with some blonde chick hanging all over him. I saw them maybe twenty minutes ago. Looked like they were headed outside.” He says leaning in, his eyes wander your body again and you shiver.

“And I can only assume Kim Namjoon is around here somewhere, asshole couldn’t even pull Jimin off you so I had to?”

You swallow hard.

“No, he stayed home tonight. Just me here.” You respond

“Good choice. I always thought he was smart.” Hoseok says as someone bumps into him, sending him nearly crashing into you if he didn’t hold onto the wall above your head.

Your eyes flit up to meet his, his breath is warm on your face and every fiber of your being is confused between wanting to kiss him and wanting to run far far away from him.

“How do I know you're not lying to me.” You whisper as you feel his body press into yours further.

“I could be. Or maybe I’m not. How many laps around my house are you going to do before you realize I’m right? Wow, two thank yous in one night. I think you might collapse under the pressure.” He teases as he pushes away from the wall giving you space to breathe.

You aren’t sure what to say. Or how to feel. The only thing you know is you should get out of here. Now. You have embarrassed yourself enough for one night and you knew in your heart that Hoseok would never let you live it down.

Your eyes flit to his heart-shaped mouth and you swallow.

For a brief instant, you wonder what they would feel like pressed against yours and that’s when you know it’s time to leave. You are completely sober wanting Jung Hoseok to kiss you. Times up, games over, time to leave.

You push yourself off the wall and try to move past him but his hand is quick on your hip pulling you back as you growl at him in frustration.

“And where do you think you're going?” He coos, long fingers keeping you in place.

“I’m leaving. You don’t want me here anyway. Goodbye.” You grit out clenching your teeth.

“What and I don’t get my thank yous? Seems kind of harsh. I was a gentleman tonight after all. Your knight in shining armor if you will.” He teases as his one hand runs down the front of his black shirt, puffing out his chest to you.

“You're no better than Park Jimin holding me here against the wall.” You bite back trying once again to push past him only to be blocked.

“Park Jimin doesn’t take no for an answer. I do. Just say the word and I’m gone.” He growls as his lips come down to ghost your neck and you shiver.

What the fuck is going on.

You hate Jung Hoseok with every fiber of your being.

You have hated him since you first lay eyes on him

So why did you feel so turned on, and flustered at him pining you against a wall?

You could say no.

You could walk away.

You could get a cab and go to Namjoon’s and cry into his arms about how Taehyung clearly moved on.

But you didn’t do any of those things

You didn’t want to do any of those things.

Something about fighting with Hoseok set off a fire in you that you weren’t sure how to extinguish but you knew you needed more.

“Do you ever shut up?” You fight back weakly as his lips curl into a devilish smile.

“Ah, so instead of saying thank you we are playing the insult game.” He says voice low as he dips his head down to ghost his lips over the shell of your ear.

Even in the warm kitchen you shiver and you feel him grin.

“Hoseok.” You almost whine out closing your eyes and hating the way you sound, so broken, so desperate for a man you can’t stand.

“Shall we do a lap and see if we can find your precious Taehyung? I know all the best hiding spots. This is my house after all.” He purrs in your ear.

Taehyung

Right

That’s why you were here.

“You said he was gone.” You whisper as people walk by unaware of the turmoil going on in your mind.

You aren’t sure if you want to kiss him or hit him but you need to keep him talking until you figure it out.

“Ah, so you did believe me?” He teases, letting his hand that is resting on your hip play with the hem of your shirt.

You suck in a breath.

“I don’t know what to believe, You are a dick after all. Isn’t this all just a game to you?” You ask trying to keep your voice steady when his long fingers slip under your shirt to play with your heated skin.

“Maybe? Maybe not. That’s for you to decide. This is my house. My party. And I graciously pulled Jimin off of you and made sure you were okay. That doesn’t seem like dick behavior to me.” He teases as his hand traces your skin higher. You arch into his touch and he chuckles low and dark in your ear.

His hands continue to move higher and any insult you want to throw back at him leaves your brain. You can’t think, can’t focus when his fingers touch you like that

His long fingers graze the bottom of your bralette making you gasp and shiver as he chuckles darkly in your ear.

Just as you are about to say something, do something a hand taps his shoulder and Hoseok whips around to see Jungkook standing there blushing wildly and looking like he wants to be anywhere else.

“Sorry, Hyung you said to come get you if something happened. Someone broke a vase upstairs there’s glass all over the floor. I’ll clean it I just want to know where your stuff is?” He asks timidly as his big brown eyes land on you and he shyly smiles.

“It’s fine Kook I’ll clean it myself.” He says pushing away from you as you feel air start to enter your lungs again.

Hoseok turns to you and you can finally take him in, how wild he looks, how his eyes are dark clouded with lust, and how his tongue darts out to lick at his lips.

You feel your legs tremble from his look alone.

“Upstairs, turn right last door on the right. Or leave. Your choice.” He says to you shooting you a wink and looping an arm around Jungkook as he heads off to find cleaning supplies.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, your pussy is throbbing and soaking wet and you can’t seem to catch your breath

What the fuck

What the actual fuck.

You push your way out of the kitchen and head to the backyard where a group of people seem to be milling about and smoking.

You stay far away from them and tuck yourself into a small secluded area as you take several deep breaths and try to calm down.

You don’t like Hoseok

There is no way you do, no way you can.

But there was something about him tonight that was so attractive it made you feel things that you most definitely thought you’d never. Ever. Feel for him

You take your time staring up at the sky and catching your breath when you hear a high-pitched giggle echo over the backyard.

You snap your head up to see Kim Taehyung holding the hand of some blonde girl and pushing her up against the side of the house. You watch as his lips find her neck and he peppers kisses down them, her little squeals and moans echoing throughout the yard though neither of them seem to care they have an audience.

You feel your throat tighten and your chest ache.

Namjoon was right Taehyung wasn’t thinking about you and he totally wasn’t worth it.

And the worst part of it all had nothing to do with Taehyung.

It was the fact that Jung Hoseok was right. Taehyung did come here with someone else.

You push yourself from your hiding place and head across the yard to go find Hoseok. You are not sure why you need to see him, you could leave right now and forget this whole thing but something inside you is telling you to find him. Maybe it’s all the emotion swirling inside you ready to explode, maybe you just want to fight someone to get all this anger, frustration, and sorrow out.

Either way, you make your way across the yard, the blood pounding in your ears deafens the moans the girl is letting out when Taehyung grinds himself into her.

He doesn’t even notice you crossing the yard, not that it matters anymore.

You make your way back into the house pushing past the crowd of people as you make your way up the stairs. You turn right and stare at the last door on the right, heart hammering wildly in your chest as you approach it.

You knock and without warning you let yourself in.

The room is massive with a huge king-sized bed in the middle. You’d take a second to appreciate the decor if your eyes weren’t so focused on the man sprawled out on the bed, face illuminated by the soft overhead lighting, long fingers scrolling his phone.

His eyes snap up to yours and he sends you a devilish grin that has your toes curling as he throws his phone to the side and you step through the doorway to slam the door closed muffling the party below.

He sits up on the bed and parts his legs, spreading them wide as you walk up to him.

You stand proud between his spread legs as he looks up at you, taking his time to push his hair back from his face.

“I’m only going to say this once so you better listen close. Thank you for saving me from Jimin. Thank you for not lying to me about Taehyung. I saw him. He’s here.” You grit out keeping your hands bawled into fists at your side.

“And you're still standing and haven’t been turned to dust by those thank yous. I’m surprised.” He teases as you frown at him.

“I think the words you are looking for are you’re welcome.” You tease back as he grins at you.

There is a strange silence that hangs in the air. You said all you needed to and had every intention of turning around and storming out, but something was holding you in place maybe it was Hoseok’s intense gaze.

“So you saw him then?” He asks softly, all the bite in his voice gone.

You nod your head feeling too exhausted to fight

“Did you…talk to him?” Hoseok asks and you are surprised at his question. All the two of you ever did was argue and fight, this was the first normal conversation you had with him in ages.

“No, I did not.” You say avoiding looking at him, instead finally taking in the decor of the room as a welcome distraction.

“You came all this way, snuck into a party you were not invited to, and tried to avoid me only to find him and not talk to him. Y/N you aren’t a coward I know that for sure.” He teases.

“He was preoccupied with someone else.” You say trying your best to avoid his gaze.

His hands come out to hold your wrists and he runs his thumbs over your palm in soothing circles.

“When he told me about the date I warned him to stay away from you. He’s my friend but I also know what he has a habit of doing. He didn’t believe me. Thought I was saying that because of how…we are. I’m sorry Y/N you must have been excited about him to go through all this trouble.” He says as you stare down at him in shock.

“Why are you acting like you care all of a sudden?” You ask flinching out of his grasp. This is all too much, this isn’t how it is with Hoseok and it’s throwing you off.

“Maybe because I do care? Ever thought of that.” He bites out standing from the bed as you cower under his intense gaze.

“N-No you don’t… don’t lie to me Hoseok.” You spit out feeling off-kilter at the new information.

Hoseok advances towards you until you are flushed up against the door. His hands come to rest above your head and he looks down at you with such anger in his features it makes you shiver.

“Like I lied about Kim Taehyung being here? Like I lied about who he came with? You keep painting me as a villain so I became your villain.” He growls in your ear.

You gasp when he slots his knee in between your legs and grinds it against your aching core, your skirt rides up and your flimsy underwear does nothing to hide your arousal as you grip his shirt for support.

“You know what. I’m going to lay it all out and well… you already hate me so it can’t get worse right?” He mutters as he pushes his knee harder into your core making you let out a high-pitched whine.

“You think I like arguing with you? Fighting with you? Do you think I like that I can’t have a normal conversation with you? I do it because it gets your attention. It’s a shit way to do it but you always have guys surrounding you, talking to you, complimenting you. And I can’t compete with that. So I get you angry, make you feel things so you keep your eyes on me. I’ve liked you for so long and you never wanted to give me a chance but if I get you mad… I get you. It’s shit I know I’m not proud of it. But it works. You came to this party for Taehyung but you're soaking wet right now for me and me only.” He growls as you arch your head back when one of his hands leaves the wall to trace down your side.

“You-hold on… you like me?” You breathe out as your head feels dizzy and you stare at his handsome face.

“God I’ve liked you for ages.” He whispers breath hot on your neck as he leans down and presses a soft sweet kiss to your exposed neck making you shiver and grip his shirt for dear life.

"Hobi.” You whine out as his eyes snap to yours.

You have never called him that before. It was always Hoseok.

“Use your words. Tell me?” He asks voice strained as he continues to apply pressure to your clit.

“Please I can’t- I-.” You say breathlessly as you push him away trying to regain breath.

Hobi backs away and shoots you a dejected look as he stares at the floor, hair falling in front of his beautiful face.

Before you can speak, or explain he points to the door.

“You should go.” He mutters as he turns his back to you and flops back down on the bed.

You watch as he flops down and buries his face in the pillows. He looks so dejected and sad and your head is still spinning trying to process it all. He likes you. He confessed to liking you. No matter how much you thought you didn’t like him you can’t leave him like this.

You silently walk over and sit down on the bed, your hand comes out to rub soothing circles on his back.

He looks over to see you are still there and he slowly sits up.

“You can go. Don’t feel guilty and want to stay. You pushed me away. You don’t like me back. I get it.” He rambles fiddling with the bedspread not looking at you.

“Hobi. I just… I didn’t mean to give you that impression it’s just hard to think when you were pressing your knee into me like that. My body and brain couldn’t function.” You say with a small smile as his eyes finally snap up to yours.

“Let’s go back a bit. You like me?” You ask as he whines and covers his face with his hands.

“You don’t like me back. I get it. Don’t make me admit it again.” He says voice small and vulnerable as you grab his wrists to pull his hands away from his face.

“I never said I didn’t.”

His eyes widen.

“I came here for Taehyung but in the kitchen… I wanted to kiss you. I made you angry, I kept you talking because I wanted to buy myself more time so I could figure my feelings out. I’ve never thought about kissing you before.” You admit as he buries his face behind his hands and groans.

“Well, thanks that’s promising.” He responds as you pull him in for a hug trying to comfort him.

“Hobi you have liked me for a while and had tons of time to process your feelings. I haven’t. Two hours ago I thought I hated you.” You admit as he pulls out of your hug to stare at you.

“And now? How do you feel now?” He asks.

“Like I still really want to know what your lips taste like.” You say shyly

Hobi jumps up from the bed and for a second you wonder if you scared him off but he goes over to lock his bedroom door and races back to the bed.

“Can I kiss you Y/N?” He whispers breath hot against your face as he kneels on the floor before you.

You look down at him, his handsome face, eyes blown wide and you nod.

You place your hands on his shoulders for support and lean in as Hobi wastes no time pressing his lips into yours. His lips are soft and sweet and he takes his time with you, his tenderness surprising you as he keeps his hands respectfully on the bed.

You push your lips into his deepening the kiss and tangle your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck which causes a low groan to fall from his mouth.

You gasp and pull away as he stares up at you through heavy lids.

“Fuck Hobi.” You mutter, eyes flicking down to his lips which are slightly red from kissing, and when you look further down you can see a sizeable bulge tenting the front of his black pants.

“You are so hot when you moan.” You admit as he wastes no time and stands up to push you down on the bed. He crawls on top of you as you giggle and he is once again kissing you. His hands hold him up so he doesn’t crush you and his body flush against yours.

You can feel everything.

His lips which are soft but firm against yours, his hair which is tickling your face, his chest which presses against yours with such a delicious pressure it makes your nipples harden, and his cock, hard and straining against his pants as he pushes it into your thigh.

He grinds slowly against you as he continues to kiss your lips.

You moan and whine as he rolls to his side and drags you with him, tangling his free hand in your hair as he does so.

He continues to rut against your hip and your hands run down the front of his shirt, slipping under the expensive material to feel his bare heated skin on your palms.

“Fuck Y/N Fuck.” He moans out when your hands run over his nipples.

You grin.

You both pull away from the kiss and stare at each other breathing heavily and taking it all in.

“Wow.” You whisper.

“How do you…feel now?” He asks timidly and the blush that covers his cheeks is so cute it makes you grin.

“Like I want to kiss you again and again. And maybe do more.” You say and instantly he is on top of you again, kissing your lips and grinding his hard cock into your core.

You scratch at his back as you arch up to meet his hungry lips, your body rolling against his to relieve the ache between your legs that seems to be growing by the minute.

“You're so hot. Fuck you are so hot. Taehyung fucked up real bad ghosting you. Fuck.” Hobi whines out as he places kisses on your cheeks and moves down your neck to suck a harsh mark that has a broken moan falling from your parted lips.

His hands come down to the hem of your shirt and he pulls it over your head and throws it somewhere in the room. His dark eyes widen when he takes in your dark bralette that is covered with delicate lace and his hands run up and down your stomach as you shamelessly grind into him.

“Please Ho-bi please.” You whine out as he rolls you both over so you are now straddling him. His hands effortlessly unclasp your bra and throw it as you can hear the bass bumping downstairs as the party continues, oblivious to what the host is doing right now.

His large fingers cup your breasts and when he flicks his thumbs over your nipples you grind down harder on his cock. He clenches his teeth as he squeezes your breasts massaging them in his large hands and making you arch your back, pushing yourself harder into his length.

“Fuck you know how long I have dreamed of this. Having you under me, or on top of me. Fuck.”

Hobi’s hands grab your thighs to part them further as you sit up a bit and he drags his knuckles between your wet folds, feeling how you have soaked through your underwear.

You let out a broken moan and he grins wickedly.

“Though you have been bad today. Acting like a fucking brat in the kitchen. I’m not going to let you get away with that so easily. Kneel on the bed ass up face down. Time for your punishment Princess.” He says forcefully pushing you off of him as you stare at him in shock.

“Come on now we don’t have all night.” He says tapping your thigh which has you scrambling to get in position for him.

“Good girl. Knew you could behave.” He growls as his hands lift your skirt and you bury your face in the pillows shivering in anticipation.

“I’m thinking Five Spanks because you have been a fucking brat for the five years I’ve known you.”

You nod as you bury your face further into the pillows and blankets and when the first spank hits you feel the zing all the way down to your curled toes.

Your ass is on fire and Hobi is chuckling darkly behind you as he massages the red flesh of your ass.

“One.”

The next three come one after the other and you are whining and crying on the bed. You try to squeeze your legs together to help with the ache.

“One more baby girl. One more.” He says as he lines up and spanks you hard. Your head falls into the mattress and his name falls like a prayer from your lips.

You can feel your arousal leaking down your pussy and without warning Hobi scoots on the bed and opens your legs harshly as he licks you up.

You cry out his name as he pulls your asscheeks apart to get better access to your dripping pussy and he licks your slit, dancing his tongue along making your stomach clench and your thighs tense up.

“Ho-Hobi fuck fuck!” You cry out as he licks and sucks at your clit. You flutter your eyes closed and let the prettiest whines and moans fall from your mouth. He is too good at that and is bringing you to the edge closer than you would like to be.

“Ho-Hobi gotta stop I’m gonna-please fuck.” You babble out as he lifts his head and softly kisses the red handprints on your ass.

“You got me too close. Fuck Hobi your mouth. Wow.” You say turning over to lay on your back as you stare at him slowly standing up and taking off his shirt.

Your eyes are met with miles of toned beautiful skin and when he undoes his pants with nimble fingers you are gasping. He pulls them down and you can see his hard cock straining against his boxers.

You scoot to the end of the bed and press soft kisses to his bare skin. Your lips start at his sternum and work down his body as his hands tangle in your hair. You take your time savoring his skin as you kiss down until your lips are right at the waistband of his boxers.

You bring your lips to his hipbone sucking the skin there as your hand moves to cup his impressive bulge.

Hobi lets out a whine as you begin to dance your fingers along his shaft and finally pull his boxers down as his length smacks your cheek.

“Fuck that’s so hot holy shit,” Hobi grits out as his fingers grab the base of his cock harshly and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Gonna cum already? Wow Hoseok.” You taunt him as his eyes grow dark and he grabs your arm harshly and forces you to kneel on the bed.

“Such a fucking brat Y/N I thought I’d be gentle with you but I think you prefer being manhandled huh? Is that why you fought me so much, you secretly got off on it?” He asks as he leaves you there to rifle through his room to find a condom.

“I think you get off on it Hoseok. Spanking me and eating my pussy nearly made you cum. I hardly touched you and you're ready to blow your load.” You shoot back as he tears open the condom packet and rolls it down his impressive length.

“You know how many times I’d be done arguing with you and having a raging hard-on after. I’d jerk myself off thinking about putting you in your place. Shutting you up with my cock in your mouth or in your pussy. I think you like the fire, like the danger. I think you like being put in your place as much as I like putting you in your place.” Hoseok says as he kisses you harshly.

This kiss was completely different than the soft slow ones earlier, this was all teeth and tongue and roughness as he forced his tongue into your mouth.

His right-hand wanders down your body and he harshly rubs your clit which has you moaning into his mouth as he works you hard and fast, not giving you a second to recover as he kisses you with such force it nearly throws you back on the bed.

“What do you want Y/N… tell me.” He growls out as his hand continues to speed up on your clit causing broken moans to fall from your mouth as you bury your head into his shoulder.

You can’t think

Can’t breathe

Can’t concentrate

He plunges two fingers into your pussy and begins to scissor them harshly as you cry out against the bare skin of his shoulder.

He is saying things to you but you can hardly hear them over the music downstairs and the blood pumping in your ears.

You are close

So close to cumming all over his fingers.

Your hand reaches out to grab his bicep for support as you feel your whole body spasm, you are so close and the way his skilled fingers are moving you know you are going to cum soon.

Hoseok must feel it because right as you are on the edge he pulls back and you stare up at him in shock and anger as he takes his time licking his fingers clean.

“Hoseok what the fuck I was close you jerk!” You cry out as he smirks at you.

“I said use your words. What. Do. You. Want.” He says popping his fingers out of his mouth and staring you down with a heated gaze.

You go to reach for his cock, to give him the same treatment he gave you but he’s too quick and he swats your hand away.

“Again use your words. You never had any trouble telling me off before. Now tell me what you want.” He goads looking way too smug.

“You know what I want.” You fight back.

“Do I?” He challenges.

“Yes, you do.” You challenge back.

“God I love it when you are feisty. Makes me so fucking hard.” He says circling his hand around his cock and lazily pumping it.

You can’t tear your eyes away from him jerking his cock in front of you as you feel your arousal coat your thighs.

“Still not hearing the words I want. I could just stand here and jerk myself off and watch you suffer.” he teases as you grit your teeth.

“Wasn’t thanking you twice tonight enough.” You snap back as he throws his head back and laughs.

“Nah I want to hear it. Want to hear you beg me for my cock.” He says stepping forward to line his cockhead up with your folds.

He runs it up and down your slit letting your arousal coat him and you throw your head back and whine.

“Hoseok. Please.” You beg him grinding your hips down.

“God I love when you call me Hoseok. So fucking sexy.” He says still running his cockhead through your folds.

“Hoseok, please. Please fuck me.” You finally break as he smirks and grabs your body to push you down on the bed.

Face down ass up.

You bury your face once again in the messed up sheets as he kneels on the bed and spreads you open, taking his time teasing your pussy with his cockhead before slipping inside.

You cry out his name as he takes his time inching inside of you.

Once he bottoms out he rubs soft circles on your hips as you squeeze your eyes shut and try to take slow deep breaths to relax against his girth.

“Fuck you are so tight around me.” He says as he leans forward to press soft kisses along your spine.

You slowly roll your hips to adjust to his size and once the sting subsides you start to fuck yourself back against his cock which causes him to squeeze your hips.

“How are you holding up? Is it okay if I move?” He asks softly tracing patterns on your back.

“Hoseok fuck me. Please.” You cry out.

You can hear him snicker above you and right as his hips are about to move someone knocks on the door.

You freeze, eyes blown wide and heart hammering as Hoseok stills his movements, cock still inside of you.

“Hobi Hyung!” Comes a voice you recognize a little bit too well and you turn your head back to see Hoseok’s shocked face.

Taehyung is at the door knocking, while Hoseok is balls deep inside of you.

“Want to show him what he’s missing.” Hoseok growls and before you can answer he starts to fuck into you roughly.

You can’t help but cry out his name as you grip the sheets and feel his hard cock slide in and out of your pussy.

He delivers a light spank to your ass which has you shamelessly moaning loud enough for Taehyung to hear.

“Fuck Y/N you feel so good!” Hoseok moans out and you try to bite back your grin as you know for a fact Taehyung must have heard.

You can’t focus on Taehyung when Hoseok is ramming into you like his life depends on it so you continue to moan and cry out on the bed not caring if anyone could hear you or not.

Your stomach starts to tense and you can feel yourself getting close again.

Hoseok must realize because he angles his hips and starts to pound into your g-spot repeatedly causing your eyes to flutter closed and your hands to close around the bedsheets aggressively.

“Hoseok. Please. Don’t stop. Please.” You beg as he grabs your hips and forces you to fuck yourself back on his cock.

“Come on beautiful show that asshole what he missed out on. God this pussy is heaven I can’t wait to fuck you over and over and over. The only pussy I want to be buried in. Cum for me beautiful. Cum around my cock” Hoseok demands and you lose it.

You arch your back and cry out his name as you throw your head back. Your orgasm washes over you like waves and your pussy clenches tightly around his cock.

Hoseok hisses behind you as he continues to fuck into you but soon enough you feel him spill into the condom with a cry of your name.

You finally come down from your high as he pulls out of you and you flop down on your stomach and breathe deeply, feeling fuzzy but happy as you breathe in the scent of him all over the sheets.

You feel Hoseok move from the bed and return with a warm towel.

He takes his time spreading your cheeks to clean the mess of your pussy and you sigh happily when he throws the towel in the room and climbs into bed with you, laying on his side so he can look at your face.

“Wow, Hobi. Wow.” You whisper as you push stray hairs away from his face.

“I think this is the first time we agree on something.” He teases as you lightly smack his arm

“I don’t want to fight with you anymore.” You admit. “And I’m sorry for all the times I did.”

He softly smiles at you and kisses both your cheeks.

“Me too.” He agrees lacing his fingers with yours.

“Can I take you on a date sometime this week? Maybe get to know you without all the arguing?” He says softly kissing your knuckles which makes you giggle.

“Of course Hobi.”

You lay there taking each other in for a while before you both remember there is a party going on downstairs and you should probably rejoin it.

You take your time redressing, stealing glances at each other as you adjust your clothes.

A knock at the door makes you both look up.

“Hobi hyung! It’s important!” You hear Taehyung call and you smirk as Hobi laces his fingers through yours and throws the door open.

You both are clearly still disheveled and Tae’s mouth drops when he takes in the sight of you both, you purposely throw your hair back to show off the mark he sucked into your skin.

“Um.” He says eyes flicking between the both of you, jaw dropped.

“My-my date threw up and I want to know how to clean it?” He asks eyes narrowing in on the mark on your neck and shoulder.

You giggle.

“Hey Tae long time no see!” You say to him as he blushes under your gaze.

“The laundry room in the basement has everything you need. You can clean it I’m not your babysitter you know.” Hobi says as he pushes past Taehyung dragging you with him as you hide your giddy giggles behind your hands.

“Also please don’t ghost this one. It’s super embarrassing for you to keep doing that. You keep missing out on all of these amazing women because you're scared to commit.” Hobi throws over his shoulder as you bury your giggles in his arm and head back down to the party

#Jung Hoseok #Hobi #bts #hoseok smut #hobi smut #hobi/reader #hoseok/reader #hobi/ reader smut #hoseok/reader smut #bts fanfic #bts smut

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