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eddiessluttywaist · 1 year

Text

as if

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES.

summary: eddie taunts reader daily, but… she kinda likes it? just never does anything about it. not until she has to tutor him, anyway.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 7,901 words

content/warnings: swearing, some angst at the beginning kinda, mention of death (barb), SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, arguing, breeding kink, hate sex, brief masturbation mentions, mocking, teasing, anxiety kinda, spitting, invasion of privacy (eddie goes through her things), eddie’s a dirty lil pantie stealer and sniffer, y/n is a c*m sl*t, bulge kink(?), dacryphilia, groping, choking, daddy kink if you squint real hard, mentions of virginity (y/n is not a virgin), pet names (doll face, princess), degradation (use of slut). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: i have to say tbh i don’t see eddie ever being a bully so this is technically like an au!eddie?…but also… uhhhh very hot. makes my brain wiggle with heat waves so here we are. hope you like it! <3

part two - part three

As if.

It’s a simple statement, really, and you meant no harm when you said it. It was just something to be said… that didn’t mean he didn’t hear it though.

That also didn’t mean it didn’t tick him off.

You were surprisingly pretty to be in the geek group, but in the cruel and tyrannical world of high school girls..? Alas, no amount of lip gloss or cute skirts could free you of the fact that you were smart. Not only smart, but a geek. A nerd—who was shy around most—and you got along with nearly all of the teachers because of how well-behaved and intelligent you were. And, on occasion—although you always tried your best to not come off this way—a bit of a know-it-all.

That was the final nail in your coffin, really. Correcting Carol Perkins in American History in front of everyone back in your freshman year. (Her sophomore year and already irritable about having to take a freshman course 2 years in a row). You meant well, but she had it out for you ever since. The tyrant, as it was, made it entirely impossible for you to make your way up the food chain.

So in your sophomore year of high school, back in Autumn of ‘83, you were among the peasants just like him—even as a senior (for the first time). He took a quiet interest in you. You were cute and soft-spoken. You were a sophomore, though, and the fact that you were 15 at the time made the 17 year old scrunch up his nose whenever he remembered. He could still look, though, right? There was no harm in that…

Nancy and Barb took notice of it all pretty quickly. The way that the senior would scan over your outfits everyday. The way that he might’ve smirked a little if you had to bend over to pick something up, simply staring at your behind rather than coming over to get your things for you. The pair would exchange glances that you were adorably unaware of, over his attention that you were also so endearingly oblivious to. One day, they finally burst over it in the hallway, and he overheard.

“I think a senior likes you.” Nancy teased, gripping her Geometry textbook to her chest.

“What?” You had let out a slight laugh, digging through you locker. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh my god, seriously?” Barb interjected. “Aren’t you supposed to be smart? Observant?”

You were all wide-eyed over that, pouty lips opening and then closing as you struggled to find your words before finally landing on a frustrated huff and a simple “Shut up.”

“He stares at you all the time.” Nancy pushed with a teasing smile.

“Like you can talk.” You teased, slamming your locker shut before resting your back against it. “Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington is totally all over you.” You smirked at the way her face instantly heated up.

“I- He- It’s not like that.” She insisted, completely flustered. And while Barb agreed with you, she wasn’t interested in letting you direct the conversation elsewhere.

“Besides he’s just a Junior. The guy who likes you is a Senior.” Nancy tacked on.

“Like there’s really that big of a difference?” You raised a brow.

“There is.” Barb scoffs.

“Well then if it’s such a huge deal… can’t you just tell me who it is?”

“You seriously don’t know?” Barb questioned and the ginger-brunette pair tilted their heads while they looked at you with a sort of exasperated disbelief. You just gave them that wide eyed look again and shrugged your shoulders.

Barb broke first with a scoff and a bright smile. “Eddie Munson. He stares at you all the time.”

Eddie Munson. He wasn’t popular by any means, but he was still a Senior. He was still attractive to you, and could still make an underclassmen blush if he gave them any attention simply because he was older and a little dangerous. He just didn’t show any interest in any of the other younger students, just a little curiosity towards you.

“Eddie Munson?” You had laughed a little, which made him furrow his brows as he listened in just around the corner of the hall at his own locker. You were being dismissive out of nerves, not out of any sort of malicious intent, but that’s not how he took your tone. After all, he was a cynical man.

“As if.”

After that he was a bit bitter towards you. Then he was a little mean. And then he was just plain cruel. He was an asshole. He was a bully.

Since his interest being pointed out to you, you occasionally glanced over at him to see if he really was staring. But he either acted like you didn’t exist, or whenever his gaze did meet yours the corners of his lips turned down and his brow frowned with disgust before looking elsewhere.

When Barb went missing, you and Nancy were temporarily joined at the hip in your efforts to figure out what happened. Then one day Nancy went cold on you. Started making excuses and hardly speaking to you otherwise. You didn’t understand, finding yourself completely alone as you scattered “Missing Person” posters all over Hawkins.

You had no idea what happened with Barb at the time and still had no clue what happened with your friendship with Nance to this very day. Maybe the loss was too much. Maybe Nancy couldn’t handle the reminder of your perfect trio. She was always closer to Barb than you. Maybe Barb missing and then turning up dead made it too difficult for her to face you. Maybe she was all caught up in two guys being completely obsessed with her, which admittedly made you a little jealous.

Soon enough you seemed to be completely off one another’s radars. It made high school even lonelier for you. You eventually found some new friends in other corners of the “Smart Kids” lunch table, but it was never like it was with Nancy and Barb.

So by the time he started getting a little mean, there wasn’t really anyone to protect you. Your new friends were skittish around the metalhead. Nance and Barb would’ve stood up for you once, but that support system was obliterated back in ‘83.

So when he shoved past you in the halls later in your sophomore year, no one gave it any thought. When he was pulling your hair in your Junior year then acting all innocent when you turned around to confront him, still no one cared. Now in your Senior year—and him in his third—whenever you thought he couldn’t be worse, he proved you wrong and did so with a devilish grin.

He pulled your hair. He tripped you. He stood behind you in line at lunch and would flip up the back of your skirt. He smacked your books out of your hands. He openly mocked you while leaning back in his chair at lunch with that smug look on his face. He mimicked your contributions in class under his breath, knowing you’d hear him and trip over your words. He snuck filthy messages into your locker that made your face burn with embarrassment and disgust—disgust for him and for the way his perverted words made your thighs press together. He would speed up whenever you were walking or biking home just to scare the shit out of you. He would take any opportunity to shove you or throw things at you or press his body up against yours in a derisive and vulgar manner—especially in gym class. He would “playfully” hump you from behind and nearly knock you over whenever you bent over and there was no teacher paying attention. Or spank you. Or pinch your ass.

He was horrible. Disgusting. Obnoxious. Crude. Vile. He made you go home with tears in your eyes most days, but the worst part was how much you liked the attention. You hated yourself for it. You wished you were running to the nearest adult to tell them every last thing he did to you. You wished you were standing up to him and calling him a disgusting pig in front of everyone which surely would’ve pulled out some “Ooo”s and maybe even some of the Seniors that hated him would’ve joined in. Maybe even had your back, even if it was temporary.

But you didn’t because by now when he pulled your hair, you had to refrain from whimpering or moaning. When he tripped you, you thought of the things he could do to you now you were already on your hands and knees. When he flipped up your skirt you always gasped and shoved him away, secretly hoping he’d do it again—even starting to wear only your cutest pairs of panties to school. When he smacked your books out of your hands, you actually liked that it was him causing you to bend over or get on your knees to collect your things again. When he decided to mock you from over at his spot at lunch, you got butterflies from the way he said your name and the way his dimples sunk into his cheeks. When he mimicked you in class, you tripped over your words because his voice and tangible presence got you all flustered and hot. When you got to your locker, you secretly hoped to see the torn off corner of some notebook page flutter onto the floor with the most obscene words. When he sped up to scare you, you thought about screaming something so bold at him that he would screech to a halt and reverse before telling you to get in his van, now.

You liked when he threw things at you like balled up paper to your cheek in class or a basketball to your side in gym. You liked when he shoved you or pressed against you because in his attempts to intimidate you with his touch and his proximity, it made your knees weak. You liked how he pinched your ass or gave it a little smack when you bent over and your teacher wasn’t looking. And you loved when he would thrust up against you whenever you were bent over and there was no teacher around at all, because his bulge pressed up against you (even while he was laughing devilishly) made you ache.

He was so utterly horrible to you, and yet when you found yourself grinding on your hand at night on top of your pink, white and yellow quilt—you were thinking about him and how mean he was. You were thinking about how mean he would be as he fucked you. Taunting you and teasing you and mocking you. You spasmed around your fingers and choked down your cries at the thought of him bullying your cunt.

It was all a fantasy, though. He never interacted with you longer than a few seconds, and was always with him in control. If you walked up to him and told him you wanted him to fuck you like the bully he was, he probably would’ve died laughing right before your eyes and told everyone he knew about your embarrassing lust for the guy who made your life a living hell. But now you were being cornered into spending time with him, and being faced with a real-life scenario where you were together made your palms sweat.

“I know he’s a difficult young man, but if you tutor him I’ll figure something out with the principal. Some sort of extra credit maybe.”

“There’s no one else that could tutor him?” You choked out, nerves on edge. Ms. O’Donnell gave you a sympathetic smile and shook her head.

“All busy.”

Busy, my ass you wanted to huff out. They were probably all avoiding him like the plague. O’Donnell was desperate to get his grade up and get him out of the damn school, which you didn’t blame her for, but god… why you?

“Okay…” You relented, a sad twitch for a smile when she sighed in relief and thanked you incessantly.

“I’ve already spoken to him about needing a tutor, I’ll let him know the good news, okay?”

You nodded with a meek “okay,” and tried to go on with the rest of your day as if you weren’t wracked with fear, excitement, concern over your excitement. You were on edge all day, and nearly jumped out of you seat when you were called to the office over the speakers about 5 minutes to the end of your last class. You swallowed anxiously, collecting your things and trying to ignore the “ooo”s over you being summoned to the principal’s office—assuming you were in trouble.

You trudged towards your destination, pausing when you spotted him slack in one of the chairs by the front desk that he frequented more than anyone else. You considered running in the opposite direction and making up some lie to Ms. O’Donnell the next day, but then Mrs. White beamed at you after happening to glance away from her clunky typewriter.

“Miss Y/L/N! Come on in, dear.” She spoke cheerfully in a way that went through you sideways. Eddie’s eyes shot up to you, smirking around the fingernail he was chewing at and clearly considering spitting it at you if Mrs. White hadn’t been paying attention. You toyed with the ends of your sleeves anxiously, listening to Mrs. White discuss the details Ms. O’Donnell had ready. What topics to go over (which was just about everything). How many times per week she wanted you to tutor him (at least once/week). The only thing left out was when and where.

“Oh that’s up to you two, hon.” She chirped. “Just compare your schedules.”

“It’s not in school? With a teacher around?” You questioned anxiously, but she was oblivious to your worries.

“Nope, no need for supervision. We like to give the tutors space from the teachers while they work with others, we find that the students that need help take to that better.”

“Sure do.” Eddie spoke up, and you nearly flinched at how close he sounded. You glanced over and he must’ve just gotten out of the hard plastic chair cause he was slightly leaned back to give his body a stretch causing his chest to puff out a little, his hands moving to rest by his hips as he tugged his jeans up.

“What? Scared of me ‘r somethin’?” He whispered playfully, a hand moving up to rest over his heart as he feigned offense before his act melted away to show his usual smirk. He winked at you, and you swallowed nervously as you looked back at Mrs. White again who was blissfully unaware of his malevolence.

“So here you go… those worksheets and… a time sheet.” The woman grinned as she placed the last paper on top before sliding everything over. “You just have to add the dates that you study together, and you both have to sign each time. Ms. O’Donnell said writing a quick synopsis of what you went over would be nice too, but not necessary. The most important thing is seeing a difference in Mr. Munson’s grades.”

“Sounds good to me, Pam.” Eddie smiled at Mrs. White whose sunny demeanor sunk into a more serious expression while you put the papers away neatly in one of your folders.

“What have we talked about, Mr. Munson? Use my first name again and you’ll find your butt in detention this Saturday for such disrespect. Again.”

He puts his hands up as if apologizing for his actions, but he was still grinning ear to ear. Mrs. White eyed him with a tight lipped scowl, then looked at you.

“Good luck.”

You were gonna need it.

The ride to your house in his rusty van was surprisingly quiet beyond his music. You were on edge which he enjoyed like always, but he was clearly saving the torment for when he was inside your home. You wished your parents were home, even if they were tucked away in another room, but they were both gone for the weekend to attend your Aunt’s wedding. Not that you’d let him know that.

“We’ll be studying in the dining room. And no funny business. My dad’s in his office and he doesn’t like being disturbed while he’s working.” You lied seamlessly, making your way over to the dining table, Eddie lazily sauntering along.

“Oo does daddy have a temper?” He teased in a whisper. “Gonna come out and spank you if you bother him too much?”

He gave you a mocking pout and your face scrunched up with irritation.

“Just sit so we can get this over with.”

“I’m sorry are you under the false impression that you’re in charge here, doll face?” He questioned, keeping his anger mostly disguised by his inquisitive tone.

“Well, I’m the tutor so-“ You scoff out, avoiding looking at him as you pulled all of your study materials from your bag.

“Yeah and that means something to me because…?” He drew out his last word as he spun on his heels and casually walked away.

“I- what-“ You sputtered. “What are you doing?”

“You know it’s awfully rude to have a guest and not give them a tour of the place.” He spoke casually, grabbing the ends of picture frames hanging on the walls to get a better look at them before letting them drop back again. You were hot on his heels, fixing every frame he left crooked. He paused at a picture of you from camp in a bikini with some of the friends you made that summer, smug and sucking at his teeth a little as he eyed the image of you.

“Real cute…still got it?” He looked over at you, his hair shifting over his shoulder as he eyed you. “Wanna model it for me? Make all this worth my while?”

Your cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“We have to study.”

“Eh.” He shrugs, and looks over to spot the staircase behind him. He slunk around the corner and made his way up the carpeted steps.

“Hey- hey! You’re not allowed up there!” You shout after him, rushing to follow after him. He was already on the second floor when he turned and shushed you.

“Don’t wanna make daddy angry, right? He’s hard at work if I’m remembering correctly.” He whispered with a joking concern for your father’s focus who wasn’t even here, and you worried he knew that. He continued on along the hallway and you stayed behind him, wishing there was something you could do to get him to stop. He opened doors along the way, inspecting the interior with a mild curiosity. The upstairs bathroom. Your parent’s room. The spare bedroom. Then-

“Ah, here we are.” Your bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Please get out of my room.” You pleaded, but he continued on his quest. He looked at the makeup on your vanity, toppling some of the products over like a careless cat before moving on. He toyed with any photos in your room, sniffed at the perfume bottles on your dresser.

“Eddie-“ You started, clenching your jaw as he found the perfume you wore the most often and sprayed some of it on the crotch of his jeans. Then he just kept a hold on it as he waltzed around your room, spraying it several times just to waste your favorite product.

“That’s rude.” You spoke up, your lips pouting slightly. He snickered at your comment, how you sounded like a wronged child.

“Aw well if you need to touch up your perfume at all, you know where to get it.” He grinned, pointing to his groin before continuing to go through your things. The concept was strange but still made you clench simply from the thought of having to rub at his bulge to get something you wanted. He didn’t waste that much of your fragrance, but the idea was still burning in your mind.

He muttered disapproving comments at the posters on your walls and the cassettes he rummaged through until he got bored. You were nervous about interfering even as he invaded your privacy, until he was opening your top drawer to go through your panties and bras.

“Hey! That’s too far!” You gasp, rushing over to slam the drawer closed again. He shoved you back and opened it again.

“Quit being so fucking uptight.”

“Quit going through things that don’t belong to you!” You talked back which was still surprising him every time you did, but certainly didn’t let it show.

“Yeah well quit pissing me off before I put you in your fucking place.” He seethes, giving you an angry warning look that felt like fire all over you. You wanted to cry, to tell him to stop being so mean to you, but it would be useless. You’d just end up feeling pathetic as he laughed over your misery. You just had to stand there and watch as he kept going through your underwear drawer.

“Ooh, cute. I don’t think I’ve seen these yet.” He clicked his tongue and blew out an impressed breath as he held up a black lacy number. “‘d love to leave some stains on these for you, doll face.”

“You’re disgusting.” You blurt out, but the thought of his cum spurting onto your new pair of panties made you feel warm. He smirked at your frustration, tucking the underwear into his pocket.

“Those are new!”

He shrugs, shoving the drawer closed again with enough careless force to knock over a picture frame perched on top. He doesn’t seem to care until he’s spinning around with his finger pointed at you and that wicked look on his face.

“You know what, though? You bring up a great point.” He tugs the lace from his pocket and holds it up to his nose before letting out a disappointed sigh. “Now that’s a problem. Still smell like whatever cutesy store you got ‘em from.”

You have a moment of hope that he’s trying to be nice and provide an opportunity to give them back to you, even if he’s going about it in a dirty way. But that doesn’t last long, even when he’s tossing them back to you.

“Why don’t you put ‘m on for me, huh? Then when you give ‘em to me on my way out I’ll have proof of how fucking wet I get you.” He spoke so smoothly as he got closer to you, that it almost blanketed the filth of his words as something soft or even sweet.

“As if.” You scoff out in a huff, and there’s a fury to his gaze that you don’t understand.

“Yeah… as if.” He murmurs darkly, getting closer to you. You swallow nervously and take a step back. “Cause fuck me, right? I’m just some good-for-nothing asshole who you wouldn’t give the time of day. Not a priss like you.”

“I-I’m not a-“

“Oh dad!” He’s suddenly shouting at the top of his lungs in a sing-song manner, his body whipped around to face your doorway, and your eyes go wide.

“Stop-“

“Hey! I just wanna meet Mr. Y/L/N! Spending time with your lovely daughter!” He spoke with a passionate respect that you knew was coming from a hateful place. He had gone to your doorframe and was listening for any kind of response. A verbal acknowledgement. The sound of steps or creaking floorboards to tell him there was actually going to be someone to confront him.

His grin became devious as he went to the steps again. “Hello?” He calls, dragging out that last vowel.

“Will you quit it!” You hiss, tears prickling at your eyes now at the thought of him realizing you were all alone. Just you and him. And that you had lied to him.

He was turning around, sure now that the only people in this house were you and him. His dimples were pushing into his cheeks again as he sucked at his teeth, approaching you at the doorway to your bedroom like a cocky killer. The kind that you saw in horror movies that knew they had their prey cornered and could have some fun with it.

Out of nerves and a need to keep a barrier between the two of you, you took a quick step back and went to slam your door shut so you could lock it, but he got there in time to stop in with an outstretched arm. He pushed it open so harshly that you were sure there would be a dent in your wall where the doorknob was forced into it.

God, you couldn’t stand the way he looked right now. So proud. So smug. That shit-eating grin that told you he knew he was winning. That fury from before still lingering. He noticed the gloss to your eyes and tuts as a mocking pout reaches his lips.

“Upset about somethin’, doll? Someone got you all worked up?”

You huff out your nose, your lips screwed into a frown and your eyes still stinging with unshed tears.

“You’re so… so… mean! I hate you!” You shout, and without even realizing it you had stomped your foot at your last statement. It makes him pause, his expression unreadable for a moment as he considers everything until it all lands on amusement. He crosses his arms over his chest, grin wild and his hair flowing with him as he tilts his head with intrigue.

“Did you just stomp your foot at me, princess?” He teases, and your face feels so hot you wonder if he can see the flush of pink even through your foundation. He can. You refuse to answer him, fighting back the urge to fully cry in front of him. He’s getting closer though until he’s brushing up against you and looking down at you. God, he’s so warm.

“Aw… such a sensitive girl. Look at you.” He murmurs as he continues backing you two up until you’re pressed against the wall, one of those posters he disapproved of crinkling against your hair. He’s making fun of you like always but there’s a softness around the edges of his words. Blurred by a desire to do just about anything to you. He reaches his hand up to drag the pad of his thumb over your pouty lower lip before bringing his hand down to grasp you by your chin.

“Bet your pussy’s just as responsive as the rest of ya, huh?” He whispers as he makes you look up at him. Your nostrils flare momentarily and you keep looking up at him but you still won’t speak and you still won’t let those tears fall.

“I bet your cunt is just as weepy. All hot and wet when I’m fucking you into shape.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to refrain from whimpering or letting your lips part for a soft sigh. Anything that would confirm how badly you want him to figure out just how right he is. But then his anger flares back up as he’s gripping your jaw now, squeezing just enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Speak when you’re spoken to.” He demands in a low voice with a sort of growl to it that makes your knees weak. You part your lips as you consider answering him like you’re told, and he raises his brows while waiting. Then, in a brazen defiance, you spit in his face instead.

He’s so solid it’s almost like he doesn’t care. Not a flinch or a crack in his demeanor. Then he’s moving his hand from your jaw to your throat and gripping onto it enough that you gasp.

“I’ve been spat on my whole fucking life, you think that’s gonna make a difference here, princess? Think that’s gonna make me respect you? Think you’re brave?”

Your hands reach up to rest over his on your neck, a mewl vibrating from the back of your throat. He leans in closer to your face, your lips parting wider as he tightens his grip.

“It just makes me think you’re stupid.” He finishes before spitting directly into your open mouth. He’s releasing you from his grip right after, wiping your saliva from his cheek while you catch your breath. A soft moan escapes you before you can keep it at bay and his inflated ego is tangible. He’s eyeing you with a sort of amazed intrigue that pulls him back to you, his arms lifting to place his hands on the wall on either side of your head.

“You like it, don’t you?” He laughs and you shake your head furiously, but he isn’t buying it. “You could’ve gotten my ass suspended—hell, even expelled—ages ago. And yet…?”

“I just felt bad that you’re such a fucking idiot.“

“Dirty girl.” He hisses inward through his teeth as if burned by your words, but you were just egging him on.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” He wondered in a soft tone, hand back to your jaw as you stayed quiet. “Will you kiss daddy with that mouth?” He added with a lazy grin, exuding dominance and arrogance.

You became a little slack jawed at the implication, and he was on you. Hand still on your jaw, he pressed his lips to yours. You feigned protest at first with a few kicks and smacks, but then he had your wrists pinned against the wall and you sunk into the kiss. He kept you pinned for a few moments, until he was sure you were relaxed. He dropped his hands down to completely engulf your waist in his arms, and keep you pressed against him. The kiss was filthy with anger-fueled lust and slips of moans on your end and grunts from his.

“I hate you.” You whispered in between kisses, his hands moving to grip your ass now.

“Yeah you do.” He chuckled proudly against your lips before beginning to trail his lips down your jaw to your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed, hands settled on his muscular back as he sucked and bit at your neck, messy hair tickling you. More sounds slipped from you with no attempt to hold them back, a teary whimper hanging on your lips after he bit down on your neck hard enough to pull a yelp from you.

“Gonna mark you all up…” He muttered against your skin, making your head swirl.

“Gonna have you walking into school and have everyone know who you belong to.” He pulled back now, breathless and his full lips all pink with attention. His eyes were dark with lust, and it all made you whimper. The sound made him laugh in disbelief.

“Yeah? Such a slut. Bet you can’t wait to walk in with my hickeys all over you. Might even fuck you in the back of my van beforehand. Make you go to class full of my cum.”

You almost can’t believe him or yourself as you nod your head dumbly with a desperate pout. He groans at the sight and pulls you to him again, his lips back on yours as his hands reach down to hook under your thighs and lift you up. You’re quick to wrap your legs around his waist, a soft cry escaping when he starts grinding against you. He’s so hard and feels so pressed into his jeans, you’re both afraid and alight at the thought of just how big he probably is.

Eddie made his way over towards your bed until his legs made contact with your bed frame. He pulled away from the kiss to drop you on the bed carelessly. You lifted your torso up by digging your elbows back into your mattress, legs bent up at the knee and parted for him while you watched him undo his belt. He noticed you staring, and his gaze traveled along your form. Your knit sweater. Your pleated skirt.

“Take that shit off.” He said with a slight jut of his chin in the direction of your top, hands paused at the waist of his jeans and boxers. You hesitated at first, mostly at his hesitation to pull down his bottoms, but also out of nerves that your body wouldn’t be good enough. He made fun of you for just about everything. Surely he would tease you for that too.

“Did I fucking stutter?” His voice rose just a touch, his expression showing his impatience. At that your eyes went a bit wide again, and you lifted your sweater over your head and then the t-shirt you had on underneath. His hand was under his undone jeans, palming himself through his boxers as he looked over your naked torso.

“Bra too.” He murmured, and your nerves subsided from the way he looked at you. It was all hunger and lust and some impatience, but that was common. But no mockery. He wasn’t gearing up to make fun of your body cause he’s been waiting to see it. It was even better than he imagined, and he stopped a groan in his throat when you unclasped your bra and put it off to the side.

“Fuck…” He sighed out, squeezing his hard cock in his fist. You arched your back, which he initially enjoyed, until he realized your hand was moving to unzip the back of your skirt.

“Hey.” His harsh tone broke through, his free hand slapping your thigh. “Did I say take the skirt off?”

Your lips parted, and he jerked his head forward with a wide, frustrated gaze. It was as if he was saying “Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

He rolled his eyes as you shook your head no, and moved your hands away. He muttered under his breath and settled himself between your legs before deciding you weren’t close enough. His hands grasped your thighs to pull you closer, a surprised giggle bubbling in your chest from the action. He didn’t acknowledge it because he was trying to not let it show that it made him want to smirk. Just like when you get all teary-eyed. Or stomp your feet. Or finally get enough nerve to talk back. Even getting a giggle out of you made him smug, despite the fact that he had only ever seemed to enjoy making you miserable.

Eddie flips your skirt up onto your stomach, licking his lips at the sight of the light blue cotton panties he had already seen in the lunch line today. He finally tugged his jeans and boxers down below his balls, and started pumping his dick in his hand. Your nerves lit up at the sight of it—thick and with a bit of a curve to it. You wanted to see more of him, but the likelihood of that was slim to none. He enjoyed the control he had in this relationship, and that meant he liked having you almost completely naked in front of him while he was practically still dressed. He smirked as pre-cum beaded up on his tip and let it drip onto the fabric of your underwear. He dipped down to drag his tip along your covered slit to make a mess of your panties with his pre-cum. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting the inside of your lip whenever he nudged your clit.

“I like these panties…” You complained, knowing how much better it would be for him to ruin a pair of underwear you love.

“Aw…” He tutted, leaning over you as he mimicked the pout on your lips. “Don’t tell me that cause then I might have to cum all over them. ‘N I thought you wanted it inside.”

You mewled again, nodding your head which he mimicked too. The little shake of your head, the sound you made.

“Such a whiny, needy girl.” He said as if he cared. He hooked a finger under your panties and tugged at them, fighting the fabric over your legs one handed before holding them up to his nose. His eyes were trained on the sight of your sopping pussy as he breathed in, his cock twitching in his fist. He cursed under his breath, only pulling the fisted cloth away to stuff into his back pocket. His now free hand moved forward to drag his fingers through your slit, proud to feel how soaked and puffy you were already.

“You a virgin, doll?” He purred, tilting his head with a sickeningly sweet grin, the curled corners of his lips devilish. It was saccharine and mean. He figured you’d say yes because no one at school seemed to want you, but then you shook your head.

You lost your virginity at that summer camp you were at in the picture he was ogling earlier. It was awkward and felt strange, and you didn’t have much experience beyond that, but you weren’t a virgin. You thought he’d like you better this way anyways, already ready for him to fuck, but it ticked him off.

“No?” He asked, pushing two thick fingers into your cunt and making you gasp. The pressure on that sweet spot right at your entrance was buzzing with pleasure, but it still ached a little. “Guess you’re the little slut I always thought you were, hm?”

He was pushing his fingers in deep and curling them up into that spongy spot that made you whine and your thighs tremble.

“Who is he?” Eddie urged, his expression back to the irritation you were familiar with. You weren’t answering, all of your focus on his thick fingers and the rings that adorned them pinching the edge of your entrance.

“Who. Is. He?” He repeated, moving his face a bit closer to yours in bursts with every word, his head tilting to the left then to the right then back to the left to punctuate his words. He was slowing it down for you like you were dumb, and his fingers stopped moving—all of this making you huff.

“No one-“ You whine hopelessly, and he was starting to pull his hand away but you shot yours out to grip his wrist and keep his fingers deep between your legs. “No one, no one important.” You continued. “It was at summer camp, he’s not even from here. Please-“ you nearly sobbed, and it was enough to make the man groan as he leaned over you.

“Oh… please what, doll face?” He murmured, hand that had just been wrapped around his dick sinking the mattress down beside your head.

“Please- please don’t stop.” You whimper softly and he smiles sweetly down at you while pulling his hand away anyways. It was just for a second, enough to make you want to cry, but then he was plunging them back into your fluttering hole again. He added a third finger, barely giving you even enough time to enjoy the first two, the stretch making your lips part a little.

“God, you’re desperate.” He snorted, his hand angling a bit differently to let his thumb catch your clit. He watched with pride as your head tilted back and your back arched. Your thighs kept twitching and your walls were clamping down around his fingers more and more—he could tell you were close.

“Eddie…” You drawled, breath catching as your body braced itself for the mind-altering pleasure of your orgasm, but just as you approached the top—he pulled his hand away. You let out a distressed cry that made him laugh. He cooed at you, his hand that had been pumping his cock moving to rest on your cheek. Knowing where it had been made it even better, made it filthier. It made you wonder how many times he had just touched his dick before touching you.

“That’s for letting some random loser fuck you.” He whispered after leaning down so close that his nose was occasionally brushing against yours.

“‘m sorry…” You whine, tears of pleasure and pain having already slid down from your eyes and back towards your ears—leaving your hair damp and cold.

“You’re sorry, what?” He urged, nudging his tip against your folds.

“I’m sorry I let someone else take my virginity.” You were a blubbering mess, teary-eyed and needy.

“You’re gonna make up for it, though, right?” He purred, his tip already pressing into you and you nodded enthusiastically with a cry, your hips twitching forward.

“That’s my girl.”

Your lips parted, your lower lip quivering when he pushed into you until his hips were flush with your ass. You let out a sort of choked whimper and he groaned.

“Fuck you’re tight…” He sighed with content, sliding back before sinking back in until his tip was kissing your cervix. “Not even a virgin and I’m still gonna have to work to split this cunt open, huh?”

He was grinning again over that, over the grip your walls had on him from such a foreign stretch. It ached in the best way possible except for the occasional thrust that pinched and made you yelp out a small “ow.”

“S-so big… you’re so big…” You babble, your mind fuzzy. Your pupils were all blown out and you watched him fuck into you like it was the best dream you ever had. You eventually tilt your head back, letting out a happy hum as your hips push outward to feel him as deeply and as harshly as possible. He mimicked the sounds you made and the expressions you made from his thick cock hitting all the right places and stretching you enough that you knew you were going to be sore. All day tomorrow you were going to get brief pangs of aching that would remind you of how full you were of Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He was all you could focus on, and you didn’t even realize you had been whimpering his name over and over under your breath until he made fun of you for it.

“Fuck you.” You huffed defensively, only for his amusement to bolster.

“Ha!” He cackled right in your face as you looked up at him with glossy eyes, pink cheeks and pouty lips. “Already are, sweetheart.”

Soon enough your sounds annoyed him though, especially the more demanding they got. Harder. Faster. Slower. More. Please. So he flipped you over onto your stomach and had his hand on your head to press your cheek into the mattress as he mounted you again—all with a casual “God, just shut up.”

At this new angle he was driving into you with a force that reverberated throughout your whole body every time he slammed into your cervix or that gushy part of you. You felt dizzy and breathless, every stroke of his cock against your ridged walls shooting off sparks. After being so close just from his hand to now, you were steadily approaching an orgasm again—just praying he’d let you keep it this time. He must’ve noticed because his free hand was reaching down to rub your clit. Your eyelids fluttered, a sob being muffled by the comforter you were biting down on. The sound of skin smacking, the tired springs of your bed squeaking, Eddie’s panting and grunting, the chain of his wallet clinking every now and then, the wet and pornographic sound of his cock plunging in and out of your pussy—it all seemed so loud for a second and then felt muffled the next as you came undone around him. You moaned out his name, whimpering cries on the tail end. You could feel your walls fluttering around him, clamping down and then blossoming back open then clamping down again in a mind-swirling rhythm.

“That’s a good girl…” He purred in a way that might’ve been too sweet from him if it wasn’t laced with a condescending tone. “Gonna cum in you, ‘kay?”

“Uh-huh-“ You moan, body aching as he picks up the pace again, fingers tangled in your hair with a painful grip. You can’t see him, but his head is tilted back completely blissed out as he fucks into you. You felt amazing, even better than he imagined which was pretty damn astonishing considering the pedestal he already had your pussy on in his imagination. He was so close, and a brief thought of getting you pregnant nearly sent him over the edge. He was mean. So fucking mean. That was the most devious thing he could do. Fill you up and make you all round with his kid.

“Shit-“ He pants out. “Gonna fill you up, babe.”

“Please-“ You beg, pulling an incredulous chuckle from him.

“Such a good girl… always take everything I give her.” He breathes out, leaning down to trap your body between him and your bed, his hand moving your hair away from your face. “Takes everything I give her at school, and she’s gonna take everything I give her in her bed, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, please-“ You sob, gasping out with the next few sharp thrusts against you until there was this warm feeling blooming inside you as he groaned against your back. He gave a few more thrusts after cumming inside, letting out happy puffs of air. You remembered how content that guy was when he unloaded into his condom inside you in camp. That blissful look on his face before he pecked your lips then lied next to you. Eddie didn’t bother with a condom, didn’t press a little peck to your lips and he wasn’t so quick to pull out either. When you squirmed a little he shifted so he was pushed up deeper into you, pulling a gasp from you which made him smirk against your skin.

Eventually he leaned up to bite your shoulder and then he slid out of you. You were still a little out of it, purring out a whiny hum as you nuzzled your quilt. Your legs were still spread and slightly bent up while you laid there on your stomach, and as he adjusted his softening dick back into his boxers he saw his cum slowly started to seep out of you and onto your comforter. Ever the gentleman, once his pants were zipped back up and his belt was buckled he landed his palm on your ass cheek and turned you over as you huffed over the action.

“See you Monday.”

“But we… we have to…” You fought to find your words through the haze. Study. You had to study.

“Bye, doll face!” He called out as he made his way downstairs.

You pouted a little, wanting to beg him to come back and stay with you. Maybe even go another round, but you were so spent that you just laid there.

When you got your energy back enough to force you to get up, you went to pee and clean yourself up before heading downstairs. Unsure of what to do with yourself, you made your way over to your backpack and you spotted the writing on the time sheet. A smile tugged at your lips. Instead of the date he wrote his phone number, and for the synopsis of today’s tutoring session he wrote “sex ed” with a winky face, and then signed where he was supposed to.

God, you were so fucked. And you were going to need a new time sheet.

#eddie munson smut #mean!eddie munson #bully!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things smut

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orchidyoonkook · 6 months

Text

The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

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kissforyouu · 18 days

Text

forgive me now?

pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc

genre : fluff , slight angst

warnings : arguing , mentions of sexual activities

a/n : FINALLY an update. 😓😓 unedited btw

this is a continuation from my previous text au btw!

you stand awkwardly in your friend's yard, clutching onto your little pink suitcase. your boyfriend said he would pick you up and that there was no need for you to call a cab home. usually, this would've been fine. much much much better than the cab even. but not now. the small argument you had with jungkook last night would definitely make things a little awkward between you guys. it was always like that. silent treatment until one of you gets impatient. that's usually jungkook. and it will be jungkook this time as well.

you kick some rocks on the ground while mina tells you and jihyo about some video games she's been playing. you mindlessly nod, not paying any attention to what she's really saying. you feel bad, but you're just not in the mood right now.

all you could think about was the argument. you were aware from the beginning about how overprotective jungkook actually was. you didn't mind it. not one bit. in addition to that, you always felt an underlying effect from whatever he did. it was arousing to say the least. but anyway. he called you a bitch. much worse, noh? how could he.

your eyes dart to the direction of the horn of the car you're so familiar with, emitting a soft sigh along the way. jungkook pulls up in his mercedes benz sl 63 amg, rolling down those expensive ass windows to look at you. he gets out of the car and tries to make an effort to carry your luggage but you don't let him, giving him the cold shoulder. jungkook grits his teeth, eyes scanning your figure up and down as you set your luggage in the back of his car then hug your girls goodbye.

once you were done with your goodbyes and back in front of his car, he tries to open the door for you but you ignore him once again, proceeding to open the backseat's door. you never did that. you were always his passenger princess. always.

the thought that he may have actually fucked up clouds your boyfriend's mind. jungkook closes the door with a thud, clearly frustrated. your friends weren't a helping hand either. instead, they were giving him mean glares. they never liked jungkook much. i mean, to a certain extent they did. but it wasn't enough.

the tall man sighs, his upper body fully turned to face you in the backseat. you weren't paying him any attention and instead, face buried in your phone when it should be in between his pecs, giving him the fattest hug ever while saying you missed him. but nah. eh, he really did fuck up.

jungkook glances at your friends a last time, the scowl on their faces never leaving. he scoffs, starting the engine of the car and beginning to drive out of your friends' sight.

jungkook looks at your reflection through the mirror, while doing that thing again. poking his cheek with his tongue. hot. you try your best not to look.

"you're so dramatic. talk to me."

suddenly, you break out of your stoic expression, jaw opening a little as you stared at your boyfriend in disbelief.

"me? jungkook, look at yourself! you said you would track down my phone to find my location if i didn't answer!"

"and you know damn well i would."

"i— well, that isn't the point here! the point is—"

"honey, we're past that, don't you think? just forget it." he grunts, completely discarding my opinion.

"no. calling me a bitch was too far. you don't get to disrespect me like that. who do you think you are?"

jungkook pauses for a few seconds, taking his time to think of what to reply with. he got silenced, for sure. then he sighs again, opening his mouth to speak again. no. ugh, fuck. you hate when he's like this. why is he acting like he's...tolerating you?

"get on the front." jungkook clicks his tongue, patting the empty passenger seat.

you so clearly refuse, stomping your heal on the carpet of the car as a sign of rejection. jungkook doesn't have any of that, immediately parking the car on the edge of the road. he gets out of his car and walks to the other side of the car, now in front of you. jungkook opens your door and pats his thigh—another signal for you to get on the front. you refuse again though, looking somewhere else.

"brat." he mumbles under his breathe. your boyfriend grabs your arm and pulls your body upwards. you wince a little, finding his touch a little too harsh.

"wait, shit, sorry." his thumb lightly brushes over the spot where he grabbed you gently, then sweetly giving it a few kisses after.

"get on the front seat, baby." his tone was sweet this time, like honey. he was speaking to you as if you were a flower who could get destroyed even from the slightest breeze.

and you just couldn't refuse. you listen to him this time instead of being whatever he calls you, a "brat". you sit on the passenger seat, crossing your legs over one another. but you still weren't looking at him. attitude much, huh?

jungkook groans at your behaviour. he loved it though. found it rather hot although sometimes it was a little too hard to deal with.

he suddenly grabs your jaw, his touch gentle but strong, tightly gripping your face but enough to not hurt you. he has your face turned to his side, forcing you to look at him.

"look at me at least."

you stay silent. your eyes drop down to his lap, legs spread and meaty thighs flexing.

"y/n."

one small look at his face, you break down to a whine. you pucker your lips into a pout, squeezing your eyes shut in irritation.

"i'm really sorry, my love. i admit that it was very wrong and inappropriate of me. i won't say that again, hm? i'll do whatever you want. just please talk to me."

"apologising isn't going to work."

"fine. i'll take you anywhere, buy whatever you want. hell, i'd buy you the entire world, you know that?"

your lips tremble and you grunt, "stop thinking that buying me everything would fix every single problem! it won't! why are you so good at finding solutions for every single problem that includes everything BUT yourself?! it's so frustrating, jungkook! yesterday, you could've literally just called me!—"

"you didn't answer! i called you so many fucking times, noh? did you answer once? nah."

"THAT doesn't matter! it was just...like, one day, jungkook!"

"yeah, and? who knows what would've happened? i was thinking of every single possibility. did you get killed or something? had me fucking stressing for nothing." jungkook rolls his eyes, rubbing his temple.

"it was for just one day! calm down!"

"no! didn't even tell me where the fuck you were going. had to drive upto your fucking house to find out."

you pause for a second, taking a deep breath, gritting your teeth, "jungkook. stop swearing at me."

jungkook scoffs, accepting it either way with a nod.

"let's stop arguing. hate fighting with you, y'know? let's go home, y/n. this is stupid."

"you're stupid!" you fight back.

"stop acting like a kid, damn. i said sorry. we're going home."

jungkook doesn't let you continue as he turns around and sits comfortably on his seat again, eyes facing the front.

"your house or my house?"

"your house." your voice came out in a small squeek.

a few minutes pass by, jungkook managed to sneak his hand up your thigh to grope the flesh. you let him. it was one of his silly habits. each time you're in the car with him, jungkook would either hold your hand or grope your thighs. and when you questioned it, he'd say "for emotional support." what emotional support? you always found it funny. but cute though. sometimes, he'd get sneaky and slowly slide his hand downwards, little by little, and end up cupping your pussy. that itself was enough to make you go crazy. he'd start by slowly rubbing your clit through your panties, then sneakily make his way inside :) .

by now, you both had reached his house. jungkook parked his car in his garage and entered his room, who was laying on his comfy ass bed that was big enough for 5 people.

he lays down with you, big arms engulfing your smaller body. you let him, you're past the argument now. jungkook snuggles into your body, cheek smushed against your breast. his body temperature was hot, warming you up instantly.

"we good now?"

"mhm."

"talk more, baby. i want to hear you. what did you do yesterday? ate well?"

your face melts down at your boyfriend's words. cute man. cuuuuteeee. myy man. how could you ever hate him? :< . you spent the rest of the cuddling and jungkook trying to make it upto you. he gave you foot massages, back massages, made you food, watched your favourite show with you (which you've made him rewatch about 10 times already), ate you out good, ran you a bath, another foot massage, online shopped with you which resulted in him buying you goodies worth 500$ and more, head massage, fucked you good, rubbed your body to sleep and so on 😊.

maybe arguing isn't THAT bad after all.

taglist :

@fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #bts jk #bts smut #jungkook smut #smut #sanrio girl #sanrio #cute

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kithtaehyung · 7 months

Text

mami (m) | myg/knj

title: mami (m) pairing: myg x reader(f) , knj x reader(f) , slight jhs x reader(f)😛 rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au summary: you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date. note: heavy 00s vibes, this is just the beginning of a collection of parts instead of just a oneshot let’s fucking goooo🦋 note 2: this is pretty unedited lolll if there are mistakes i'm so so sorry! warnings for this part: language, choking, joon in sweats, bathroom s*x, b*ckshots, friendly sp*nks from your roomie🤪, it uhhh starts right out the gate lmfao, hobi in silk and a robe, yoongi is a warning in his own right, light sl*pping, you get called mamiii😗 so if that’s not ur thing i’d skip this series !!, joon is too smooth, a secret fourth guy lmfaoooo, battle rap scenarios! drop date: september 26th, 2023, 10:07pm est word count: 3.7k mood: here

“You like that, huh?”

Breath short, you can only gasp as the hands you’ve been eyeing all night clutch your throat, a fiendish hum the first response to your satisfied grin.

“Knew you would.” As your delicious captor speaks, you just know he’s fixated on your makeup—at least, the way it’s smearing onto a bathroom mirror that has seen better days. “You all do.”

Fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Fucking hell, he always knows.

Your lust condenses and slides down the glass in rivers, and with each experienced thrust inside your folds, it’s getting harder, and harder, and harder to see the man wrecking your shit.

But it’s coming. The end. The coil inside you is screaming and tightening and you know he can feel every potent pulse as you slap the tiny counter with a palm. “Yoongi—”

“You gonna come, mami?”

Yes yes yes you really fucking are. It’s so truthful that you can’t even voice your agreement in words, your moans higher and higher in pitch the only tell you can possibly give.

“Then fucking do it.”

Light bounces from your eyes and rebounds off the mirror the same time your whine does, every limb locking while bare shoulders bang against your reflection.

“Fuck.”

You spring right into the ground floor above, eyes rolling so far back you could probably see the way Yoongi’s smirking at your ass if your dumbfounded mush of a brain wasn’t in the way.

Again, and again, you milk his cock for all it’s worth, spurning him into gripping your bouncing hips with rough hands and faster strokes. Laughs and conversations seep through the door at your side, but you can’t make out a thing as you garble,

“Yoongi, please—”

“One more.”

“I can’t—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he tuts. “You won’t hustle me a second time.”

Busted.

Your pout quickly stretches into a devilish curve instead, and you hear his sound of approval before you brag,

“I spent all that already, by the way.”

Air whizzes past your ears as you’re hoisted upwards, and your mirth reverberates as you’re spun and shoved into the sink, cheap laminate bruising your back.

Yoongi must also be remembering the time your pussy sucked the soul out of him. After you both made a bet that you couldn’t beat someone’s record time making him come.

You won half of his prize money that night.

And that was the night he won the entire thing.

“You’re lucky I respect it,” he snarls, sweaty fingers gripping your chin as he slings a leg over his pelvis. When he grins, you wanna lick the white off his teeth. “And you’re lucky I made it back the next night.”

Oh, shit. Did he really?

Battle rap events usually stack so that everyone gets a chance. How did he get invited back the same weekend?

Well, other than being a monster on the mic. There’s a reason you can’t stay away from him, and you may or may not admit you get turned on by how effortlessly ruthless he is.

Lips smushed, you ask with genuine curiosity, “You won again?”

Yoongi lightly smacks your cheek, chuckling when you grit out a moan. “Nah. The sponsors loved me,” he claims, finally bringing a hand down to guide himself back inside. “So they paid me to come back.”

“Sick,” you praise through a grunt, fully catching his eyes for the first time tonight. Pushing past the way he fills you so fantastically, you huff out, “That doesn’t happen on south side.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, apparently west and east side do it a lot. Especially with that guy Randa—”

“Fuck Randa.”

Ah, so Yoongi knows him? You haven’t ventured into the west scene yet, but the one thing you know about it is that dude’s name.

So he must be a beast.

Especially if Gloss himself had some choice words.

At this little slip of emotion, you don’t hide your smirk at all. “Oh? Maybe I will if that’s how you feel.”

The sudden possessive shove of his cock into your folds is delightful, your high giggle pinging off the bathroom walls.

“Fuck whoever you want, princess,” he chides right against your lips. “You’ll always come back to me.”

“Duh.” You flick your tongue over his plush. “You wouldn’t last a week without me anyway.”

Yoongi pushes into you again, stare heavy and coaxing butterflies from your belly. “I’d manage.”

“As if.”

But even through the pleasure, you still wonder. How are you both having a regular conversation right now? This never happens with him. You’ve wanted it to, but there simply hasn’t been any talk when he’s involved.

The high from your orgasm compounds with this strange feeling that you turn a little playful.

“What I meant was…” Fingernail poking his tank, you joke with a sly curve, “Guess you must be like, good or whatever.”

When he looks down, you childishly swoop your finger up to bump his nose. “Ha. Loser.”

Predictably, Yoongi pauses before only his eyes raise, suppressed emotions hiding behind long dark strands. “Really.”

And even though you felt him twitch in your core, you’ll spare him. “I don’t make the rules.”

You think this is when he’ll start ramming into you again, because none of the times you’ve hooked up ever lasted this long. It’s always been quick with him, and never in any other place other than bathrooms or broom closets.

Which isn’t bad. Just a pattern you’ve noticed.

But Yoongi huffs in amusement before shaking his head. “Since when were you this weird?”

“Wow, rude?” Your scoff is full of mock annoyance. “I’ve always been this way.”

It’s just that no one’s taken the time to get to know you.

“But you’re so…”

All they care about is one thing.

Which, granted, is the same in your case.

It just gets a bit lonely sometimes.

Offering to finish for him to stiff arm any more incoming awkwardness, you blurt, “Hot? Slutty?”

“Fast.”

Oh.

Did you both just assume the other person wanted it over and done with?

That’s entirely possible considering the first time it happened lasted a grand total of three minutes. Max.

“I mean…” You lean back on your palms, not caring to adjust your very mussed top because your chest finally snags all of Yoongi’s attention. How he’s still hard inside of you is a complete mystery. “I don’t just fuck, you know.”

“And here I thought we were similar,” he teases, groaning through his teeth when you roll on his dick. Again.

And again.

Of course you’re both similar. The only difference is that people dub this guy a sex god and you’re an easy lay.

But you won’t get into that with him. Not now and probably not ever since you don’t dare even label Yoongi a friend.

Panting, you observe him watching your movements as you switch the subject, “You fucked that one sponsor chick for the invite, huh.”

And he takes the out hilariously quick,

“Both of them.”

Of course. Your head kicks back in laughter, remembering that there were two people running the event instead of one.

Truthfully, you would’ve paid to see that.

“Can’t stand you,” you lie, the way you chuckle as he slaps one of your tits saying otherwise.

“Good.”

As he rubs a rough thumb over a nipple, an announcement blares over deejay scratches and cheers, tugging both of your eyes to the door.

Before things quickly devolve into how they always go.

When you arch forward, his lips devour your breast; when you rock your hips into his, the groans against your chest make you feel alive.

Your nails claw through his hair before you can’t decide if you wanna rake them through his shoulders or his neck. Here, there, everywhere you can grab, you take hold.

Suddenly, Yoongi clutches the top of your skirt before thrusting in hard, and his laugh when you whine out a curse strikes your soul. “It’s better that way.”

It’s always better that way.

“Agreed,” you murmur, eyes flickering to the janky ceiling before sighing out, “I think they just said your name.”

“Mm.”

He plunges into you so hard you see his impish curve imprinted among the stars.

“Then hurry up, mami. Gimme one more for luck.”

MAMI

“Who’s on the menu tonight?”

You hum while peering into your mirror—a much cleaner, brighter mirror than the one you were pressed against a couple weeks ago. “That nice guy I’ve been seeing at the gym.”

“Wait, what? Are you going on a date date?”

“Hobi,” you giggle, loving your roommate very much despite the way he just forgets sometimes. “We went through this already.”

“So… Is that a yes, or.” His laugh blurts out when you throw a middle finger next to your head. “Okay, okay! You can just say it, you know.”

“I just”—you spot check your makeup before vacating your vanity stool—“You know me. I never do dates.”

As Hobi leans back on your bed, the way his hot pink robe matches your comforter makes you highly amused. Almost amused enough that you don’t react to his nosy question,

“Nervous?”

Extremely.

“Uhm,” you start, all pretenses dropping at the sight of his cocked brow. “A bit.”

Springing up, your roommate pads over and rests thin palms over even thinner straps of your sundress.

“What’s got you nervous, love?”

Pouting, you look out your window before your chin is gently swiveled back forward. Thankful for his insistence, you confess to the only guy that you feel like you can trust,

“What if I like him?”

The laugh you get is full of disbelief and pity. “That’s what you’re worried about? Really?”

When you nod, he chuckles again, but it’s smaller. And more understanding than the first.

“Pathetic, right.”

“No, no no,” Hobi starts, sliding his hands down to warm your biceps before squeezing. When he pauses, his expression gives his thoughts away before he can utter them. “Well, a little.”

“Hoseok.”

“But! Only because you’re making it seem that way.” He squeezes again before sitting back down on your bed. “If you just let things happen without thinking, isn’t that better?”

Does he really have to flop down to rest his head on his palms? Now?

Talk about not thinking.

Whatever. You didn’t expect Hoseok to do that, but he looks hot, so you’ll let it slide.

And you don’t shy away from his silk-covered package before retorting, “Says you.”

“Me? I overthink. That’s different.”

“How!”

“Don’t think about it.”

When he winks, you both laugh, and his grin slowly devolves into a smirk before he motions you over with a mere head cock.

And you gladly oblige.

Because your dynamic with Hobi still hasn’t changed.

Slowly, you arrive at his knees before mounting the bed at his hips, being steadied over his pelvis as he keeps his prone position.

“You look hot as fuck, you know.”

“Mmhmm.”

“He’s gonna like you for sure.”

“Naturally.”

“So what if you end up liking him, too?”

As he smoothes a hand over the side of your ass, you purse your lips in thought. “Uhh… Feelings? I guess?”

“You can have those, babe.”

“Not mine,” you correct, knowing yours are too fucked up to share with anyone. Which is exactly why you’re all for the so-called fast title that Yoongi clipped onto your persona. “His.”

Does the lifestyle you chose come with regrets? Yeah. Complications? Also yes. But at least those hurt less than the regrets and complications actual relationships come with.

You’re just fine with how things are.

Which is why you’re scared about seeing Namjoon, because he seems like the type that wants something steady. If you end up liking him, you’re gonna have to choose between options that are vastly different in color.

Despite all that, you still said yes when he asked you out at the gym last week—while you were drenched, bare-faced, and wincing from the last set you completed to failure.

Why did you say yes anyway? What drew you in to this guy?

“If you’re scared of hurting his feelings, then just tell him straight-up,” Hobi advises, pulling you back to the present. “Guys won’t know shit unless you spell it out.”

Looking down at his perfect features, you fake disbelief, asking the most rhetorical question in existence, “You mean you can’t just read our minds?”

“Baby, we can’t even figure out our own, let alone yours.”

“You said it.” Fully reassured, you rest on Hoseok’s chest, careful to not smudge your face on his clothes. “…Pity fuck if the date goes wrong?”

“Of course.”

Your chuckle is soft. “Thank you.”

“Now get up,” he orders, smacking your ass so perfectly that it offends you. “Before I give you another necklace.”

“Hoseok!” When his cackles follow you up as you stand, your jaw cannot hinge back in. “Goddamn, you’re bad.”

“Not as bad as you,” he says, following you out of your room. “Mami.”

That goddamn nickname.

Hobi knows it’s a common term. And he knows it’s one you hear from multiple people, especially on south side. Literally nothing new or groundbreaking.

But he also knows it makes you unwell because of one specific person. Because you confessed that you didn’t expect it from them during a fuck and it made you weak in the knees.

Which caused the same motherfucker to say it over, and over, and over again.

Fucking Yoongi.

Why the hell is it only potent when he says it?

The psychology of that needs to be studied yet you will completely refuse to be a subject.

After checking to make sure you have everything, you fish out your phone to double-check the address before calling a ride.

“Where is it at?”

“Some restaurant on west side.”

“Damn, all the way over there?”

“I’m okay with it,” you assure him, inwardly wincing at the cost on your screen.

Virtually anything on west side is far from your condo, but that’s partly why you’re alright with going. As much as you get around, you don’t prefer taking people back to your place.

Besides. No one needs to know where you live unless you really fuck with them.

And it’s only happened twice.

Hoseok’s unconvinced reply cuts your thoughts in two,

“Alright… Well. Lemme know if you end up somewhere else tonight.”

Smiling, you offer him a warm look, positive that his lean against the kitchen wall would put models to shame. “I always do.”

“What did I say earlier?”

“Spell it out for him.”

“Okay, good.”

When you grin, he does, too.

And you hope this Namjoon guy at least does well with words.

Turns out, he does a fucking splendid job with them.

At least, the things this man is saying has you absolutely melting under dim lights, and you haven’t even gotten your drinks yet.

“You look damn nice tonight, by the way,” he mentions with a dip of his head, fiddling with his napkin and giving you an upsettingly perfect view of his fingers. “I feel underdressed as hell.”

Underdressed? Looking around, you feel like you’re the one that dressed way too formal and you’re in a damn sundress.

You should’ve known, though. The restaurant that Namjoon chose occupies one of the few streets known for its laid-back, easy-going fare. Even you have heard of its unique charm and you reside quite a ways away.

Before you respond, you remember how you arrived, checking around the small space before spotting him in a booth. And while you loved the lax way he dressed, you were even more charmed when he got out just to greet you with a cheek kiss.

And the night has been so pleasant that you forget to be worried.

“Why? I mean, thank you, but why?”

Namjoon gives his sweatpants-covered thighs a glance. “I dunno. You just look bossed up and I’m like, your errand boy.”

Your mirthy disbelief leaks out of your grin before he can finish. Watching a nearby table point at their menus to order, you go along with his compliments,

“I mean, I could use an assistant…”

He only smiles at his hands. “Order me around anytime.”

Cute.

Maybe that’s why you’re drawn to this guy.

Even though he’s huge and can lift like a motherfucker, there’s a soft side that he’s got no shame showing.

Also, as the night goes on, you quickly discover more traits you rarely come across.

Curious, suave, humble—all of them surprise you in the best way. He’s already let you talk much more than he has, and the two of you have debated on not one, but three topics. Including one that you would have left his ass for if you both weren’t on the same page.

“Okay, so we agree.”

“Yes,” he responds in relief. “Definitely would’ve rethought this whole thing if we didn’t.”

“Uhh, yeah, because I would’ve walked out and let you pay for everything.”

“Damn!” Fuck, his grin is charming. “And I would’ve paid it, too.”

Laughing—and realizing that you’re doing that a lot tonight—you rest a hand on his shoulder, “No, no, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Fuck, he’s solid.

“Wait, I’m getting us this time, though.”

“Yeah?”

Holding a round glass up to his lips, he coolly adds,

“And next time, too.”

Well.

There’s no way you’re saying no to that.

“To next time,” you offer, clinking cups and taking a nice sip of your wine.

Things end with both of you just having dinner—a concept so foreign that it makes you wonder if he wanted something more than a second date.

But judging by the times he kept stealing glances and the way his curve stayed at a slant, it’s an open and shut case.

It’s always a bit crowded in the front few rows, so it doesn’t bother you to hang back for the first time in awhile.

Besides, you’re a little late from your date anyway.

Since nothing else happened with Namjoon—he had to leave pretty quick—you determined that you could make it to another Gloss smackdown.

After you greet all the people and bodyguards hanging around the front doors, you arrive downstairs just in time to hear the deejay ushering everyone in.

And based on what you hear, it seems like Yijeong’s got extra volume in his mic tonight.

“Alright, alright, let’s give it up for our two up here, yeah?”

Everyone cheers as you clap to yourself, leaning against a chilly column and ignoring the stares your outfit gets.

The stage looks quite different from back here, with its huddled occupants talking amongst themselves. While you watch both crews laughing and standing around, you wonder what it would be like to support Yoongi from up there instead of on the ground.

You really would if he wanted you to.

“I don’t have to introduce either one but I’m gonna do it anyway. Cus that’s the rules or whatever and they both deserve some love. Give it up for my man K Shine!”

You aren’t familiar with him but you support anyway. A tiny whoop leaves your mouth as a big portion of the room shouts, and you watch as the guy nods to the people that came to see him.

“Oh, we’re showing out, okay. Alright, now let’s hear it for my guy Gloss!”

In contrast, your energy evolves tenfold, and you gladly yell with the rest of the floor as Yoongi stays piercing the ground at his feet.

This guy.

Still the same routine.

You always muse that he could look into the crowd once in awhile, especially since his audience is steadily growing.

If they ever saw his smile, maybe more people would be drawn in wait is he looking up this time?

Wait.

Despite there being rows and rows between you and the stage, you don’t miss the slight shift in his demeanor. It almost looks like he’s scanning the people in front.

What’s he doing? Is he looking for something? Someone?

…He’s not looking for you, is he?

You’re there quite often and always in the same area, but you didn’t think Yoongi would really notice or be checking for you right now.

…But is he?

Before you can think any further, the quick blares of an airhorn shove your thoughts away.

“K Shine, you win the toss,” the middle man on stage announces. Fuck, you think you’d know his name by now, he’s been here a lot ever since the first guy disappeared. “What you got.”

When the man answers, he stares right at Yoongi’s hooded head, fire flaring up the walls already,

“Mister Big House, Big Car, Big Rings can go first.”

Oh.

He—

You really fucking regret not being in the front now.

Immediately, the whole room ooh’s, with the middle man pursing his lips and giving the two opponents space.

Light illuminates the whole stage as both sides back up a bit, heavy cameras set to roll and some feedback ringing through the musty air.

And you wait with bated breath as the crowd goes quiet.

Heart stilling as Yoongi holds a mic right up to his lips.

—

tbc :)))

—

so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D

a/n: thank you all for reading! as i don't have too much time to spend on fics nowadays, i'll be heavily considering feedback and excitement around fics to determine what to work on. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated.

a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! k-shine was one of the first ones i ever watched, and he has good aggressive delivery and performance but not too many heavy hitters. anybody i namedrop will have rap battles linked, so here is one of k-shine’s that i remember from back in the day. battle rap is an art form in itself, and i would like to showcase these talented individuals whenever i can.

++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist

#y'all we finally did it we finally posted something :')))#bts fic #yoongi fic #namjoon fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #*ryenfictalk #*latest #ryenwrites #rapline fic #rapline smut #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader

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yoon-kooks · 1 year

Text

paired & puppy-eyed | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: if you're looking for the ✨filthy✨ smut version, read paired & pierced from the reader's pov! this one takes place in the same 2 days but from jungkook's pov without explicit smut😔 if you read both, lmk which version you preferred! i personally like this one more bc we get more catdad!jjk heh

Jungkook doesn’t always have a goal for the day, but today is different. He’s running on approximately zero hours of sleep and would love to get a nap in before class starts. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Unfortunately for him, that won’t be happening today because there are at least ten girls huddled next to his desk when he walks into the classroom. An onlooker might assume that these girls are gathered around for a chance to win his heart over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, there’s a queen bee sitting a foot away from him, and she’s the one everyone’s always drawn to.

That queen bee is none other than you.

As Jungkook quietly takes his seat, he overhears something about that Loudmouth Jim who sits on the other side of the classroom. Apparently, you were hanging out with that guy at some party. A girl like you can do so much better than Loudmouth Jim who always needs to make everything about him. He couldn’t accept it when his ex broke up with him, so he turned it around on her to make it seem like he was the one breaking things off with her. Now he’s made it his mission to make her jealous by flirting with popular girls like you. Jungkook swears he only knows this because his tattoo artist loves to spill the tea he hears from his other clients.

“Is he as big as they say?” All the girls look so wide-eyed and eager to hear what you have to say about Loudmouth Jim’s cock. They talk about shit like this all the time, and as much as it makes Jungkook want to bang his head against a brick wall, he’s also lowkey disappointed that they’ve never once wondered about the size of his cock. He wouldn’t mind if that seed were planted in that pretty little head of yours.

As it turns out, you haven’t seen Loudmouth Jim’s cock. Thank god. And from what it sounds like, you didn’t want to see it anyway. Good girl. In fact, when Jungkook takes a peek next door, you don’t even look super engaged in the girl talk. You nod along and smile a bit, but you’re a lot quieter than one would expect for someone so popular. It’s kind of cute.

Eventually, class begins and Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief. Now the girls have to cut the chitchat and leave. At long last, he can finally catch up on some sleep. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the tiny demon kitten that wandered to his doorstep a week ago. Not only does she keep him awake at night by knocking shit down and chewing on his phone charger, but she also haunts him in his sleep.

He dreams of the little fucker swatting her paws against his back and wiggling her tiny body into his hood. When that isn’t enough to get his attention, she starts gnawing on his index finger.

“Hey Jungkook.”

The boy opens an eye and the first thing he sees is you bent down in front of him as if you were about to do something indecent under his desk. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, though he still has no fucking clue why you’re down there looking up at him with such needy puppy dog eyes.

“Wanna be partners?” you ask him.

Still half-asleep, he looks around the room and sees everyone pairing up and talking about a project of some sort. Fucking hell. He absolutely despises any and all projects that aren’t individual. Even the ones where a super pretty girl is asking to pair up with him. But before he can decline, he notices you checking over your shoulder and sees Loudmouth Jim on his way over. Ah, it all makes sense now. You’re just using him to avoid being partners with that asshole. It’s a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Understandable.

“Sure, I guess.” As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t have had it in him to say no to you anyway. Not with those puppy eyes.

“Good, good.” The smile on your face is too much. Why are you smiling that big for something as small as agreeing to be your partner? It’s really not that deep. But it is really cute. Fuck. See, this is what happens when he doesn’t get enough sleep—his mind develops some sort of irrational softness that won’t go away until he either lets his body rest or rubs one out. He’ll do whatever it takes to get that nasty soft feeling out of his system.

Seeing how the classroom isn’t the best place to have his hand in his pants, he opts to fall back asleep before class ends. Hopefully he won’t be disturbed by any more kitten nightmares.

Ten seconds later, Loudmouth Jim enters the scene, and Jungkook can kiss his nap goodbye. Still slumped over, the sleep-deprived boy listens in on the awkward exchange between you and Loudmouth. Bro apparently can’t take a hint that you want nothing to do with him. Jungkook would step in and tell Jim to fuck off, but he wants to see you do it yourself. That would be kind of hot.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry,” you say in an apologetic tone. You probably get taken advantage of all the time because of that compassion. There’s no need for you to be so nice to everyone you interact with, and especially not to shallow people like Jim. That must be exhausting.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” Loudmouth spits. Kid? Jungkook does his best not to snort while pretending to be dead. When he takes a peek, he sees you nod. “And you said yes?”

You nod again. This time, however, you don’t give him the gentleness you’re known for. With a furrowed brow, you almost look bothered—something you probably feel all the time but never show. It’s so rare to see your emotions out in the open like that. It’d be quite intriguing to see how you look when you’re genuinely happy, sad, mad, horny—

Nope. Jeon Jungkook is not going to let his sleepy mind wander there on a Friday morning. It can at least wait until he gets home.

After Loudmouth Jim is gone, Jungkook sits up and stares at you. Your face has already softened back up. Fuck it. He’s never seen anyone so cute in his entire life, through sleep-deprived glasses or not.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you.” Kind of a dick move of him to ruffle your feathers when he already knows about your distaste for Jim, but Jungkook is genuinely curious to hear what you have to say. And he’s not one to be curious about other people’s affairs.

“That’s not what he wanted,” you say. They don’t call him Bad Intentions Jim for nothing.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” Perhaps “friends” isn’t the best word to describe the rest of your classmates, but it’s clear that they enjoy being in your presence.

Apparently, you feel a bit more detached than that. According to you, no one’s going out of their way to save you from a hypothetical burning house. Jungkook probably would. But there’s no way in hell he’s admitting something like that. He’d sound like a simp!

“Who would you save?” he asks. Surely you have someone you’d put before anyone else. Anyone would be lucky to be your number one.

“No one.”

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t feel a certain way about your answer, but he can’t control how his lips curl into the slightest smile. Your response is proof that the two of you aren’t as different as it seems. He might even like you for it.

Heck, he might even offer to do the whole damn project by himself and still give you credit for it! That’s the plan he has cooked up for his antisocial self—until you keep insisting on working together. Something about meeting up on the weekend. Maybe he should stop playing hard to get and just say okay.

“I’m busy.” He immediately hates himself for saying it. That’s his default response for any sort of social gathering, and his dumbass went on autopilot for no reason.

“Busy with what?” The way you flutter your eyelashes at him is both innocent and seductive. Are you actually flirting with him? Because it’s working.

“My newborn,” he utters out of panic. It didn’t entirely come out of his ass, though. The vet did say his kitten is around eight weeks. That’s basically a newborn, and she’s definitely been keeping him busy.

But then your eyes get all big and sparkly. “You have a child?”

How the fuck is Jungkook supposed to respond to that? You’re so excited over a human baby that doesn’t exist, and now he has to be the bringer of bad news. He normally doesn’t feel bad for others, but this makes him feel like absolute shit.

“If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?” you offer. Why the fuck are you so gullible and trusting in him, and why is that a huge turn-on for him?

“I was just fucking with you…” he finally comes clean. You look exactly like the surprised Pikachu meme, and yes, it’s adorable. Fine, you win. He gives you his number and address and invites you over.

All that for a fucking project.

When Jungkook returns home, a sleepy kitten waddles its way over to the door to greet him. She yawns her fish breath in his face as soon as he picks her up for a kiss. Ungrateful little demon.

She doesn’t stop there, either. With a burst of energy and a bushy tail, she flicks her eyes around, looking for a wire to chew on. The computer cords must be quite appetizing because she keeps trying to eat them.

“Hey, that's dangerous, Lucy.” Jungkook peels the kitten away from the wires and sets her down on his bed, but she just runs right back into the danger zone. “Lucinda, you little shit.”

Twenty minutes later, the boy makes a run to the pet store and returns with a few peace offerings. He’s not much of a cat person, so he has no idea what all the young kittens are into nowadays. Hopefully they like mouse toys and pink bunnies.

Like the new father he is, Jungkook spends the rest of his evening teaching the kitten how to play fetch, rocking her to sleep, and tucking her in with the mouse and bunny. Finally, the demon has been tamed.

By the time he gets into bed, it’s already past midnight. He’s exhausted and should probably get some sleep, and yet his mind is still wandering. He can’t quite shake that image of you getting down on your knees at his desk, just begging for his attention. For a second, it looked as though you, the most popular girl on campus, were lusting after his cynical smartass self. The mere possibility of that lures his hand into his pants to address that ache he’s been enduring all day. But before he can get any relief, he hears a set of paws back on the prowl.

Jungkook hobbles out of bed and turns on the light. To no one’s surprise, the naughty kitten is caught red-handed with a wire in her mouth.

With a sigh, he collects the kitty, sits her down in his lap, turns his computer on, and opens up the code for the partner project. It’s going to be a long night.

The funny thing is, the assignment itself doesn’t require much time or effort. What takes up all his time and effort is this silly kitten. She’s adorable but so damn needy. Kind of like you. If you were here to work on the project with him like you’d fought so hard to do, you’d surely be much too big of a distraction. No work would ever get done when you bat your eyes at him and giggle over the tiniest things.

It takes a good few hours between modifying and adding lines of code and keeping an eye on the troublemaker, but Jungkook eventually gets it done before the sun rises. As an added bonus, the naughty little wire fairy has finally worn herself out. She curls into a ball on top of Jungkook’s chest and falls into a deep slumber. The boy is out a minute later.

It’s around ten in the morning when Jungkook wakes up and checks his phone. You’re supposed to drop by sometime today, aren’t you? He wishes he knew when to expect you, or if you weren’t coming at all. It’s up to you to message him, though, since he gave you his number and not the other way around.

Just then, he hears a knock at the door. His first instinct says it’s you. But then he checks his phone again and sees no new message from your unknown number. Surely you’d shoot him a text before heading his way.

It’s probably just the special package of kitty toys he ordered a few days ago. He’d get up to check, but he’s not trying to disturb the little rascal from her slumber. She’s still resting peacefully on his chest, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

But what if the package gets stolen? Jungkook spent a lot more money than he’d like to admit on those kitty toys, and he’d be pretty pissed if someone took that away from his child.

Groaning, Jungkook slowly lifts the sleepy kitten off his chest and places her on the warm spot where he’d been lying. She stretches out her tiny limbs but otherwise continues her snooze. Perfect.

The first thing he sees when he opens the door is your bare tummy because you’ve apparently decided to show up at his door unannounced in a micro crop top. It’s so short your pretty tits might pop out if your arms were held above your head. Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t mind seeing a little underboob if that’s the look you’re going for today.

Then he notices you staring at him like he’s a stranger. You haven’t even greeted him yet. He watches as your eyes travel up his bare arm to his face and messy man bun, and then back to his arm. That’s when it hits him. This is the first time you’re seeing any of his tattoos and piercings.

The quiet studious Jeon Jungkook at school doesn’t look like the type to have a full sleeve or this many piercings. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and prefers to keep a low profile. Life is just easier that way. That’s why he always takes his piercings out and covers his tattoos with a hoodie when it’s time to go to class.

Seeing him now in a muscle tank must be quite shocking to you.

“Why do you look like that?” You have the audacity to point the finger at him when you’re looking that good in your little crop top. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

Oh? You sound kind of upset at the fact that he’s been intentionally hiding his body art in class. Like you’ve been missing out.

“Maybe,” he answers as he leads you inside. Your curious eyes are still glued to his tattoos. You ask why he hides it all, and he mentions his distaste for compliments and small talk.

He does it to avoid the exact things you’re so good at attracting.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” You bring out a pouty lip to combo with those puppy eyes. He wonders how you make your pupils so big like that. And what the fuck are you so whiny for? You want to admire his body art that badly? Fine.

“I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment.” Without a single thought, he lifts his tatted arm for you to grab onto. Your hands are so soft and warm as they slide across each tattoo. It’s in times like this that Jungkook wishes his entire body was covered in tattoos for you to trace with that angelic touch.

After what feels like forever, you still haven’t said your one compliment. It seems like you’re just using this as an excuse to latch onto his arm like his little kitten.

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” He’d give you a nudge but his arm is too busy being fondled.

“I wish I could see all of them.” Your eyes meet his as your tits press into his arm. The compliment is innocent at face value, but the implications behind it sure as hell aren’t. Oh, you definitely want to fuck him.

If you think you can just waltz into his home with that crop top, drool all over his tattoos, and ask for sex so shamelessly, you’re not wrong. His body is aching to squeeze those tits, to feel just how tight you are, and to make you squirm until you squirt.

“Ooh kitty.” Like an easily distracted toddler, you toss his arm aside and move on to the next toy that fascinates you. The kitten drops her mouse in front of you and sniffs your hand when you scoop her up. Jungkook watches from afar as his own kitten steals you away from him. She even presses her pink nose to your cheek. That little fucker.

Jungkook has to bite his tongue at least five times to stop himself from asking if you’re done playing with his cat. He’d come off as jealous and needy for your attention. Instead, he acts like the mature father he is and puts her to bed in that pink new donut cushion he’d bought for her the other day. She kneads her paws on the bunny until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore and settles into the loaf position. He’s convinced she’s only behaving like an angel right now to impress his lady friend.

“So what’s this project again?” The boy has no intentions of actually working on the project, but he’d prefer it if you weren’t so focused on his cat.

“You’d know if you were listening!” You turn back to the cat again. He could’ve sworn he heard you whispering something into her triangle ears like, “Your daddy is so useless.”

Hearing that name come out of your mouth is confirmation. Confirmation that you’d be so submissive if he were to spread your legs open and make you his little plaything. And he kind of likes the sound of that.

“I’m just fucking with you again. I already finished it, by the way,” he hums. Since you seem to be the stubborn type when it comes to project participation, he sits you down at his computer with the finished code to prove that daddy is not in fact useless.

He expects you to be all wide-eyed and impressed by his work, but you simply sigh as you run the program. Great. It appears he has yet another ungrateful little thing on his hands.

But then you start adding in a bunch of stuff “for the aesthetic” because although he’s “quite possibly the nerdiest boy you’ve ever met,” there’s still room for growth when it comes to “the fun shit.” And by “the fun shit,” you mean coding in a cat doing some elaborate kpop choreo.

Half an hour later, you run the final product again and submit it in its perfect form. Aren’t you the nerd here? Quite possibly the prettiest nerd he’s ever met.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd,” Jungkook says before face-palming internally. Why does he always resort to name-calling as his way of flirting with people? This is why no one likes him and why he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. He’s going to ruin a good thing with you if he keeps that up.

But to his surprise, you throw the name right back at him with a playful smile on your face. “If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd.”

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him.” But a threesome with you? Sounds interesting.

You call Jim an asshole and don’t deny that you have a bunch of shallow relationships with the people in your class. When the boy asks you about it, you admit it’s intentional. It’s this mindset of surrounding yourself with a lot of different people until you run into the few you click with.

And while Jungkook can’t relate to having that many connections to his peers, he understands the desire for someone who cares for you unconditionally and makes you want to do the same. He’s been waiting for that person to show up for him too. Idly. At least you’re putting yourself out there.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, lying down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling and not at the pretty person sitting less than a foot away from him. You’d joined him on the bed at some point to play with the kitten, but the feline was very quick to abandon you. Now it’s just you and him.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in.” Your voice is flirty and soft. The boy knows he might have a big ego at times, but there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about him. You wouldn’t be on his bed eyeing him like that if that weren’t the case.

With that knowledge in mind, Jungkook decides to tease you some more. “I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it? You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” Your face hovers over his like the moon during an eclipse, except you’re much more enticing to look at. He catches your eyes on his lips until they find their way up to meet his gaze. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

Liar.

“Really?” His body suddenly moves on its own, overcome with the lust that had been building up since you first showed him those puppy eyes in class. He pulls you beneath him and holds both of your wrists above your head. He was right. That crop top is indeed short enough to show him some underboob with you in that helpless position. And, much like how you said you wanted to see all his tattoos, he wants nothing more in this moment than to see the rest of you until he’s seen it all.

Purposely keeping the tiniest distance between his lips and yours, he whispers, “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

As the afternoon turns to evening, you’re still at Jungkook’s place, still fondling his arm on his bed, and still obsessed with all the art and piercings that grace his body. The two of you had fallen asleep after getting a few rounds of filthy sex out of your systems, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s used to people leaving right after, whether it’s because the relationship was purely sexual or because it just wasn’t worth his time. You’re different, though. There’s something about you that he wants to keep holding onto.

“Did this one hurt?” You poke the metal sticking out of his eyebrow.

“Not as much as you stabbing me with your finger just now,” he frowns, running a hand through his messy hair. The man bun must’ve come out at some point in the midst of all that hair pulling and wrestling in the sheets.

“You must have really low pain tolerance then,” you giggle with your finger ready to poke him someplace else. But before you can do so, he closes his hand around yours and tucks your pointy finger away to put an end to your antics. “You’re no fun,” you pout.

“Really? You seemed like you were enjoying it when I let you s—”

“Where’s this one from?” You somehow dodge the accusation and free your finger from his grasp to poke the shark tattoo that you now know hides beneath his shirt. You’re so sneaky.

“Someone.” Aka the same artist he gets his gossip from.

“What about the… snake one?” Of course that’s the one that pops into your dirty little head.

“Someone else.” Aka the one he might have slept with a few times before she convinced him that the snake would look good on him there. She wasn’t wrong. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m just asking! Maybe I want a tattoo too!” you squeak. Jungkook has no doubt in his mind that you’d look pretty damn hot with any tattoo anywhere on that body. “Tattoos are attractive, no?”

“Be honest, you only fucked me for my tattoos, huh.” The boy knows this to be false because you aren’t the shallow type, but he just wants to hear what other good things you have to say about him. Because maybe he doesn’t hear that a lot from others.

“Obviously. It had nothing to do with how hot you are, or how easy you are to talk to, or how soft you are for your cat, or how perfect of a pair we made for that project,” you lie with the most charming smile ever, snuggling up as close as you possibly can to his body. Twirling his long hair around your finger, you tuck it behind his ear, and whisper, “I’m such a little slut for your tattooed cock.”

The boy gets yet another urge to tear your clothes off again and feel your bare body connect with his so perfectly. He’s just about to shove his hand into your panties (you gave up on pants after the third time) when you let out a tiny snicker.

“I take back what I said about you not being fun,” you say, lips flush against his neck. “You’re fun to tease.”

Him? Fun to tease? Maybe you’re forgetting about all the teasing and torture he put you through earlier. Maybe you’re in need of a little reminder.

“Hey,” he says in his stern parent voice. You look up at him with those big innocent eyes again. Oh great. It’s clear that you know his weakness and aren’t afraid to exploit it. Just like how his naughty little kitten knows she can get away with anything because she’s too cute to get mad at. “Behave or I’ll kick you out.”

“Oh?” His so-called threat catches your attention enough to get your ass in his lap and your hands tangled in his hair. You let him taste your lips, your tongue, your everything—a sweet taste he won’t ever get sick of. “Do whatever you please to me,” you purr as the soft kisses quickly become an unbearable heat of pure desire.

Between you and his kitten, Jungkook already knows he’s gonna have his hands full. The thought of caring for others would normally irk him, but it’s not like he could ever say no to you or the kitten, even if he tried.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

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taegularities · 11 months

Text

candles & flames: epilogue | jjk (m)

epilogue

Summary: He wasn't supposed to be yours. His foolery wasn't supposed to target you. This wasn't supposed to happen.

But as you glance into a forever with him… You're happy that it did.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au; fluff, smut ➳ warnings: a weddingggg !! so there’s fluff. so much disgusting fluff :’), lots of cheesing, confessions, wedding day heebie-jeebies, insecurities, comfort!!, tae is cewt, jk is cewt, oc is cewt too... everyone is very sweet, tears, dancing, bickering, teasing, flirting :’), explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, bit of choking, looots of tiddie fondling, bit of harshness, bit of a pain kink, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, handjob, mentions of sl*t and wh*re, riding, big dick jk, dom jk, some sub jk again!, mouth-fucking, hard sex, doggy + missionary <3, hair pulling, crying, spanking, clit slapping, praises, manhandling, dirty talk, spit stuff, coming inside her <3, yeah lmk if i forgot something :’) ➳ wc: 19.1k >:) ➳ a/n: god, i was cheesing so hard writing this lol. thank you again for all your support, guys – you made this lil journey unforgettable, and i shall remember these two babies for a long time <3 you can read this as a stand-alone, but i recommend reading the other parts! ➳ a/n2: this is the epilogue and final part to my mini-series candles & flames !! find the mpost below <3

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

When big, brown eyes meet the same pair in the mirror, the notion of Big Days suddenly changes.

No matter how expensive the attire or how exorbitant the ball; none of the appraised events he’s ever attended seem relevant anymore. Why do they fall under the category of luxury anyway; why are they advertised as the grand moments of the season?

Thinking back, Jungkook cannot recall one instance that led to such fluttering emotions.

Embedded in his mind, caged in his heart, gutting him alive.

When he lifts a hand, he realises he’s shaking, and curls it into a fist; no draw of breath is enough to calm his heaving chest.

This.

This is a Big Day, starting and stretching from this moment on. This is what he’d define as life-altering.

How has he never properly prepared for the change he’s about to face, despite living in a society that prioritises and strives for marital bliss?

He’s known for so long that chaos would occur on such a day, after all.

And he’s not talking about the chaos erupting around him. Not the background argument between Seokjin and Taehyung, two pouts delivering one dense argument after another.

He’s referring to the one bringing back his restless habits: feet constantly and repeatedly tapping the ground; teeth worrying his lower lip; nails wounding the skin around his fingers.

Because.

The stress leaves his nerves frayed.

And… What are you feeling right now?

You, always clear-headed and honey-sweet. A calm, weightless soul, like the clouds; a heart made of sugar.

Are you letting down your guard, too? Sitting next to your sister, big eyes staring into your own mirror, as well? Will you step to the altar with a lowered head and twisting guts, or calm while he bursts?

Then again—

You’re emotional as hell.

In hindsight, there have been several moments when you imploded and exploded; harder than him, so maybe you’re—

He shakes his head.

This overthinking — this isn’t him. Or it’s usually not. To be fair, wedding days trigger a shit ton, so no one can judge him, thank you very much.

He straightens his stance; smiles at himself, because it is alright. The two of you will be alright. You want this just as much and—

“Lord Jeon.”

Shit.

The voice sounds scared. Why does his chaperone sound scared?

Jungkook turns with raised brows and a lip jutting out. Dark brown pupils sparkle in anticipation, though tinged with nervousness.

But one thing he’s learned from you is optimism.

Your never-faltering faith in people and situations are addictive and contagious — the nervy tone of the man near the open door doesn’t deter him just yet.

So he smiles faintly, even though the white vest starts feeling tight around his waist. The long, black coat sits cosy on his body, not letting through any air.

He’s ready for the public, but he’s suffocating.

“Hm?” he voices.

To which the elderly, bald man stutters, “Th– uh, the Lady’s sister just came rushing as I stood outside the door and informed me that—”

He hesitates. His tongue licks between his thin lips.

Jungkook’s light smile doesn’t drop, but he could very well be speaking through gritted teeth — that’s how sincere the optimism he adapted from you looks right now.

Seems that it needs time to develop such a mindset.

God. He admires you; commends every upbeat corner of your mind.

But sighing over you won’t make the current struggle any less real.

Because when he emphasises a, “What?”, the chaperone breathes in worriedly, as if he’s scared of hurting Jungkook, and says, “A situation has… occurred.”

So much to patience.

When Jungkook gulps, the corners of his lips tilt downwards. Dumbfounded and confused, hoping for nothing too awful, he repeats, “What?”

Seokjin and Taehyung’s bicker has long stopped. Just as confused, they stand in the corner of the room, in front of the window, soaking in the heat. Synchronised, their hands rest on their hips, waiting for the news.

And the hesitating chaperone delivers it as though it’s the tragedy of the century, “The bride is missing.”

Four simple words.

Far worse than a hopeful, The bride has arrived.

The possibility of this very outcome plagued Jungkook’s nights; even during the ones he spent wrapped around you, he’d drown in his own sorrowful worries. Would wait for the moment you might change your mind.

But he always circled back to hope.

Life did a number on him, and he thought you were the only one he would never lose faith in.

So, into the silence, broken by the chirps and whistles of birds, he lets out a brief laugh. It’s a little panicked, a little genuine. The crinkles around his eyes are real.

But the situation is awkward; so much worse and hurtful when the chaperone’s head tilts.

Jungkook blinks; looks back and forth between him and his cousins. They stare at him speechlessly, blinking back. Reassurances lay on their tongues before Jungkook chuckles again and breathes, “I don’t think that’s funny.”

The man’s eyebrows rise. “Excuse me?”

“Should this be a wedding day joke among my people,” his taut jaw hardens, and he adds, “you’re not being as hilarious as you might think. And I know what good humour is. It’s why I am marrying he— for God’s sake, don’t look at me like that—”

Empathic gazes all around.

It feels like he’s waiting to be beheaded, not have a marriage solemnised.

He puffs out a breath.

This cannot be true.

With a shake of his head, he peels the coat off his shoulders and throws it over the vanity chair. Listens as the man justifies, “I am merely passing on informa— where are you going?”

As Jungkook approaches the door with rapid steps, he turns around one last time; there’s no anger or frustration in his eyes. Just worry.

The urge to find you again. To bring you back.

You want this just as much. He knows you do.

The moments you spent alone, locked in a chamber; brushing a hand over golden cheeks — you told him so many times that you do.

So the ever-yearning man needs to seek out the missing bride, and he knows exactly where she might be hiding.

Brooding, he shrugs his shoulders, and then asks, “What do you think?”

The weather is a blossoming dream today.

Ideal for a stroll or a party. Perfect for a wedding.

Ugh.

It’s what you have been hoping for for a full year; worse in the past couple of days.

Rain is dear to your heart, but it didn’t suit the occasion — people do not usually like it when clouds burst. And they do not know how deeply those tiny drops connected Jungkook and you back when the sparks first flew.

But these events please guests more than the hosts — you’re merely awaiting everything that might follow. So it’s great that things turned out well.

The noon sun is high in the sky, shining through the rustling leaves, and you keep staring up at its radiancy. Somewhere nearby, you hear a stream; its soft sounds calm you a little.

But all of it contradicts the beating of your heart. Your face keeps heating up. And your fingers won’t stay still.

Are you really doing it?

About to walk up to the man you never thought you’d fall for just over a year ago? The royal you despised growing up? Are you truly dressed in all white, sporting long, silk gloves and a gown with stitched-in flower patterns?

You’re…

Close to facing what you define as a forever. Eternally tied to a beating, bleeding heart.

Oh God.

Jeon Jungkook?

Oh fuck; it dawns on you that—

You’re actually doing it it’s actually happening it’s absolutely real—

You fidget with your digits some more, wondering who’ll find you first.

You’re not too far from the wedding hall. They’ll make you out in this wide field in no time; a little longer and you’ll probably register a friend or your sister or your parents calling your name.

Seokjin, if you’re lucky — he’s a tease and a jokester, but he respects you and will most likely only pat your back in reassurance. Your sister taught him that.

Taehyung, if you’re unlucky.

He won’t let you live this down; he will nudge your elbow and jest throughout your life. It might be too late to hope for any other outcome anyway, though.

But when another man’s voice chimes instead, utterly familiar, way too near to the tree you stand against, you flinch. Nearly shriek.

You hastily walk aruond a quarter of the thick tree, hiding behind it; but he calls your name followed by an endearment, stating, “I caught a movement there. I know you’re here.”

Hastily, you command, “Do not round the tree.”

A pause. Then, “Why?”

“We are not allowed to see each other before the wedding!”

Your hands are a little sweaty under the gloves; your heart is manic behind your chest. And Jungkook’s shenanigans don’t make things better when he clicks his tongue and says, “Yes. Right. Since I haven’t seen you that past year, have I?”

You lower your head, pushing your hands behind your back. Your lips press into a thin line, eyes flitting to the grass next to your feet — or at least, next to the hem of your dress.

The way he must look right now is clear in your imagination. Balancing his body on one leg, toying with his own gloves, head tilted. An eye squinting as the sun blinds him; short dark hair blowing a little in the wind.

He doesn’t like it slicked up, as it should be for a groom; prefers it fluffy and natural, untamed almost. And perhaps you do, too — but you think he would’ve pulled off the elegant look of a royal effortlessly, too.

When you don’t respond, he speaks again.

“Love.” His voice is endlessly soft, like cotton and feathers. Your heart jumps every time he calls you that — when does one get used to true love? “What happened?”

One of your shoulders lifts, though he can’t see it. You lie, “Nothing.”

“You ran away.”

“I did not run away. I just…”

“But you left the mansion.”

The fact sounds a lot more cruel and relentless when spoken like that. On a day such as this, leaving to hide near a stream probably wasn’t the kindest thing to do to an expecting audience and a nervous fiancé.

You fill your cheeks with air and keep it there. Whenever you usually do, he calls you a pufferfish — in that one year of ecstatic togetherness, he’s caught on to a habit or two.

Such as, that unlike the pufferfish, you don’t release poison but guilt.

If he saw you now, he’d probably reassure you — but since he’s out of view, you can’t help but feel regret.

Your voice is teeny tiny, and you shuffle the feet under your dress as you murmur just loud enough for him to hear, “I apologise.”

And back comes a neutral, “Why?”

Like he knew you were going to say it, but still wants to learn the reason for it.

“I must have worried you,” you say.

“Hmm. Admittedly… a little.” You shrink into yourself. “I thought you were running from me.”

Pause — hesitation.

He’s wrong, and you feared he’d draw such a conclusion. So you’re not quiet because you agree, but because you feel bad.

Perhaps he doesn’t catch the memo, because he sounds a little more tense when he speaks again, his voice shakier and more fearsome.

“Were you?” You shake your head; then grimace, because he still can’t see. “...Do you still want this?”

You look back down. “More than anything.”

“What’s the matter, then?”

You guess this is something that has been established between the two of you.

Whenever one worries, the other softens.

Throughout time, you have discovered sides of Jungkook that eleven-year-old-you would’ve never suspected. You thought he was transparent — a clear asshole forcing you back into your shell.

You didn’t know he covered his face with another mask; and underneath lay what he truly is.

A man who’s afraid of too many things, but who’ll never resent the hope you evoke in him.

So you must have called forth a dozen worries when you left the mansion — and the fact that he’s here, melting for you, nearing you with a gentle attempt to pacify you…

It means a lot more than affection showcased through anger. You’re certain anyone else wouldn’t have held on for so many minutes in succession.

With a red, hot puddle behind your chest, you merely answer, “Scared.”

And his voice is just as mellow as before, “What of, darling?”

You feel like an upset child. Immature and stupid, making yourself small the way you would when your parents scolded you decades ago. Like you’re hiding under a table or in a cupboard again.

But Jungkook doesn’t scold you; no fibre of his being knows how to.

No, you reprimanded yourself.

And those very thoughts rush back into your mind. The palm brushing along the dress’ material soothes your alight nerves a little, and then, you let your distress slip, “I can be very loud. And emotional.”

The answer is immediately; he doesn’t question your declaration with confusion, but gives you a matter-of-factly and firm, “Yes.”

You wait. Of course you’re not a secret to him anymore.

With a sigh, you try, “I do not want to annoy you.”

He should’ve known — he’s had one of these intrusive thoughts, too. His were slightly different; pointing more into the direction of past mistakes.

Scared you might leave; scared you might not want to settle with such a tainted reputation. But you have made abundantly clear that you don’t care, multiple times a day, over the span of a year.

What’s done is done — and the town doesn’t have a choice but to respect royalty.

And who is he to worry if you’re so open to all he’s made of? Accepting all his strengths and flaws?

He’s baffled that you don’t reckon the same vice versa.

So he finally voices, “What?”

“Well…” you say, drifting off for a moment; and then, you start again, “I like sleeping in. I read and write half the day. I do not attend every ball, and… I… want to learn things.”

You’ve said that before. He’s seen it before.

“I know that,” he responds, undeterred and calm.

You elaborate, “I just. I am scared you might not want such a wife. Even the happiest marriages I have known… demanded the woman to be traditional, and be able to bear children and to know when she needs to shut up and—”

He must say, despite how valid your worries sound, especially considering this very society, your thoughts are outrageous.

If Jungkook has proven one thing to you, then it’s that he doesn’t necessarily swim with today’s rules and expectations either. Or so he thought; perhaps you haven’t quite understood yet.

“I think…” you continue, and he raises his head to the tree, listening. “It just baffles me that you still want me.”

Alright. Enough.

“Why?” Jungkook asks, stretching the world as though you have offended him.

The utter confusion makes your words halt for a second — hope sparks in you. Not that it ever fully died; you are still dressed as a bride from head to toe. And it was you running away. Not him.

But maybe a last confession, one last reassurance is what you need.

So you explain, “Because you’re one of the good things in the world.”

The little chuckle isn’t as subtle as he thinks. When you hear it, your body tenses, your back straightening and your fingernails digging into your palms.

You move your head to the side. The position still doesn’t allow you a glimpse of him, but you think you hear the solace in his voice better.

“Is this really worrying you?” he wants to know. The question is tinged with slight amusement.

You jut out your lower lip; the pout makes you sound like a child when you ask back, “Should it not?”

“Do you understand who you are speaking to?”

It could sound formal if he wanted to. As though he’s talking to staff, to someone below his level; he could make it sound authoritative. Royal.

But no. He’s still entertained, albeit a little concerned, too.

And you decide to jest back, though it comes out too serious when you say, “Lord Jeon Jungkook.”

Which he denies immediately.

“No.” A pause; and when he speaks again, his voice has crept closer. He must be on the other side of the tree trunk. “Jungkook.”

You blink.

He adds, “The man who fell for you, because you didn’t care what he thought of you.”

Different from now. He emphasises it each time you bring up the past; the banters and the wasted time. You used to not give him the time of the day; to you, he was as important as any other human being.

Now that your relationship has shifted, he’s grown far closer to your heart; he’s worth more than anyone else before or after, even though he’s still so painfully human.

So yes, you care. You care what he thinks of you, in the best way possible.

He says, “You did whatever you pleased, yet were so kind. You say I am a good part of this world, but you have always been hopeful and stubborn in the most admiring way. Because you do not know what giving up means. And… I certainly know you aren’t giving up now, either.”

Crickets.

A year ago, you didn’t think he’d be so insightful. So thoughtful.

“I am not,” you agree. “I cannot.”

“Hm?”

“I would not give up on you.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer. Soft steps replace his voice; they’re almost silent on the grass, but you still hear some of his movements. Which prompts you to shut your eyes immediately, pressing your back further into the tree as you warn anew, “Do not—”

“I shall not look if you don’t.”

Huh.

Is this a safe method?

You trust him, but you’re anxious and in utter disorder, too. Just a little more when you hear him right next to you, shoulders probably inches apart, “Close your eyes.”

To which you panic a bit harder, shaking your head as you fret, “Oh God, do not—”

“Stop worrying,” he orders; his voice is so soft — God, you want to rip your eyes open right away. But you endure. “I will not risk bad luck on such a day.”

You breathe.

“So you will close your eyes, as well?” you ask abashed.

“I already have.”

Another sigh of relief.

“...Alright.”

“And you?” His warmth nears your body. You feel it, along with his dangling fingers near yours. You lean back a tiny bit, one with the tree, right before he hooks his fingers with three of yours. “Are you keeping them close?”

He pulls you closer, away from the damn trunk; you whisper, “I am.”

The pad of his thumb runs along the slightly veiny back of your hand. He caresses your skin, and you drop your head to the ground again, suppressing the urge to stare at him until sunset.

You feel a slight tug at your dress; he might have accidentally stepped onto it. But you couldn’t care less when he voices his next suggestion, knocking you out of breath, “We can wait if you need to.”

The patience. It’s the patience and understanding that empties your lungs.

The fact that he is ready to postpone such a day; ready to face public humiliation, disapproving stares, disrespectful murmur.

He prioritises you over every little whisper and every old-fashioned tradition. You circle his mind and occupy his heart; the care for you isn’t new, but it leaves you bewildered each time.

Doesn’t that truly prove that you’re prepared for the future you imagined?

“I do not,” you tell him, “And I want you to be happy. I… want to make you happy.”

You know what he’ll say — he says it to you every day, over and over again. Between kisses and embraces and confessions.

“I am happy.”

Yet, one last time, you make sure, “Are you really?”

The reassurance is immediate. “This is the first time that I am, sweetheart.”

Ouch.

Why does the admission ache? After all you have learned about him and his life, you should be used to this fact, this burden he carries around.

You think he has healed in large amounts… but you still curse the world and its demons for drenching most of his life in agony. Decade-long misery that you wish you could erase.

The biggest drawback about the past. Nostalgia means nothing when memories remain painful — and the inability to change those moments is a disadvantage in life.

But you know him. And he’s learning — to move forwards and be happy. According to him, he is.

“You genuinely are…” you say.

It’s more a statement than a question, but patiently, he confirms again, “I promise. I won’t change my mind.”

Pause.

You nod again. There are no tears swimming in your waterline, but you still sniffle; scratching a little behind your ear until you finally ask, “How did you find me here?”

When he stalls his answer for a moment, a bird chirps right above your head. It sings a brief song, perhaps communicating with a lover, too — you think it sounds like a nightingale.

The melody matches Jungkook’s voice when he speaks again, ripping out your heart for the millionth time to store it next to his, “You… You once told me you seek shelter at such places.”

You look up, to such a place. Even with your eyes closed, you see the greenery, hear the water nearby. You said that, didn’t you?

“There aren’t any fireflies,” he continues, “so I assumed you must be somewhere along the stream.”

In a hot room, lit by fading candles and caught in stranger sheets, you confessed your love for serene locations like this just once. One single time.

You thought his mind was too clouded by the immediate future, uncertain still as you travelled for the truth. But he listened. Different from so many people you know, nodding along with your words with their mind far away—

He really listened.

You murmur, “It has been so long.”

“I remember,” he argues. “It was a special night.”

It was. And you must admit that… despite the dangers lingering around and the distress creeping up your mind, you want to feel the magic again.

Not that it dimmed. But there was something about the big firsts. The confessions, the kisses, the intimacy. The promise to stay.

That’s what the two of you are — vows and eternity. You’re warmth and comfort and trust. Loyalty and laughter. Maturity but foolery.

The both of you, together, are what you thought were star crossed lovers, only to turn out as soulmates meant to be.

The closeness that binds you is irreplaceable; and despite the bond you’re about to seal, you—

“I do not want to be here,” you say.

He understands, knows you don’t mean it bad. You want to be gone, because solace between four walls where just the two of you bask in each other? That’s what you need.

Not this public gathering, tinged in joy yet strangers’ gazes.

If he wasn’t a royal — if he was just a Lord like you are a Lady, a viscount’s daughter, you wouldn’t have hesitated to celebrate in a small circle. And Jungkook would have agreed.

But you didn’t want to toy with his reputation further. If anything, you want to show the world what he is truly made of; they need to see.

“Me neither,” he confesses, “but. Only a few hou—”

“Jungkook…”

God. It’s becoming harder to keep your eyes closed.

“Yes.”

You ask, “Are you going to cry? At the altar?”

He lets your hand go, brushing it up your arm. You immediately cling to his elbow, seeking his touch to not fall. His words dizzy you with each confession.

Like, “I don’t know. But you make me cry quite often.”

Do you? You hardly recall seeing him tear up because of you. He must notice, because he hastily adds, “Or you would. If I did not control myself.”

“…What do you mean?”

“You… overwhelm me sometimes. In a pleasant way.”

Your mind runs into overdrive. Your eyelids flutter, but you shut them tight again, biting your lip to keep the question in before you do combust.

“So, you really do want this.” Another goddamn pause. Have you overdone it? Too many inquiries? Fear spreads in your chest; you wait. And when he still doesn’t answer, you call, “Jungk—”

“Angel.”

You shrink at the firm tone of his voice. Still gentle, not a hint of anger in it, but so… final.

“…Yes,” you whisper.

“You are the love of my life.”

…Oh.

The flame in your heart dances with a radiant light. As his words unfurl, something new blossoms in your mind. Despite all the fondness he’s gifted you so far, you have never heard him say such a thing before.

And it changes the beat of your heart for a moment.

You hold his arm tighter.

And he, waiting a second, keeps rubbing along your upper arm before he says, “You are shaking.”

“I…” You are. The most delicate tremble; it stems from everything good. “I am sorry.”

“No need to apologise. I was…” He huffs, laughing. “A mess just ten minutes ago.”

You swallow hard, still unable to respond much to his words. So he takes over again, carefully moving his fingers up until they touch your chin tenderly; asking, “Are you going to come back?”

There was never a doubt about it. Thinking back, you can’t quite say why you ran away at all.

No doubts at all.

You tell him, “Yes… I will.”

“Then I shall meet you soon, right?”

He doesn’t await an answer. Only pinches your chin between his fingers lightly, pulling you in just a bit before soft, supple lips press against your forehead.

They remain there for a moment; he whispers something unintelligible — perhaps your name. And when his touch is gone, you open your eyes a minute later, only to realise that he has left to wait, too.

The celebration hall is ridiculously sepia.

Brown, heavily decorated walls surround you as you converse with a dozen of guests. Huge lusters hang above your head, properly set tables all around; and if you counted the candles, you’d still be here by the end of the night.

Dangerous, little flames everywhere. But luckily, not many guests bother to sit down to eat.

Most of them wander the hall, ghosting around the dancefloor in the middle where you see children hopping and chasing each other. The groom is still caught up in a conversation with his brother, and against all traditions once again, the big dance got postponed.

Which is probably why no adult is stepping onto the dancefloor — waiting for the newlywed couple to start the party with a sway in each others’ arms.

What you do as you wait instead, is stop Taehyung in his tracks.

An excited man he can be, albeit calm and regal on any other day.

“Where are you going?” you ask, watching brown eyes fixated on the exit.

You think you already know the answer. Judging from the way he has been eyeing one of your cousins the past few days, roaming around during preparation and then sending quiet signals during the ceremony, it’s not hard to guess.

“Catching a bit of fresh air?” Taehyung answers. Odd how his statement sounds like a question; or an ask for permission.

“Is that so? We just arrived, though,” you tell him. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheeks. His stance relaxes as he steps in front of you properly. “The fresh breath of air carries the name Hina these days, apparently.”

His eyes blow wide.

“W—” He laughs; a pleasant, deep chuckle, but not as genuine as you know it to be. “Why would you assume such a thing?”

“Gut feeling. Or perhaps, the conversation I had with her yesterday.”

“Oh,” he voices. He looks around, and you follow his eyes. No one is listening; Hina, of course, isn’t anywhere to be seen. He leans in. “What was it about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?

Taehyung looks at you with squinted eyes; and when his eyebrows relax, plush lips are dampened by his tongue before he says, “In all honesty, yes. I would like to kn—”

“Tae,” you mumble. You clear your throat when a chatterbox walks past you, and once she’s gone, you say, “I do not need to tell you anything, because you already know. You know as well as I did with Jungkook.”

“Oh my God,” he immediately exclaims. “The two of you are balsam to my eyes, but if it takes me weeks to make up my mind and then another year to speak my vows… I will—”

A boxy grin flashes, but your mouth playfully drops. A roll of your eyes indicates slight, faux vexation, and once he’s nudged your shoulder and laughed it off, you say, “She is from a respectable family. I do think she is fond of you. So.”

You shrug your shoulders, lifting a hand to his collar to fix it, “You both will be fine.”

Taehyung smiles. Whatever euphoria he priorly basked in has fallen a little, his eyes dropping to the ground as he nods. A strand of his pushed-back hair escapes and covers his sight, and you rewind mentally to find out what you said.

They will be fine.

She is fond of him.

She comes from a respectable family.

Oh.

“Taehyung,” you hastily say, and he looks up with a hum, entirely innocent. “I… How have you been feeling?”

“Oh, I… I am good.”

Hmm…

Maybe you should address the topic head-on.

“Good. You see. If there was anything to worry about, I would let you know.” He nibbles at his thick, lower lip. He must have been thinking about this for a while. “A respectable family doesn’t demand another.”

He understands. Looks at you with confusion and some desperation in his eyes. Immediately jumps aboard and continues the conversation as he says, “I… Does it not? Is it not a crucial factor in matchmaking?”

“Perhaps. But I know her parents, and I know that,” you put a comforting hand on his chest; feel him breathe out, “they would rather their daughter lives and dies with a respectable husband than parents-in-law.”

Taehyung remains quiet. So you add, bluntly, “Your father’s reputation won’t stand in your way. It’s up to you.”

His eyes are misty and his expression still fallen. Hope dances around his lips when he lifts them to a tiny smile, but you still see the lingering pain he fought through that last year.

“Thank you,” he says.

When his shoulders drop, it looks like a burden falls with them.

“I understand. It is alright, we… I reckon we expected such a showdown one day. I mean,” he shakes his head, clears up, “We didn’t know about the scandal, or the bribing, but he was never the softest soul around. And I never condone cruelty, so… finding out about it changed my opinion about him.”

Which is… terrible.

No child should suffer through such a thing; not with one mere parent left.

You feel so incredibly sorry for him; as though it was your fault. Even though you surely know it wasn’t.

What brought you freedom trapped the brothers in ache.

You ask, “And… Seokjin?”

The question seems to lift the mood, because Taehyung laughs, nodding into a random direction over his shoulders. But you spot the older man immediately.

His hopeful eyes are scanning the crowd, looking for the desired girl, and when he finally spots your sister, you see him sigh a breath of relief.

Taehyung jokes, “He has been distracted these days.”

You laugh. Seokjin walks over to her, bows and offers his hand. She places her fingers onto the gloved palm; her smile suggests that she’s gotten used to him. Of course she has.

Similarly to Jungkook and you, those two had a year to learn about each other. Officially, he is still courting her, but you know what the reality truly is. He will propose soon.

You guess they did not let themselves get this far due to your own wedding. To focus on one event first. Perhaps something might happen tonight?

Sweet.

Talking about it.

Taehyung delivers a tiny bow in the middle of your conversation, rushing forth despite your protests. And a second later, you realise why.

A familiar voice, dulcet and clear, breathes against your ear. A lock of your hair blown into your face, you blink; your body immediately tenses when you feel his presence close.

He will never stop having this effect on you.

“Did I scare you?” Jungkook voices; when you look at him, he has his hands behind his back and his head angled.

Pretty.

“Did you want to scare me?” you ask back.

“Perhaps a little.”

You shrug a shoulder. “Then I shall just say yes. You are one scary man.”

You know that if you were alone, he’d wrap his arms around you, move you left and right. He’d plant pecks under your ears and on your neck, travelling up to your cheek to whisper how sweet he finds you.

But he does none of it here. His fingers surely twitch to reach out, but his self-control doesn’t waver; instead, he only chuckles and asks, “You won’t happen to agree to a dance if a scary man asked?”

“Hmmm…” you say, lifting a hand to his. “I will agree. But only because I must.”

An eye-roll later, he pulls you to the dancefloor, voicing a little, “Great.”

Once Jungkook entered the hall, you already heard the chatter quiet down. But when you move to the middle of the room elegantly, hands raised and smiling at whoever you pass, dead silence falls around you like a cloak.

If the doors weren’t heavy and the windows thick, you’d hear nature singing outside.

But you don’t shift your focus to the birds or the people or anyone else when you finally turn towards him and place a hand on his shoulder.

You have danced with him so many times, but… the very first dance designated to no one but you… such pressure.

Jungkook must sense your nervousness, because the palm on the back of your hand closes the gap between your bodies only barely. But you feel it; grateful for the softness when he says, “Keep looking at me. You and I, we’re all there is.”

You and I.

A unit formed in every life, you are certain.

“Yes,” you mumble the moment the strings emerge in music.

When the dance begins, you firmly lock your eyes with his as he demanded. The movements he pulls you in are graceful immediately; floating across the polished parquet floor overwhelms you for the first few seconds.

Careful to not step onto your intricate gown, you engage in slow, precise steps. It takes a moment until you’re used to the rhythm and the melody; and once you are, the breath you let out eases how you move.

“Too much?” Jungkook asks through the music.

You shake your head as the refined gestures continue, clutching his shoulder and hand tighter.

“No,” you admit, “just right.”

The steps are slow anyway — you can keep up with them. And his tender touch on your back, holding you cautiously, like a guardian, serves as a reminder of safety.

“What are you thinking?” he asks.

Nothing. Or everything.

“That…” you start, indulging in a graceful spin, beautiful twirls. “That you feel oddly human.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue; his thumb brushes over your gown. You feel the goosebumps right under its material.

“Did I not so far?” he wants to know.

“More like an idea,” you admit quietly. You wonder whether he can hear. “So this…” You move down to his arm, press into it. Holding him, in flesh and blood. “This feels real. And good.”

Your footwork synchronises, seamlessly transitioning from one step to another. An enchanting display of harmony and unity. The onlookers’ gaze is present, but you don’t register it much anymore.

“Yes…” Jungkook’s eyes radiate affection, communicate passion as he admits, “I think I understand what you mean.”

You flash a smile.

The atmosphere is serene, despite the tight gown and the crowd gathered around you. A minute later, more couples join you on the dancefloor — the sense of romance trickles through to other pairs, ultimately creating a spirited ambiance.

But you remain in your own intimate world with him, eternalising timeless love in each other’s arms.

Usually, it is demanded that lovers or dancers maintain a respectful distance between each other — but when everyone around you drowns in their own dance and the focus falls from you just a little, you can barely help it anymore.

The moment Jungkook’s hand pulls you a little closer, you let out a tiny gasp. Gravitate towards safety and his embrace. There is longing in his eyes and unspoken desire on his parted red mouth.

The arch of his upper lip invites you. And the tongue resting unmoving aches for you.

No one will ever provide such immense delight, contentment and protection.

Overwhelming happiness.

It feels like the two of you can stay connected like this until the end of your lives; and after that, transcend the idea of death.

Which reminds you…

“Jungkook,” you call.

“Yes.”

The dance nears its conclusion, so you hurry with your confession. Closing into the embrace, your movements become slower, more tender, and you say, “You asked me once… if I thought we’d find each other again if we were reborn.”

He remembers, because he nods immediately. Lets your hand go to put it under your ear. Who cares who watches?

“Yes?” he asks.

You swallow the clump in your throat, putting all affection in your words; a dramatic pause follows as the final notes echo, and eventually, you admit, “We would. I know we will.”

The music dies.

You don’t know what answer you expect from him when his gaze melts endlessly. He’s a puddle against you, bones liquifying as much as yours.

In this moment, you know he feels the overwhelming amount of devotion, too, but his words add to the rapid heartbeat behind your chest, “And I know that I’d fall in love with you each time.”

And that’s it.

You part from him, bow elegantly. You acknowledge the applause from spectators, grinning ear to ear; register one last, tender statement that he brings, for your ears only.

“I cannot wait for tonight to be over.”

Tonight ends three hours later — but tonight doesn’t truly end at all.

When the cheers sound outside the hall and you step into the expensive, elaborately decorated carriage, dusk has barely settled in.

The embroidered seats upholstered in rich fabrics feel soothing to you, like Heaven after all those hours of standing and walking around.

It’s actually done. You and him, married; a couple forever bound.

The event put you in a spotlight — but you can barely believe you’re a wife now.

Everyone is sending you off with bright smiles, waving cloths and shouting your names when the royal carriage finally moves. Some people point to the horses transporting you away; you understand. Their harnesses are beautiful.

Jungkook smiles as you wave to your family and strangers; and sometime during your departure, a hand pushes between your bodies to slide your fingers into it.

You throw a soft glance towards him. Expecting silence or a smile; but what awaits you instead are sober, self-aware words.

“I have never been celebrated like this,” he says.

Damn it.

Part of your heart breaks. The crowd outside lessens the more you leave the location. The growing quietude allows you vulnerability, passion as you tell him, “You look content.”

“I feel content.”

You nod. Look at the wide field and the setting sun when the carriage hits the path, embarking on a short journey.

Then, your eyes shift to the lavish embellishments and carvings inside the vehicle; they truly are pretty enough to command attention and respect. But here, barely anyone is around.

Now that you think about it, you remember why you chose such a far-away place to celebrate at all.

“Jungkook,” you say. You shift in the soft seat, cuddling closer to him until your shoulders touch. “You don’t need to be celebrated, you know?”

His gaze wanders to your delicate face. Your eyes are as big as his.

“Hm?”

“I think that… it means a lot more to be admired by a handful people than to be sucked up to by a thousand. Do you understand?”

You drift into this tone every now and then. It’s your way to scold and lecture him. But your voice and words never invalidate his feelings or make him feel and look stupid.

You have this way of expressing your thoughts and of making him understand.

A gentle tone that he can only nod to, but that makes him want to hold you close, too.

“Are you one of those handful people?” he asks, a bright smile making you cock an eyebrow.

You nod down to the hand that clutches yours and the overwhelming dress covering your body. Gesture towards your surroundings as you admit, “I honestly do not think so.”

A lopsided smirk. Wrinkles around his eyes. Tiny dimples over his lips and in his cheeks.

Your heart thaws.

Swaying with the movements of the carriage, you finally place your head on his shoulder. Jungkook immediately lets your hand go, slinging an arm around you and presses you close.

He feels good. Pleasant.

You can stay like this for an hour or two.

Which reminds you.

You’ve wanted to ask all day, so you spit out now, “Would you think we made the right decision?”

“Huh?” he voices, looking at your hair. “By getting married? I would hope s—”

“No. By moving away.”

“Do you… not want to?”

“That’s not it. I would follow you anywhere,” you let him know, staring ahead. Through a gap, you see the smooth road ahead. Entirely empty. “But I wanted to know what you think.”

Because the decision to leave the town and move into a large mansion hours away materialised only a few weeks ago. It’s the place he was supposed to wander to, the one he’d prepared before you drifted closer to him last year.

You were firmly against the idea at first — until he reassured you that he never used his uncle’s money for the foundation. For anything, for that matter.

It was family wealth; something his father left him when he died.

You contemplated for mere hours before you nodded; you truly didn’t care where you landed. Your family would be a little less than three hours away — you’d endure the voyage to visit them regularly.

And what else was holding either of you in the town?

Friends? Yes, perhaps. Jungkook maybe even less.

But pain is bound to that place; and you’re open to starting afresh.

Yet, you’re curious.

“You know,” Jungkook begins, “Junghyun was asking me the same. Back in the hall,” you feel his head nod, and his voice in his chest when your head drops against it, “he was discussing details with me. Having my things moved and the house decorated as we wish.”

“I am sure we will like it the way it is.”

“Yes, but… as my older brother, it’s his responsibility to worry.” He laughs. “Just formal things. It was no reason to delay the start of the party.”

You simper, moving a hand to his knee, and say, “I understand, though. My sister had a billion questions, as well. It must be scary to part from siblings you had close all your life.”

“Must be.”

“So… you still stand with your decision?”

“I do as long as you do, too.”

“Of course. A life away from pressure sounds delightful. I cannot wait to meet new people.”

Jungkook’s constant snicker is a melody to your ears; accompanied by a beautiful expression that you see once you lift your head again. Close to his lips, you beam, questioning sweetly, “What?”

“Your optimism and enthusiasm for humanity are remarkable.”

“That sounds like it’s a bad thing.”

“No,” he shakes his head immediately. “I admire it. Makes me want to kiss you.”

Your heart soars. What a mawkish, little confession; but you can’t help but feel faint.

With a hand on his thigh, fingers tapping against it teasingly, you raise an eyebrow, shrugging as you suggest, “Do it, you coward.”

But all he kisses is his teeth, taunting you, and you are close to protesting before he says, “Uh-uh. Rest now. You will not get much of it tonight.”

You puff out a mocking breath, attempting to push him away from you; but his hold around you is firm, amusing when he pulls you back in and kisses your temple.

His words may sound like a harmless joke; nothing new, considering how dual his personality tends to be.

But when you reach the big, white mansion, spacious enough to get lost in and prepare for the night…

You soon realise that he wasn’t exaggerating after all.

A light, earthy scent wafts towards you when you enter the chamber designated to you.

It surrounds you in layers; beeswax candles are set everywhere you look except near the sheets. You have never seen so much spent money in a room at once; and the luxurious, yellow candles aren’t the only indicator for wealth.

The curtains look heavy. The bed is high. Flowers stand on the small, round table in the corner and outside the window, handmade tapestry dipping the room in more royalty.

Jungkook, still at the threshold, asks, “What do you think?”

You look around. And then, you murmur, “It is… a lot, for sure.”

An understatement.

It’s beautiful. But a reminder of your status, too.

It’s where they — everyone — expect you to consummate the marriage, to seal the deal officially before diving into the trials and tribulations of love. The lush space you’re standing in the middle of is supposed to pull you into just the right mood.

But they don’t seem to know that you need none of this.

The rules of society hardly matter now — in fact, the intimacy that draws you together started long before you even knew you’d surely marry him.

And now that you’re here, greeted by warm, soft, burning light and rose petals strewn across the bed, you certainly do not think of the expectations on you.

Of what everyone awaits as he shuts the heavy door behind you, waving off the chaperones and maids and other staff. Of what people might be thinking right now as he wraps an arm around your waist.

Or of what they might be talking about tomorrow when he covers the skin of your face with his palms. As warm as the flames, tugging you close to him.

Accompanied by a placid voice that whispers, “I’m yours now. Officially yours.”

“And…” Your touch immediately slithers up his arm, lightly to his elbow when he leans in, inches closer. “I’m yours.”

And then, finally, he kisses the thirst off your lips wordlessly.

You still smell like flowers to him, taste like champagne. His senses jumble up when all of you mixes with the gentle breeze through the open window — whoever did that, thought things through.

He might have suffocated in the heat here; the summer’s and yours.

The flickering candlelight adds to the ambiance as you walk backwards, past it and towards the mattress.

Jungkook keeps pushing carefully, a tender mouth humming against yours. His lips are warm and soft, inviting and just right, like a key to its lock. Tongueless and sweet.

Your steps synchronise until you fall onto the satin sheets, still surrounded and trapped by your wedding dress. And as much as it allows, you shift backwards in the bed; and he follows like a predator.

Kneels on the high bed. Comes closer until he’s sitting in front of you.

Half laying on the bed, you look up at him. He’s as golden as ever; vibrant and beautiful, filled with adoration and disbelief. Your eyebrows lift in innocence; you inhale his features.

And that’s when something changes.

Has he seen something in your eyes, too?

“What are you thinking?” he asks again.

“Nothing,” you admit. It’s true. “Nothing at all. I am just happy.”

He nods; knuckles and the back of his fingers swiftly brush along your cheekbones. “You should be.”

You deserve it, he always says. And he’s worth it just as much, you counter.

So you ask, “Are you, too?”

A second hand on your other cheek. He lifts your face by your chin, tugging along your body until you’re facing him. You sit on your legs, your gown spread, and his knees move until you’re caged between his legs.

“I’d be such a fool if I wasn’t.” And coming from someone who’s lived his life in despair… This lets your heart grow thrice its size. “Look at you.”

He swipes your hair over your shoulder, glad your maids helped undo all braids. He would have tangled up your mane for sure — the pins and complicated knots would have ensured that.

All that holds your strands together now is a white, silken ribbon; one he finds at the back of your head, undoing it slowly. And all you hear is a little, “Pretty”, before he’s pulling at the strings of your gown, too, steadily.

Different from your own fingers when you imitate him, subtly quivering hands opening the buttons of his vest.

Noses touch when his face draws closer, but he doesn’t kiss you yet. Only brushes along your arm when your dress falls off, merely the corset and underwear remaining. The way his digits caress you makes you hold your breath.

How he tilts his head and places a featherlight kiss to your neck; then to your shoulder.

You shiver.

“You want this, yes?” Jungkook breathes against your skin; he must be seeing the goosebumps.

Half ticklish, half amused, you laugh — but when he doesn’t chuckle with you, you understand that he’s being serious.

Instead, he explains, “It was a tiring day. We can move this to tomorrow. We could talk now, or just…” He pecks a sensitive spot on your neck, and you recoil. “Go to bed.”

You don’t answer. You gulp when his soft lips skim your shoulder; your fingers reach to his hair, pulling him closer.

It's enough of an answer, but he still orders gently, “Speak now.”

But as the tip of his tongue ever-so-slightly touches your jaw, all you manage is a tiny, quiet, “Kook…”

“Hm?”

It’s a subtle hum, but it makes his mouth vibrate against you.

And you plead, “Please keep going.”

That green light is all he needs to kiss you again. More fervently this time, right from the start, crashing his rosy lips against yours.

You nearly fall back, but he holds you in place, pushing his tongue through the seam of your lips until it connects with yours. It’s hot and wet, skilled and diligent.

And he’s getting lost.

Drinking up your sounds, lapping up your taste. A hand at the small of your back, the other between your shoulder blades.

Barely breathing through your nose, you feel air leave your head; your face is burning up, and the breeze does not ease any of the fire.

He tastes like whiskey. A little like nature, and a lot like eternity.

You already miss all of it when he parts from you; his words and tone are impatient when he whispers, “Turn around.”

A brief glance throws a question at him. But placing all trust into his gentle palms, you oblige; pleasantly cared for when he brushes a finger along your back, undoes your corset.

You stare at the wall and the bed frame — despite this room and mansion’s cost, it looks too feeble for Jungkook’s nature. You don’t want to destroy your marital bed on the first night.

But…

You do.

He lets a hand wander over your tummy and your chest; halts over your breasts when the corset finally falls, squeezing just a little. And then, he brings it to your neck, fingertips pressing under your jaw lightly to push you back against his chest.

A kiss lands under your ear; your insides somersault when he praises, “You are gorgeous. So gorgeous.”

The compliment, lustful and raspy, affects you differently now than it did hours ago. At the wedding, with a safe distance between you and numerous pairs of eyes ogling at you, his statements made your heart jump.

But now, with his body against yours and a hand under your jaw, the organ shoots to the sky.

“You are,” you respond as you reach to his collar behind you, shakily mumbling, “take this off.”

And he, as an answer, rubs the hem of your long underwear between his free fingers; throws back, “You as well… Want to see all of you.”

Whatever is left, you strip out of bit by bit; your bodies never separate, soon bare, and you wonder how you managed to slip out of them without parting at all.

The community doesn’t realise it, but this is far from your first night with him — yet, all of this feels different. A little more humbling, a bit more timid, because this time, he’s your husband.

Husband.

He won’t become a fleeting memory — his body will keep changing. He’ll sport wrinkles decades later, the darkness of his hair fading to a grey one day.

But his heart won’t change. Neither will yours — relationships and touches might.

And you’ll witness all of what’s still uncertain to you; in a future you can’t see but that leaves you hopeful.

What an astounding realisation.

His touch is sweeter than before; and the eyes you see once he turns you again, watching you fall onto your back, look different, too.

You tremble — whether from the breeze or from him, you cannot say.

Somewhere in the depth of his pupils, you see a spiral. It keeps spinning endlessly; you want it to keep hypnotising you, but Jungkook doesn’t grant you more than a moment to glance at him.

You know that’s how tonight will play out — he will take his time. You’ll be here, under him for hours… even once he’s done, you know he won’t truly be done.

The blissful torture starts with a brief descend of his body. Kisses scatter along your torso. Giving into the usual automatic reaction, he stops at your tits for a second, sucking in your nipple before he licks a stripe between your breasts.

And then, tummy, waist and hips skipped, a quick shortcut to your cunt. You know what he’ll do. And it’s the worst, most enticing thing he can do.

You immediately wince under this touch, wriggling the lower body he pins back against the bed without a second thought. It’s a tiny action he has planned, but you already beg, “Don’t stop this time…”

And he, playfully oblivious and menacing as ever, looks up to you with big puppy eyes and hums, “Hm?”

“Jungkook—” you choke, slight protest in your voice; but not truly.

Because you still let him entangle his fingers with yours; don’t move away, allow him to drop low enough to inhale your scent. The tip of his tongue peeks out between his lips, and you watch as it leans to your clit in slow motion.

Just a short touch before he digs it between your folds and eventually flattens it to lick a languid stripe back up to your clit. He comes back to your pussy just once: wraps his mouth around one side, tugs at the fold gently and then lets it fall into place.

Already drenched and yearning for more.

But he’s evil — of course he doesn’t continue; instead, he’s back where your eyes sparkle in anticipation and frustration.

“What’s wrong?” he dares to ask, soothing your restlessness as he rubs a hand up and down your sides.

Filters thrown out, you spit, “Want more. Right the hell now.”

“...What do you want?”

“You,” you emphasise with a slight lift of your head.

He doesn’t resist when you place a hand on his cheek, another on the nape of his neck, and pull him in. His towering cock brushes against your legs for a moment, long enough for you to realise that he’s aching as much as you.

His stamina and patience last longer than yours — that is, until you twist the moment, working towards endless whining and begging from his side.

Which means… you need to do something.

You dart out your tongue to lick at his lower lip, and then add, “You. On my tongue.”

When he tenses, you feel it against your body. Pride floods your veins; you don’t know if he’ll ever get used to this. To the fact that you want him like this… or the fact that you can make him feel desired like this.

Relatable.

He is very much the reason for your newfound confidence, too.

But the fog you want to envelop him in won’t quite emerge just yet; Jungkook is developing his very own ideas in his whirling mind. And they’ll keep you trapped under him for now.

“Fine, then,” he only voices before you feel a sudden tug at your body.

You gasp when you find yourself inches down the bed, away from the bed frame that he shifts towards, pressing his back against it.

Craning your neck with an open mouth, you look up at him; he looks so much larger from this point of view. His length seems angrily firm from here; and he is broad, lean, hungry like a hunter in the jungle.

“The staff will laugh at me in the morning,” you murmur, licking your lips wet as he inches closer, “I will not be able to speak.”

“I’m afraid so.” Each thigh settles next to your face, and you take a deep breath at the sight hovering above you. “Might be a smile-nod-wave day then, I assume?”

You lift a hand, tickling his hardened balls with the tip of your forefinger. He reacts with the lightest groans immediately, leaning back from your touch and fisting his dick instead.

“A pleasant first day,” you tease.

You bite your lip and lift your head when he angles his cock. Not the most comfortable position, but at least it quenches your and his thirst.

Both your hands come up to the thick shaft he pumps, and the moment you touch his skin, he lets go. You move your head to the side when mere inches remain between your mouth and his length; a sad attempt to catch a few last breaths.

Because his legs are still in the way, his body ready to destroy; you want to grant him the same, lustful torment.

So you start moving your fingers up and down. You twist your wrist, caressing the entire shaft from tip to base, thumbing at the first glimpses of the leaking liquid.

“Fuck,” you hear from above. A single curse that stretches into a groan, impatient when you circle the sensitive head and brush along the wet slit. “Oh, fuck.”

Enduring too much, he brings a hand to your chin, moving your head back into position and then shifts a little again. For a moment, his knee hits your hair; a sharp pain spreads on your scalp, and you yelp.

An immediate apology sounds from above, legs backing away as he says, “Oh God. I need to learn to do this without hurting you.”

The pads of his fingers push against your head — he isn’t reaching the part that aches, but… you commend him for his intentions.

“I am sorry,” he murmurs; when you open your eyes, he’s shaking his head. In the faint light, you see the guilt in his eyes.

He is so incredibly sweet.

You catch his wrist gently, telling him, “I barely feel it anymore.” He still looks at you in utter worry; as though he cut off one of your limbs. “I really don’t!” you promise; and then, you angle your head again, and add, “Now put it in, dear Lord of mine.”

That’s what breaks him.

Jungkook can still not take the formality of his life seriously. It’s a mere title for him — if his and your wealth didn’t bestow such luxury, like this mansion, upon the two of you, he might care even less.

So it’s not a surprise to you when he rolls his eyes and laughs, voicing a tiny, “Fool.”

You don’t respond; instead, you finally open your mouth, tongue wide out. He moves the still rock hard cock that slapped back against his tummy down until the head floats over your shiny lips.

Unabashed, you push your head off the bed just a little, lifting your tongue to a mole. And you don’t fall back onto the mattress until his balls dangle in your face, his veiny hands pressing his cock down to tap it against your already open lips.

And then, he’s finally pushing it in—

“Mmmh,” you make.

You anticipated this today; the moment you stepped into that big, fancy carriage, riding away from the bigger, fancier wedding location, you knew you wanted to end tonight like this.

Momentarily, you twirl your tongue around the tip; you’re used to the slight salty taste. Not just once, you’ve swallowed every tiny bit of it… but you are more than certain that he won’t let you today.

Your chest rises hard when he shoves in more of him, along the flat of your tongue, back to your throat. Already gagging, you feel your eyes water.

A glance up to him, and… there it is.

That expression.

The furrowed eyebrows, the single drop of sweat along his temple, travelling to his jaw. The concentration in his eyes and the flexing abdominal muscles. Parted, pink lips; the lower one quivering just a little.

You want to speak, but it’s impossible with your mouth stuffed.

So you only hum, vibrating around him; and instead of you, he says, “Leg-tapping when it becomes too much, yes?”

You nod. The action forces his cock in and out again, creating friction, and he moans with a closed mouth before his hips draw back — and then in again.

He fucks into you as much as you can take, allowing himself to lean forwards to balance his body. A hand presses into the mattress next to your waist; even with shut eyelids, you feel his arm tremble.

Your nose might break if he falls now.

But your worries mean nothing — because for a full minute and longer, he holds his weight. Even manages to travel his other hand to your tits; much expected.

He pushes in, stealing your breath and then moves the flesh in circles. Nimble fingers take a nipple captive to pinch, and you mewl around his hardness. Tears from behind your eyelids immediately spill out.

It took a lot less today to make you cry.

And he loves it.

Because he moves back up, never leaving your tits; squeezing hard enough for you to groan again. The vibration of your sounds drives him insane, and he halts, pulling his hips back before he snaps them back in, reaching as far as your breath control allows.

A free palm wipes at your cheeks, and he remarks, “This is only the beginning. Do not sob the sheets wet.” He lets out a shaky breath when your tongue draws patterns on his dick. “Shit… I am far from done with you.”

Oh.

God, the cocky warning — you shouldn’t find it as alluring as you do.

You doubt anyone has ever had such an ungodly wedding night before.

Because most people barely understand their partner’s desires and needs just yet.

The fact that this is the one of another thousand times dawns on you again — apart from the romance of tonight, you can’t help but think that you want him stuck in the back of your throat forever.

“No complaints. No whining,” Jungkook speaks on, still fucking into you in smooth motions. “Despite the tears, you do not stop unless I tell you to, huh?”

His voice is especially deep right now. You can’t do anything but nod like his private whore.

“Thought so,” he says. His signature statement.

You will die. But you cannot die alone.

So you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, pushing your head into the bed and letting it bounce back repeatedly. He feels so good, so firm inside you. Using your mouth, using your body; holding your tits to keep himself in place.

You gag loudly when one of his snaps ends up reaching too deep, producing enough saliva for it to trickle down your face. Your tears might not wet the sheets yet, but your drool will.

And just when you inhale through the nose, blinking away the stray tears that keep falling into your hair, he pulls back.

Spit connects your soaked mouth and the shiny girth; in the light of the candles, you see the popping veins, coated in your drool, so beautifully.

Jungkook wipes the obscenity off your mouth, separating the thick string and hunches over to separate your legs and coat your already wanting cunt in your own spit.

When he rounds your body on his knees, you slide your body up the bed again; this is it for losing your voice for now. He wants to move on.

Swamped digits paint a dirty trail up your stomach, and then come back to your swollen nub between your legs. You angle one leg, allowing him easier access. It’s a subtle movement, but he enjoys every single motion that suggests readiness; suggests craze.

He takes your face between the fingers of his other hand firmly, a thumb running along your lower lip.

“You are so much filthier than I always expected you to be.” When you look up in submission, he nods towards your gaze and adds, “You might just be deceiving me with those pretty little eyes of yours, no?”

You don’t get a word out. You wish you could throw out snarky remarks like this, but you can’t. Not because you cannot think of one.

But because your throat feels battered.

You gulp.

Take in the thumb when he pushes it between the seam of your lips. He presses it onto your tongue, spreading your own taste along the wet muscle. And then, his body is descending, mouth aligning with yours; and suddenly, he’s kissing you again.

His thumb retreats, sloppy sounds echoing off the walls. The kiss is passionate yet wild, renders you breathless but longing for more.

A wish your mind whispers in vain.

Because he moves to your jaw, French kissing it before it’s your neck’s turn. Teeth trace your veins until they stop –– and when he bites into your flesh harshly, your back arches off the bed.

Your little whine is melodious to his ears; he knows you love it just as much.

You have a slight fondness for his harshness — for the tiny pain he inflicts on you. You’ve worried him one too many times.

But then again, you always assure that it riles you up, too.

And who is he to not cater to you every whim?

His fingers caress your folds delightfully, never dipping in. You keep lifting your hips towards him, much to his entertainment; and to make it worse, he admits, “I wish I could fuck you right now. I know I could slip just in.”

“Y–you wish?” you stutter, hearing a hum from him before you say, “Then do it.”

“You know I won’t.”

“Of course…”

You nearly screech when the unoccupied hand darts up to your neck, pushing you down into the bed. This is the point of no return — an animal fully awakened.

Eventually parting your pussy, rubbing along its length yet never dipping into the entrance, he asks, “This is so… Do you feel that?”

You feel him. You feel all of what he gives.

The finger prodding at your hole. The feeling of utter, embarrassing wetness.

“Here.” His soiled hand comes back to your mouth before he tells you to lick and spit onto it. The palm cups your pussy a moment later; and without a warning yet slowly, he drives in one finger. “How is that?”

You wind on the bed as half his body moves to nearly touch your torso. His face is right above yours, lips almost kissing as you whisper, “Good. Not good enough…”

“We have the entire night.”

“Life,” you correct.

A quiet chuckle reverberates against your mouth, and he simply voices, “Yes. Life.”

As another finger gets added to the fun, he buries them to his knuckles; you hear the squelching sound, feel the heat in your face that it causes. You’re always so shamefully ready for him.

One of your hands slams onto the bed next to your body when he pulls his digits out and rams them back in. The action is hard, but so agonisingly slow.

Something velvety rips under your touch. You look at your misdeed, barely choking out a tender laugh when you see what it is.

Jungkook stops and follows your gaze; you hiss when he pulls out, but giggle again when he asks, “What happened?”

“These,” you say, lifting the torn rose petal. “Did you order the staff to put these here?”

Jungkook shakes his head, reaching for the petal to feel its softness between his fingers. He smiles down at you, amused by the temporary distraction. You are one of a kind.

“Of course not,” he tells you, “but they might have wanted to add to the mood.”

“Well… It was not such a bad idea.”

“No?”

“I think you will like fucking me on th—”

“Don’t,” he warns. He inches back from you, as if to escape. Only when he settles between your legs, do you understand that he isn’t running away but diving deeper into you. “Do not say that or I will batter this,” he pinches your clit just a little, “gorgeous cunt of yours.”

“You keep threatening,” you challenge. “Empty promises, if you ask me. Why do you not go ahead and prove that your words aren’t just…” You watch as he forces your legs apart. Sporting a hard jaw, he looks down at you dangerously. “Blank.”

“Blank, yes?” Jungkook repeats. A lopsided smirk graces his features as he falls onto his tummy, breathing against your pussy. “Why don’t you give me a couple of minutes?”

“I shall give you— oof.”

He breaks your attempt at a coherent sentence when he places a sweet peck against your clit. Harsh fingers dig into your thighs, lifting them off the bed and onto his shoulders. You cross them behind his head, trap him there.

Holding eye contact, he bends his arms under your legs, gripping them at the beginning of your thighs to hold you in place. His fingers are long enough to reach your pelvis and nub.

No escape, is what he means.

You don’t want one anyway.

Not when he parts your folds and connects his flat tongue with your dampness. Moves to push back the skin around your clit; then circles over it so fucking gently, as he likes to do.

“What?” he mumbles against you, knowing very well what your moans mean.

Or what your shut eyes, the throw of your head to the side signify. How transparent you are when you crumple up the sheets until it hurts. Destroying a few more rose petals.

Yes, he wants to pound you into the sunset on those breathtaking flowers.

His head comes up again and he moves closer. You let your legs fall against his back gently; your juices coat a bit of his chin when he looks at you and says, “You really do taste like heaven every time, do you not?”

He nudges your clit. Whispers a little, “Outrageous.”

And then, he buries himself back into your arousal. Drinks you up, laps up all he causes. The tip of his big nose keeps tickling your bundle of nerves, doing absolute wonders, and you close your leg harder around his head before he pries them open again.

A rapid flitting of his tongue and another messy kiss follow before he looks at you in warning, never leaving your pussy as he shakes his head, as if to say to not do this.

But said shake moves his lips and tongue, too. Elicits goosebumps and another, “More.”

You feel too fucking worked up.

You catch a glimpse of wet, glistening lips, working diligently; and you don’t know what it is about that picture. About that red mouth enveloping your sex…

But it pushes you over the edge fast.

Because when his thumb returns to circle your clit and you imagine what the skilled movements of his lips and tongue must look like — the knot loosens.

“M’good,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by your leaking pussy. “Mmphh—”

He licks you through your high; slaps your clit gently, forcing your back off the bed. Like a snake, you wind and wiggle, but the arms around your legs hold you firm against him.

Until the waves subside.

One last peck.

A golden body comes to tower over you again. His bicep flexes deliciously, his jaw sharp; his girthy length still stands tall, his tip angrily red.

Every ridge of his member waits to penetrate your pulsating walls — but for now, he only shoves three fingers into you for a second. You’re sensitive, wincing, still calming down.

Lost in your head.

But you still hear it when he tuts, “So wet. Slides in just like that.”

“Fucking do it, then,” you curse between rapid breaths, reaching for his wrist to pull him in. “Do it, you coward.”

Ah. Yes.

It lights something in him — you know.

Not because it provokes him, but because he finds it hot.

You’re under his mercy and still spitting out such remarks. Disguising your desires and impatience as bickering.

It is irresistible. And so adorable.

“May I? You still look…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. Only lets his gaze wander up and down your body; and when you look at him, you grit your teeth, snarling through them, “You may.”

“Oh goodness. Fine. Let’s feed you then.”

You can’t help but let out an amused huff, accompanied by a roll of your eyes.

Wiping the damp tresses from your cheeks, he separates your legs again, wrapping a fist around his dick anew. He leads it down, slaps it against your pussy, rubbing up and down.

Your folds encase the tip, but he doesn’t push inside just yet. Waits a little instead, bringing back the curved, heavy cock to your pelvis.

You hate him.

Even more so when he finally does push in, only a couple inches. Just the head. And then opts back out. Already playing with your nerves, he dares to say, “I could come just like that.”

To which you warn, “Stop it.”

Humongous, brown eyes look at you in innocence. Like he was lost in another dimension and has fallen back into reality…

And then, he finally says, “I apologise. I will attempt to be serious.”

But you’ve had enough. You’ve been doing this for long; enjoying it for so long. But it’s your turn now—

“Lay down,” you command.

The order is sudden. You reckon he was about to wreck you inside out; but the finality in your voice is nearly scary, authoritative. Freezes his movements and pulls a short, “Huh?” out of him.

“Lay down,” you repeat. “You are driving me insane. Lay down, I need to…”

Perhaps it’s the readiness in your voice. Or maybe, the fact that his mind is puzzling together the pieces… because the way you look at him — he knows you want to get in action.

For just a little at least.

So he obliges. Nods and then drops next to you, looking up at you as you straddle his body.

You settle around his knees as you make yourself comfortable, eyes glued to the unswerving hardness. When you lean in to touch it, it jerks against your palm, sensitive to the touch… deprived.

Fully aware of the answer, you ask, “What was that?”

“You know what it was. Go easier on me today.”

“As you did on me? You like to play around, do you not, Lord Jeon?”

He is infuriating, truly. Just because he gives you these gigantic eyes, begging with that large, slick cock, he thinks you’ll falter, doesn’t he?

Well. Not a quite stupid thought.

You have waved the white flag before. You know you will this time, too, because all you’re working towards is…

Unfiltered lust; a final connection of your bodies, after all. And he just won’t give it to you, because yes, Lord Jeon likes to play.

You bring both hands to his dick, pressing your palms lightly into his balls before rubbing them up his length. The tender massage elicits a deep, intriguing groan out of him; the way he throws his head back is beautiful.

That’s what he usually sees. The grasping of sheets and the arching of backs.

So pretty when his hourglass body pleads for more.

“What do you want, Kook?”

With effort, he sneaks his fingers onto your hand. Moves it along his shaft, a little harder and faster, and touches his head with his thumb.

Fucked out and breathless, he whispers, “Touch me more.”

“Touch you where?”

Once more, his fingers grab onto the tip, lifting it off his tummy as his strained voice requests, ”Here.”

“Like this?”

You circle the tip again. He loves when you do — more than once, you’ve seen him explode by hand action only. Such bliss.

“Mhmmm, no—” Jungkook says, opening his eyes once to look at you.

His mouth forms an ‘O’, and he pushes out irregular breaths. Little beads of sweat form on his forehead.

“No?” you ask.

“Not enough is… what I wanted to say.”

Fuck, he’s delicious like that. You won’t be able to hold back as long as you might like.

But you’ll try.

Intentionally, you trap your lip with your teeth when he touches your waist. You do him one better; bring the palm to your tits to cover one, simultaneously bending over to latch onto his neck.

You feel the squeeze when you leave a wet kiss on that pretty mole of his, making yourself home as you test his limits. Jungkook isn’t as much into neck kisses as you are — you know that.

But he’s into impatience and torture.

Like the one you provide when your tummy rubs against his cock, rolling your hips over his legs; your cunt feels the flexing of his thighs. You know he’s imagining far worse — or better — than mere grinding.

“You are more cruel than me, I need you to know,” he says, but you cannot be bothered by the beseeching tone in his statement.

Instead, you deliver one brief kiss onto his lips and lean back again. Gather spit in your mouth and lift his cock towards you, letting the blob drop onto the slit. And then, you rub the pad of your thumb over it, spreading out your saliva.

He groans, nails digging into your tits so hard that you suck in air sharply, nearly choking. The touch drops to your hips, and you smile, tell him, “Sensitive much?”

Jungkook laughs; it’s cute and quiet. So endearing.

Different from his words, though.

“Just wait, you minx. Just wa—”

“What was that?”

He must not have expected your body to drop so low. For your lips to enclose the bright tip, eliciting hisses and sounds you can’t quite identify.

“Enough now,” he snarls through gritted teeth. God.

He will split you in two — you already know.

“Fine. You are right,” you say, “I have had enough, as well.”

Which seems to relieve him.

Because his body relaxes, the rippling muscles unflexing. You shake your head at his neediness before you stop again — fuck, you must look exactly the same when he has his way with you.

Good. Enough.

You mount him further, shifting forwards. Carefully, you take his ready cock into your hand, putting inches between your bodies to lead the hot shaft to your throbbing cunt.

And when you do… the familiar feeling of stretching you out returns in full glory.

Another phenomenon you will never get used to.

It burns for a moment, but pleasure washes the pain away all too soon. Your dripping core, ready since the night began, might be a reason for that.

Because after the initial splitting, it’s smooth sailing. Long, never-ending sailing, though.

Your legs tremor as you allow him to stuff you to the brim. You sink and sink until you’re sitting on your throne, ripped apart inside out.

His heavy breathing matches yours when he whispers, “Go on.”

As expected, he reaches to your ass. Jiggles it a little, creating a movement against his firm balls. His lips are dry again, and he delivers a long, languid lick to them, seeking your attention.

“You are too big,” you tell him. You can barely breathe.

“You have said that before,” he teases. Now that you’re wrapped around him, he has you at his mercy. Almost. “Do you need help?”

“No!” you defend, placing your hands against his toned chest. “No.”

“Good. Then go on, I beg of you—”

The words are stuck in his throat when you move. Slowly pulling away before falling back onto him. Your eyebrows crease, your body burning hot.

In your haze, you bring your thumbs to his nipples, rounding them before pinching them slightly. It cannot be an intense touch, but Jungkook still hisses; you move to his shoulders, pressing his body down.

“Jungkook…”

“I know—”

“Fuck, I…” you croak, looking down with a shuddering lower lip. “I would let you do anything to me.”

“Is that so?”

God. You shouldn’t have said that.

“Will you let me help you, then?” he tries; he’s slier than he looks, that man. Annoyingly cooing, he slaps your ass hard, and then says, “You look so exhausted, darling.”

Your face heats up more than before.

Exasperating.

You lift your body, drop again. And when your legs threaten to give in, eyes rolling back at the intrusion of the gracious package, you give up eventually.

No. He feels too good to move on your own. You keep buckling.

So you finally pant out your exhaustion, and say, “Help me, then… Fuck, do it.”

And it seems he doesn’t need more than that.

He grabs onto your arms that balance your weight, pulling them away from his chest and to his head. You fall face forwards, almost slamming into him, but catch yourself midway.

Which does nothing, because a moment later, as you bury your fingers in his hair, he tugs you flush against him, wrapping one strong arm around your body without a single gap to escape.

“Hold onto me,” he says, and you do. Ready for your mind to splinter when his hold nearly crushes your body. “You would let me do anything to you, huh?”

Shit.

He jerks his hips up… slams into you recklessly.

You let out an uncontrolled whine. Spread your legs, fucked up when he grips one of your thighs and bruises your flesh. Only to then whack your ass again, helping his motions as he moves it up and down.

“You fucking knew what you were saying,” he breathes, and you press your lips into a line, though never able to suppress your moans. “My cock to tear you apart… that’s what you want me to do to you, is that not fucking right?”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Jungkook—”

“Say it,” he demands, pounding into you from below. Fucking hell, he reaches so deep within you. You feel all of him; every single vein, every damn rim. “Say that you are a brat on full purpose.”

“I… I am,” you admit, your voice loud, driven insane by the relentless plunges from the start. Air is sucked out of you when he lifts your head by your hair, grunting when you clench around him. “I wanted you… your cock to ruin me, I—”

Words dwindle.

That’s it. That’s what you needed.

The start of oblivion.

Because when the heat builds, your body weakens more. And when he notices, he pulls your head close — you let him.

The kiss he plants against your lips is hard, his moans loud enough for you to assume he’s ready to let go. But he’s pounding into you, the way he did the very first time and a lot of times after. His stamina is incredible — you know you aren’t done yet.

For a moment, his thrusts are enough for you to hold onto him to not bump against the bed frame. The eagerness and friction makes you drool.

Because God—

His cock truly fits into you perfectly. Every bit penetrates your walls so wonderfully, the ideal curve massaging against the harsh, walnutty spot.

Your eyes roll back into your head.

“You—” Jungkook starts. His body is sweaty against yours, burning. “You’ve never been so drenched, my love.”

You will never get used to this. To him. To every name he calls you.

Be it sweetheart, love, angel or slut.

You’ll be anything for him.

Your mouth hangs open, your fingers holding onto his bicep. Delirious, you beg once more, like a mantra, ”More.”

Which he grants immediately. Propels his thick length into you with punctured thrusts, making your tongue dart out. You must look so deranged — and once you realise, you close your mouth again, pressing it into his broad shoulder.

A moment later, his hand pushes against your scalp. Grabs a patch of your hair tightly, tugging a little as he pounds into you; you think he’s about to scold you for muffling your sounds—

But when he speaks, you realise that your man has tired himself out. Poor boy. Always outdoing himself.

Because he says more to himself than to you, “Not yet. Cannot finish yet…” Of course not. You can already not walk anymore — not that you still won’t take more of him, though. “Turn around for me again. Hands against the frame.”

And you do. Hiss when you feel the loss, your pussy empty; the muscles of your inner walls still contract.

But he doesn’t let you suffer for too long — as soon as you’ve spread your legs, hands pressed against the cushioned frame, a heavy hand lands on your ass. He squeezes the flesh a little too hard, out of control when he pushes back in to the hilt.

Your body weakens.

He feels… so fucking good.

You cannot believe you married him. That this very man loves you. That he will spend every night, every day between those walls with you, coaxing moan after moan, high after high out of you.

Shit, this cannot be real.

You feel his pelvis against your ass when he’s slipped in. Easily, effortlessly; no hindrance and no issues.

For all he knows, you could take his cock and all of his fingers at once. You’re a waterfall down there.

“I am…” he begins. He looks down to where you connect, spreading your ass cheeks for a better view. “I am all the way in like this.”

You feel it… not an inch untouched.

“I know, I…”

He interrupts, “Does it feel good?”

So good.

Other women would sell their souls to spend each filthy moment with him. Stupid intrusive thought, but you sincerely hope he’s never made anyone feel the way he makes you feel. And vice versa…

“Mhmmmphhh, fuck… yes,” you manage, wiggling your ass to feel more of him.

It triggers a reaction from him; because pretty much automatically, he fucks into you once. Hears your sweet, broken sounds. More consequent strokes, more desperate, infinite, cute noises.

You never shut up. Not in bed, not outside; you will keep him entertained until the end of love and life.

Fucking hell, he adores the fuck out of you.

How could he not? How could he not with such a delicate soul holding his heart?

Keeping him close to you; locking yourself in his chest; emanating support, affection and endless courage. Being with him meant enduring cruel whispers — and you fought through all of it.

”Those who fear or disrespect you, simply do not know you.”

That’s what you always say.

And now you’re here — still with him, in his very grip, never running away but always running towards him.

Lucky. He is so fucking lucky.

He leans forwards to kiss your back, fucking into you again. A little less harsh now, though his pace is slowly picking up. And just when he’s about to straighten his stance again, you say, “Touch me, please.”

Gladly.

Jungkook wraps an arm around your tits, lips back to your shoulders. Wet kisses planted against them, you moan, delighted by the ablaze nerves, the way he knows exactly which spots to touch.

And slowly but surely, he’s piledriving into you. You jolt forwards each time until he softens his pace — and then back to heavy panting when he finds his energy again.

“Jungkook, oh my G—”

“I know. I know, sweetheart, just…”

Just what?

You don’t know. Your screams overshadow his words, eat them up.

And your yelling only intensifies when he pushes your legs together, indulging and drowning in the beautiful sound that falls out of you so suddenly.

It’s new. Mind-numbing.

Your feeble arms give in and your upper body falls, leaving your ass in the air. His hand snakes to the front, touching your clit lightly; and when he sees you in this very position, an idea forms in his mind.

“I think,” he starts. You’re still heavy breathing, only registering bits of what he’s uttering. “I know something you might enjoy.”

Through your daze, you ask, “...What?”

“We can try…”

And then, he’s gently pushing you down, flat onto your stomach before pulling your bottom back up a little. The cock that half slipped out moves in again; your cunt is aching by now, but keeps demanding more.

And… with the promise he just delivered, you fear for its life.

Once he’s bottomed out once again, his hands settle on your ass. He closes your legs around his shaft, and then moves until his own thighs trap your body; pulling out slowly and then all the way in again.

And suddenly—

Every untouched spot, every nerve inside you burns up.

The lack of a gap between your legs feels like a miracle. The ridges of his cock penetrate you in the most effective way you have ever felt, and the silky, soft sheets rubbing against your clit offer further stimulation.

All of it combined… you think you lose your mind.

“Oh God,” you mewl, fingers immediately grabbing your pillow.

And then, you hear him ask, “Good?”

“I… oh, I—”

“I thought so.”

You’re baffled. If he wasn’t fucking you up like this, you’d widen your eyes in shock, study the science and magic behind this position. Instead, you only spit, “...How did you…?”

“No space,” he immediately answers through huffs, “more… friction. You can let go now, angel.”

And like that, he continues wrecking you. A little harder with time, but calculated and carefully, feeling all the warmth between your walls. He kneads your ass, parts it, watches how the slick length disappears… and reappears…

So wet. So shiny. You are so incredibly soaked.

And the view. Fuck. Fuck, does that look—

“I wish you could see this,” he says through your cries, shaking your head when your nether lips spread wide. “Gorgeous.”

More rubbing against the sheets and rose petals — you are losing your goddamn mind. But then he creates a gap between the mattress and you eventually, starting to draw regular patterns around your clit.

And that’s it.

That’s fucking it.

Your moans grow in volume, brief but effective, dangerous to him. High-pitched as he fucks you closer to your high; and then, the orgasm that finally rolls over you, blinds you for a full minute.

Your head starts circling around its own axis; if you were standing now, you’d fall over for sure.

In violent waves, you unwind hard, sounds muffled when his hand reaches to your mouth and covers it for a couple of seconds. Then, his fingers wander down, rolling over your lower lip as you call syllables of his name.

The first time with him, you tainted the bed. Internally, you’re still sending apologies to Jiyoo.

This time, your bed remains a little drier, and yet, his cock is coated in arousal. And your ass is bruised when he slaps it one more time, uttering, “You sounded more beautiful than ever.” He moves to your ear, nibbling your earlobe, “Did you hear?”

“No,” you mutter with a feeble shake of your head. “You left me too busy seeing stars.”

He titters, brushing a comforting palm over your back.

His cock remains steady and hard inside you until you’re calmer; so when he pulls out and helps your trembling body turn around, you keep your legs apart. Fully expecting him to keep going.

But instead, he brings his veiny hand to his veinier cock, starting to pump as he aims for your stomach.

And when you’ve realised his intentions, you shake your head hastily and immediately, voicing, “No. Put it back in.”

Which makes him stop in motion — confusion spreads on his visage, his shaky voice fucked out when he asks, “What?”

You reach to his dick, leading the tip to the spot under your belly button. Your entrance is too far away, so you suggest quickly, “Keep going.”

He is still puzzled.

Says, “But you are done.”

“And? You are not.” You wait a moment. Let the information sink in… and then, something in his eyes lights up. You nod in affirmation, once again pleading, “Please, put it in and finish.”

Though, he’s not yet done arguing.

“Are you…” He shakes his head. “We can wait. It might be risky.”

“Yes, I know.” You understand. It’s why you practised so much care this past year. You found it hard to stay apart — but in hindsight, you were lucky nothing happened. But now… “I want this. I do not care about the… consequences unless you do. Please, Jungkook.”

Perhaps because you’re married now, and it’s bound to happen one day. You want this.

And it seems he has been on the same page as you for a while — because the moment you mumble the confession, he starts glowing. As if he waited for this.

Melting and in love, he moves back, shifting his cock back to your pussy. The head pushes in easily once again, and he demands, “Say that again.” Inch by inch, he moves in. “Say my name like that again.”

You feel stuffed.

Groaning, with a thrown back head, you hardly manage, “Kook…”

“Keep saying it.”

The word keeps coming out with difficulty when you obey — the arms that wrap around you feel safe. Intense, pushed under your body, palms on your shoulder blades.

Like you’re his anchor.

You cup his tender face, touching his lips, and then pull him into tonight’s possibly one last kiss.

His breath is hot against yours, his rhythm faltering when you widen your legs. You clench on purpose, and he gasps against your lips; you keep kissing him, keep him there. Breathless.

And he mumbles with his mouth on yours, “Y–feel so good—”

You respond with another tender kiss. Seeking his tongue before you switch to a dozen pecks. Telling him, “And you.”

“Pretty…”

Nonsensical words fall out of him; he can barely see you right now. Too focused on how you feel, on how tight your walls feel whenever you clench.

He’s working towards the end — and you help him as you say, “Jungkook… darling. Let go.”

And paired with how you push your hand through to your pussy, closing your folds tight around his cock to make them tighter, you don’t think he needs a lot more.

You raise your hips to him, and he grips your waist hard; pumps into you with hard, pointed strokes. No resistance, gliding into you swiftly, broken calls of your name following, eyes squinted shut, mouth open, sweat wandering down—

Jungkook groans so deeply you feel his chest vibrate against yours; balls deep inside you until—

He finally spills. Shaking. So vocal.

Just once, he pulls out, and then pushes in again with a moan. Empties himself entirely and then lingers… stays until the hardness subsides.

He places one delicate kiss against your swollen, bruised lips; throws a sweet gaze towards you, pushing your hair back. And when endurance finally falters, he collapses half on you.

His breaths are still heavy and stagnant; his heart beats wild against your equally unsteady one. And through exhaustion, you ask, “Are you alright?”

“Mhm.” You card your fingers through his dark, damp mane. Soothe his fatigue along with yours as he murmurs, “Just can’t move. I apologise.”

“I cannot move, either. My legs feel numb,” you say.

You laugh, and he follows with his own breathy chuckle. He kisses your shoulder and praises, “We did well.”

“It was wonderful. Please do applaud my final idea.”

His snicker grows a little louder at your commanding, proud tone, but he doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, silence lingers for a moment, comfortable until you state, “You are getting softer inside.”

“Yes,” he confirms, “it… feels strange.”

Oh. What?

Does it…?

For all you could guess, you thought he knew exactly what such a phenomenon would feel like. Carefully, shielding your heart and your mind, you ask, “Yes, I… but it was not the first time for you, was it?”

With all those silent, hidden affairs, he must have done everything already, for sure…

Guess you are lucky that nothing more beyond temporary intimacy happened with other women, either. You do not want a child standing at your threshold one d—

“It was,” he interrupts your thoughts. Oh… you did not expect this. “This was my first time doing this. Very new.”

“I…” You hesitate. Lick your lips, staring up at the ceiling. The candlelight is dimmer now, though just a little. The expensive wax still burns well. “I did not think I would see you experience something for the first time.”

It is a risky statement. Not very appropriate for a wedding night.

But he reacts to it perfectly; lets your insecurities fade bit by bit, filling you with fondness and hope as he lifts his head. He looks at you tenderly; he has those permanent stars in his eyes that never die.

“No?” he whispers. He tucks your hair back, though gravity pulls it back to the bed. Places a palm on your cheek. “Only everything.”

Your pupils shake a little, and you lift your eyebrows with the question, “What?”

He sighs, as though trapped in a dream. The pure, unfiltered devotion is apparent in every touch and embrace.

When he tilts his head, tired eyelids almost shut. Yet, keeps looking at you, memorising you for the moment; as if he’s not yours for eternity. When he smiles, Jungkook-esque crinkles surface around his eyes; dimples in his cheeks.

All of his emotions are visible at that moment.

You did not expect he’d ever experience something for the first time with you — only everything.

Like,

“I have never been in love like this.”

It’s the lovely breeze through the open window that wakes Jungkook on the first morning.

The shiver forces his eyes open slowly, still sleep-drunk and exhausted. Yesterday’s socialising and late night activities truly thrashed his body and soul.

He will need a few days to recover from it all. And he’ll need you.

This honeymoon might just be ideal to wind down from the last days and the past year; the idea of your words, your lips and your body so ultimately close trigger a spark in his chest.

Only right now…

You’re not there when he reaches to the other side.

You waking and getting up before him is a rare occurrence. And considering how he bent and tossed you around last night, he didn’t think you’d slip out of your dreams before noon.

But. No.

The room is empty. And the search for you is taxing.

Not because he is mad at you or anything, but because the mansion proves too huge. With the rest of his family around and years that allowed familiarisation, the prior estate started feeling small to him at some point.

Nevermind that it was probably larger than this one. But the lack of knowledge of these corners and rooms have his head spinning.

He clings to his robe as he feels the chaperone's steps behind him, other staff greeting him with a bow, his title and his name. The smile he flashes immediately garners everyone’s sympathy, but the question in his eyes never falters, either.

“Have you seen her today?” he keeps asking.

An alarming number of rejections follow, and just when he reaches the main staircase on the first floor again, does someone point towards the open balcony overlooking the garden.

Stupid.

Should’ve thought of this earlier.

With a thankful nod, he steps into the summer morning; the sun isn’t as high as he expected just yet — it cannot be noon yet.

And there you are — hunched over the railing, bent beautifully. Your hair flutters in the gust peacefully, and for a moment, he halts right at the threshold.

Is he going to be greeted by such a sight every day?

With summer blooming in front of you and inside him. Picturesque, unreal.

The smile creeping onto his face is a pure reflex; and the way his body moves towards you automatic.

You feel his touch on you before you hear his steps. Two arms sneak around your waist, and you straighten your posture a little. His chin settles on your shoulder, and he sounds deep and groggy when he says, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” you mumble back, “I apologise for leaving. Did not want to wake you.”

“Don’t apologise for that,” Jungkook remarks, his last word swallowed by a yawn. He blinks away the morning tears. “You should rather apologise for making me wander the mansion like a ghost.”

You laugh. “I should indeed. I worried I wouldn’t find my way back either.”

He looks over your shoulder, down to the flowers and the garden. Suggests, “Maybe we should put a ladder here. Climb down to face the entrance without struggling around half a dozen staircases.”

“Sounds like a foolproof way to break your bones.”

“Foolproof, at least. Do you have a better idea?”

“Hmmm,” you hum, thinking, craning your neck and closing your eyes when he sways your bodies and kisses your jaw. “We could pin signposts at every corner in the house.”

Jungkook cackles against your neck. “A beautiful way to brag about our wealth, isn’t it?”

“Beautiful, at least.”

“Or,” Jungkook voices, a hand under your breasts, pulling you in, “we could just stay in bed.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“I fear you will have to work at some point. You might not be a Duke, but you are responsible for the little village now,” you say.

That was the agreement. That’s what he and his brother settled on. The two of you would move, but in return, to make himself useful, Jungkook would finally take up a few responsibilities.

Like tending to the village you see from here, far down. Quiet and serene.

Jungkook nods, agreeing, “Yes. But we are on our honeymoon right now.”

You sigh when his kisses continue, lips ridiculously soft and plush against your warm skin. You put a palm over his hand, leading it to the swell of your tits until his thumb brushes the clothed flesh.

And then, you say, “You do make that apparent, yes.”

“Apologies.”

The minutes pass in giggles and wild heartbeats. Your discussions are sweet and tender; menacing and dirty. A palette of a hundred different, vibrant colours.

It’s always been hard for the two of you to take yourselves seriously; whenever the world isn’t throwing hurdles at you, you find joy in little things.

But when your breaths calm down and the laughter dies, you use the moment to voice what you have been pondering all morning.

No hurdle; yet, a sincere thought.

“Jungkook… I was thinking.”

Your words come out ominously; you immediately shift back to him, pulling his arms closer around you. Squinting into the sun, you lean your head against his, and say, “It might be too early to think about this, but— If we ended up having a daughter one day…”

His body tenses against yours. You know he’s always wanted this — he likes to talk about such things. Paints scenarios of himself as a father; of things he’d do, or of what he’d give them that he didn’t receive in his childhood.

You’ve had these conversations a few times, and the results always turned out wholesome.

I’ll teach them singing and painting, if they want to.

I’d be damned if they ever felt the absence of a parent, ever.

Do you think they’ll trust us?

“If we did,” you try again, clearing your voice, “what if we called her Suhana?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move a muscle. You wait a few seconds, half a minute, look at the trees and the hills far away.

And when he remains silent, you move your head towards look at him, unwrapping his arms to turn to him. Your back presses against the cool balustrade, and you take his cheeks into your hands.

His smile is gone, replaced by a slight pout. Distracted eyes misty when you lift his face. They glimmer; there’s melancholy and grief in his stare, mixed with healing and hope.

“Was it a bad idea?” you ask.

“No,” he says. Moments like these pull out that tiny voice of his. Like he’s a child, tender and vulnerable, worth protecting with your life. “No, it is a good idea. A very good idea… Just… unexpected.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” he echoes, “don’t be. I never thought of it this way, and the fact that you did… really…”

He cannot quite express it. And how would he?

How does he tell you that you reach deep within him with your words alone? That thoughtfulness isn’t anything he’s used to.

So far, he’s mostly only known people who benefitted from everything he did, or who prioritised their own reputation and life. Nothing wrong about being a bit selfish.

But being cared for… isn’t that crucial for a human being, too?

To feel loved and tended to. To realise that you’re never alone, that someone will always care, and that you will never be a sole wandering soul in this world.

How did it take him more than a decade to understand?

Because since his father’s death, no one has ever come close to what that man provided. To the love he gave, despite his strictness, always knowing the right thing to say; the right thing to do.

You’re his opposite. You give without demanding anything in return, always tender like an actual celestial being fallen from above. But you gift him the same warmth.

Every damn day.

A large hand travels underneath your ear, a thumb rubbing your jaw. Tears don’t fall when he holds them back hard; eyes look at your formidable form; lips yearning, yearning, yearning.

He inches closer until your foreheads touch, and despite the dryness on his cheeks, his voice is shaky when he opts to speak.

Five words, carrying his heart and laying it open.

“I love you. So much.”

You grab his wrist. Press into it with a smile, standing at a royal balcony like the world around you is empty. Like there aren’t people waiting inside, waiting for you to come out.

Or staff wandering around the garden, tending to the flowers.

Right here and right now, the two of you are all the world ever birthed.

Jungkook’s eyes close when yours do. You inhale when a sudden wind ruffles your hair, holding onto him; trembling the next moment.

Not because of the breeze, but because of the kiss that follows.

Jungkook always knows how to verbalise his emotions without saying a word.

The controlled movements of his lips suggest fiery desire. The press of your bodies against each other means affection and tenderness. How he holds you close and tilts his head to deepen the kiss…

He encapsulates all the profound love he cannot express in words.

The one he feels when he backs away and smiles. And the one flooding him when he realises that brightness surrounds you round the clock.

Be it the sun or candlelight.

But when you tell him that you love him, too, he understands that neither the glowing star above nor the flickering flames will ever burn as bright as you.

HOW DID WE LIKE IT !!! oh my god, i miss them already. it doesn’t feel like i started this series just 4 months ago... and i can’t believe it’s over :’) thank you so much for supporting it/me all this time. y’all probably already know how much i struggled with this one (especially since i was sick writing most of the epilogue rip fksdjakf), but it was an amazing experience and your love for it made this experience unforgettable. so yeah.. i love you 👑🤍

and as always... if you liked it, don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and to come and talk to me. i absolutely love reading through your messages and reactions and you boost my motivation like no one else <33

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook fic

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svngiem-remade · 5 months

Text

CARE OF YOU | yji

🧸 pairing. yang jeongin + gn!reader

synopsis. you got the flu overnight, and your loving boyfriend is there to take care of you.

🌙 wc. 0.8k | au. idol!au, established relationship, fluff, reader is sick, inni cooks for reader :((

This is not how today was supposed to go.

Right now, you were supposed to be sitting on the grass of the small public park near your apartment.

Right now, you were supposed to be eating the food you and Jeongin had carefully packed in your picnic basket the night before in between laughs and kisses.

Right now, you were supposed to be bathing under the sun with your boyfriend's head on your lap as you quietly talked about pretty much anything that came to mind; but instead, here you were: eyes watery and droopy from the lack of sleep, body trembling from how cold you were feeling even if your forehead was burning up, throat dry no matter how many glasses of water and warm tea you'd gulped down.

Your nose suddenly started tingling, and you couldn't help but scoff in annoyance before a loud sneeze left your mouth, followed by three quieter ones.

You grimaced in disgust, holding a tissue to your nose as you sank further into the blush pink loveseat you and Jeongin had purchased to celebrate having finally moved in together after almost 2 years of dating—the memory of the two of you arguing over its placement in the, at the time, bare living room managed to make you smile, making you almost forget why you'd been pouty all morning, until you sneezed, again.

You huffed, trying to focus on the last episode of your favorite drama playing on TV, when suddenly, the smell of freshly cooked rice invaded your nostrils. You hummed happily, slightly moving from your position to peek at your boyfriend in the kitchenette, who was busy placing a few dishes on one of your wooden trays—looking extremely handsome while doing it, may you add—and your frown couldn’t help but melt away, your smile couldn’t help but grow bigger when he walked into the living room, tray in hand and a concentrated look on his face.

“Here,” Jeongin’s silky voice filled your ears, “you gotta have a full stomach before taking your medicine.” he stated with a serious look on his face, placing the tray on the coffee table before sitting in the empty spot next to you. And without saying a word, he laced your fingers with his, helping you sit up straight before placing a tender peck on the back of your hand, as he always did. And even if you’d been dating for what felt like a lifetime at that point, you still blushed, making him chuckle as he picked up the bowl of miso soup from the tray.

You smiled, muttering a quiet “thank you” before extending your arms to take said bowl from his hands, mouth already watering at how good it looked and how amazing it smelled—however, your dreams and hopes of blessing your taste buds with Jeongin's cooking all crashed down when he moved it out of your reach.

“Nu-huh,” he grinned at your adorably confused face, motioning for you to lower your arms, taking a spoonful of the soup. “I'll feed you.” he whispered as he inched the spoon to your lips—however, a snoffle, followed by a scowl painted your features.

“I may be sick, but I can still eat on my own.” you protested, looking down at the bowl of soup as you hugged your knees closer to your chest. He chuckled at your bundled up self looking back at him with a frown.

“I'll be the judge of that.” Jeongin retorted, but still, your lips didn't budge. Damn you and your cute stubbornness. “Please?”

You puckered your lips, his words hanging in the air before you finally gave in with a sigh and opened your mouth, letting him feed you. You didn’t notice the whipped grin on his lips when your eyes beamed as soon as you gulped down the soup. “Is this your mom's recipe?” you asked excitedly before another spoonful was basically shoved down your throat.

He hummed, a warm smile on his lips, “It is. I know how much you like it, so I called her while you were sleeping and asked her for her recipe.” He'd do anything to make you feel better, to make you smile and be happy, and he was not shy to let you know that.

You teared up at his confession. You were going to marry that man one day. “You always take such good care of me.” you looked up at him, letting him feed you another spoonful of soup as your cheeks warmed up. “Thank you. I love you.”

You'd said those words countless times in the course of your relationship, but they never got old—his heart still raced the same, the tips of his ears still flushed red whenever you uttered them.

Jeongin beamed at you, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on the crown of your head. “Thank you for letting me take care of you and show you how much I love you everyday.” he muttered against your hair before going back to the soup, helping you finish it before he put the now empty ceramic back on the wooden tray.

You sighed happily—stomach full, and satisfied as you leaned back on the headrest, lacing your cold fingers with your boyfriend's warm ones—though, when you saw him reach for the disgusting looking syrup on the coffeetable, you grimaced. “Now, say ‘aaaah’”

please reblog, comment and like, feedback is very much appreciated, plus, I love reading your thoughts!

→ masterlist.

— pink = unable to tag!

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bangtanintotheroom · 3 months

Text

Fill the Void (M)

I don't wanna decide things for myself, on my own

Finally, for the first time, I'm alone

You call me, havin' good times with a bad boy

Seems I've got a choice to make

Be my voice and I choose you to fill the void

• Pairing: Professional Dom!Hyunjin x Client!(F)Reader

• Genre: Non-Idol!AU, Sex Worker!AU, Smut

• Rating: 18+

• Words: 7.1k

• Summary: He’s always there to help you forget your troubles, even if it’s just for a few hours.

• Warnings/themes: explicit sexual content, sex work, swearing, drinking, discussion of safe words and consent, dom!Hyunjin, sub!Y/N, sensory deprivation (blindfold), usage of sl*t, degradation, bondage, edging, orgasm denial, manhandling, praise, use of sex toys, fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, light choking, protected sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, aftercare

• Playlist: 🎧

• Song Inspo: Fill the Void - The Weeknd, Lily-Rose Depp (Spotify | Soundcloud)

• Notes: Wow, look who finished this, eons later! I am so sorry for everyone who’s been looking forward to this, between the holiday and con rush and focus issues, it was hard getting this complete 🥲 but it’s here now and I hope it was somewhat worth the wait! Shoutout to my lovely Sunclair @minisugakoobies for beta reading! 💖

• Taglist: @minttangerines @aznstoner @horanghater @addictedtohobi @swga-ficrecs @firesighgirl @hyunjinsjeans

It didn’t matter how many times you frequented this place; your reaction would always be the same.

Heart picking up in speed as you opened the heavy wooden door between a nail salon and a cat cafe.

Eyes darting around at the picture frames of scantily clad people hanging on the burgundy walls.

Lips curling as you approached the androgynous young man sitting behind the singular desk in the lobby.

He was quick to notice you, glittered eyes crinkling in recognition.

“Y/N, so good to see you again!”

“Same to you, Felix. Is he here tonight?”

What did it say about you that a specific name didn’t have to be announced for him to know who you were talking about?

“Of course, he just got in a few minutes ago. I’ll give him a call.”

Nodding in understanding, you waited as the receptionist picked up the phone and dialed. It didn’t take long for him to start speaking to who was on the other end.

“Hey man, what’s up? I’ve got a surprise for you here.”

A pause while you fiddled with your purse strap.

“One of your regulars is back.”

Felix chose to shoot you a wink from the side, making you grin bashfully.

“Yup, that’s the one. How long will it be?”

More silence before he nodded.

“Sounds good, she’ll be waiting for you. See ya.”

Hanging up the phone, Felix shot you a smile that contrasted with the dark and sensual decor.

“It’ll be a few minutes, he’s just freshening up and he’ll be out for you.”

His words only made your pulse quicken further, but you played it cool on the surface as you replied, “Wonderful. Thank you.”

“Just make yourself comfortable, okay?”

His suggestion was paired with an arm outstretched towards a waiting area to the right, occupied with a few patrons sitting on black velvet couches. With a nod at the blond, you headed into the room, only receiving a glance or two from the other occupants. You took a seat on one of the armchairs in the corner, crossing your legs and leaning back into the cushion as you waited.

To soothe the nerves that always plagued you in this establishment, your eyes took in the people nearby. There were only five of them, taking up little space in the sizable room.

Two of them were huddled together on one of the sofas, most likely a couple judging by the way they held hands and touched knees. Not an ounce of anxiety was on their faces; if anything, they looked eager for whatever was in store for them tonight.

As for the others…

Your eyes shifted subtly to the opposite side.

Three young men who seemed to be good friends, but were currently on different wavelengths. The one in the middle was sandwiched between the other two as they whispered excitedly. He seemed to be less enthusiastic than them, leg bouncing while he kept shaking his head or retorting to the others. A pat on the back helped ease his nerves, body leaning back into the seat as he took deep breaths.

Poor sap was probably a newbie.

You remembered when you were in his position. It felt like so long ago.

Or maybe you had just been here so often that it felt like a long time.

Either way, you were in and knew what you needed tonight.

“Y/N?”

A familiar voice brought you to attention, straightening up in your seat at the tall and lean figure now standing in front of you as your stomach flipped in on itself.

“Hyunjin.”

The man smiled down at you, the red lights illuminating and shadowing the right places on his handsome face.

“Welcome back.”

You returned the expression, cheeks heating up despite your best efforts. He always seemed to have this effect on you.

“It’s good to be back.”

Hyunjin’s magnetic smile only widened, holding a hand out towards you. Without exchanging any more words, you took it, marveling at the warmth and delicacy of it. The opposite of what it could really do behind closed doors.

He helped you up and led you out of the waiting room and back into the hall. You saw the other patrons staring at the two of you out of the corners of your eyes, expressions ranging from encouragement to curiosity. Probably wondering what the enticing worker and the client in her wrinkled pantsuit were going to get up to.

Nothing was said as you and him walked past closed doors, the occasional sounds soaking through them. A moan. A groan or two. Some laughter. Once in a while a scream of pleasure. Or pain.

The first couple of visits, you’d jump and blink owlishly at the rooms, your gaping broken by the gentle tug Hyunjin would give your hand. You were used to these noises by now; it was nothing but background music to you.

Finally, a familiar door ended up in your vision. The dark wood with the red chain wrapped around the handle had your stomach knotting in titillation. Just like always.

Hyunjin opened it and motioned you to enter first, waiting until you stepped halfway in to shut it behind him.

His designated room fit the aesthetic of the establishment, yet it had its own style that catered to its owner. Black made up most of the decor, with the occasional blocks of white and garnished by gold. With the large bed in the middle, decorated with multiple throw pillows, any passerby would assume this was a normal person’s bedroom.

But the oddly-shaped chair looming in the corner hinted at what occurred here other than sleeping and relaxing.

“Need a drink?”

The query made you inhale and let out a heavy breath.

“Please.”

You made yourself comfortable on the end of the king-sized bed, unbuttoning your blazer before tossing it behind you. The urge to lay back and sink into the cozy mattress crept up, but you fought it in favor of watching Hyunjin work his magic at the mini bar.

“I hadn’t heard from you in a while, thought something might’ve happened.”

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see you.

“No, just a deadline that’s been sucking the soul out of me.”

The worker hummed in understanding, turning around to reveal a glass in his hand, halfway full with white wine. As soon as he was within reach, you took a hold of the drink, wasting no time in taking a sip. The room temperature liquid slid down your throat like it was gold, pulling a sigh out when you pulled the glass away.

“Fuck, I needed that. Thank you, Hyunjin.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.”

Hyunjin sat next to you, the distance enough to be respectable yet hint to the familiarity the two of you had.

“How have you been?”

One more sip and you turned your head to answer.

“On the verge of jumping out a window.”

The chuckle he gave was minor, though his expression exuded sympathy.

“Has work been that difficult?”

“Difficult doesn’t even come close to it.”

“Oh?”

Just that one little word was enough to have you prepping to express just what had been plaguing you in your career to even bring you here tonight.

“Well, where do I start?”

You moved your free arm back to lean on it, head tilting back to face the ceiling.

“Rumor has it that one of my managers is going to be laid off soon, despite our team being in the middle of a large project.”

You lifted the half-empty glass in the air.

“We have a new intern. Nice kid, but the amount of times he’s forgotten the basic details because he’s too focused on the big picture is irritating.”

The grip on the crystal stem tightened.

“I just found out that the sales coordinator who has been hitting on me is married. But if you ask him, he’ll say he’s in an open relationship.”

You sighed and shook your head.

“I actually liked that asshole.”

Hyunjin gave a scoff before remarking, “Men aren’t shit.”

“Seriously. Oh, and—” The lip of the glass hovered just centimeters away from your lips now. “—I got a parking ticket this morning.”

The tiniest of snorts left Hyunjin while you downed the rest of your drink, letting out a sigh of relief once it finished sliding down your throat.

“You’ve really been going through it, haven’t you?”

“To say the least.”

Your head turned, looking over the other’s appearance with interest. He always had the most interesting outfits on whenever you came, emphasizing his tall and lean figure. This time was no exception.

A short-sleeved sweater vest with a crisp white collar and a black tie wrapped around his neck and simple black slacks. A few bracelets and a watch on his wrists to brighten up the dark look. His hair was tied up this time, showing off an undercut you remembered him mentioning during your last visit. But while you were studying his face, you noticed something that wasn’t there before.

“This is new.”

You pointed to the metal sitting underneath Hyunjin’s right brow, his expression brightening.

“Ah, you noticed. I got it a few weeks ago.”

A hum vibrated through your lips as you admired the piercing.

“It suits you.”

He was quick to express his gratitude, clearly pleased that you brought it up. The two of you conversed on whatever came up for a while, acting like old friends and not a worker and client about to get down to business. But you started growing restless after a certain point, ready to receive what you came here for.

“Hyunjin?”

“Hm?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear while looking into his eyes.

“I think I’m ready now.”

Your words made Hyunjin’s eyes steel, starting to enter into professional mode.

“Are you sure?”

No hesitation.

“Yes.”

“Okay—” He placed a hand on the small of your back, rubbing with comfort. “—how do you want it, Y/N?”

You knew. You knew since you began planning to come here earlier in the week. But it was a little further than what you were used to doing with him.

So you had to swallow the spit gathering in your mouth before responding, “Rough. Rougher than usual.”

The shift in Hyunjin’s dark eyes resembled the one you would see in your coworkers as they prepared to counter suggestions in meetings. His hand also stopped rubbing your lower back.

“How rough?”

His question forced you to take a moment and remember how the system he had set up worked. When you mulled over just how far you wanted him to go, you held up four fingers. He counted each digit and raised a brow at your answer.

“Are you sure? We’ve never gone that far before.”

“Yes, Hyunjin. I really need this, believe me.”

Your tone was verging on desperate, dying to give complete control over to this man and forget about anything irrelevant. It was just the professional in him making sure that his client knew what they were signing up for. You appreciated it, really.

But you needed Hyunjin to start making you forget your own name.

Thankfully, he nodded after a pause or two, his hand continuing to move again.

“Okay, love. That means we’ll have to do a refresher on safe words.”

Ah. Now you really had to dig in your brain this time.

You had never been pushed far enough that you had to use them, but now you were testing your boundaries. Hyunjin was good at his job, but that didn’t mean things couldn’t go wrong.

With intense focus, you attempted to recall the words. It took a while yet they returned in full clarity.

“Soft.”

“To keep going.”

You nodded.

“Hard.”

His mouth quirked.

“To bring up the intensity.”

The next one.

“Pause.”

“To stop completely.”

“And…”

This one took longer, but you managed.

“Swap.”

“To switch it up.”

You hummed in approval, his answers matching up correctly with your words.

“I’m surprised you remember.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders lifted in nonchalance.

“It’s my job, darling.”

A chuckle came from you; he did have a point.

“Fair. So—” You set your empty glass on the floor before standing up, cocking your head as you looked down at him. “—should I undress myself or would you like to do the honors?”

Hyunjin gave you the sauciest of smirks, letting you know that play time was over.

“It’s all up to you, love.”

Yes.

This was just what you needed.

To think about nothing except the toy sliding in and out of you and the one controlling it.

It took little effort on Hyunjin’s part to clear your mind of the troubles plaguing you outside of this building. As soon as you were stripped down to nothing but your skin, he was quick to switch to his other persona, instructing you to get comfortable on the piece of furniture in the corner before strapping you in with ease. The way his lips quirked when he looked over your bound form never failed to raise goosebumps. It was the last glimpse you got of him before satin covered your eyes and left you to view nothing but darkness.

And true to his promise, he began pushing you to your limits.

“A-Ah—”

You could hear him huff below you, taunting, “You’re making a mess on my furniture, darling.”

You were pretty sure he wasn’t exaggerating; every time the vibrator sunk in or pulled back, you could feel your wetness dripping out and collecting into a puddle underneath your ass. This was how you got whenever Hyunjin teased you. The ability he had to build you up and make you walk to the mountaintop, only to force you to turn around and head back down was astonishing.

And addicting.

“Mnh—”

It was pointless to tug at the bands around your wrists. You didn’t even budge an inch.

“So needy for a piece of plastic. It’s adorable.”

You tried to stop what came out of your mouth next automatically, but failed, retorting, “That piece of plastic is making me feel good— Ah!”

A sharp impact on your thigh brought a cry out of you, swiftly followed by his stern voice.

“Manners, Y/N.”

Oops. One of the rules established was to not talk back and you almost ruined the mood.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Hyunjin clicked his tongue at your meek apology, clearly not too pleased with the interruption.

“I thought I was doing my job, but I guess not since your mouth just ran off.”

You couldn’t avoid the way your walls squeezed when you heard him say in a velvety tone, “Guess we’ll have to fix that, hm?”

Within a second, you could feel the toy pulling out, a whine escaping your lips as you felt so empty all of a sudden.

“Sir—”

He didn’t allow you to utter another syllable as you felt something wet and hot gliding against your swollen folds out of nowhere. The sensation made you jerk in your restraints and yelp sharply, legs bound tight to prevent you from closing them. You weren’t sure if it was a good or bad thing at the moment.

Hyunjin’s tongue took its sweet time traveling, the tip dipping into crevices and swirling around your hard clit with precision. In any other situation, the attention would be welcome, especially from someone as skilled as him. But this was not helping with the golden rule of the night.

Don’t come unless he says so.

“Hyu— Sir, please!”

You trembled at the hum washing over your center. “Hm?”

“Sir…more.” A pause. “Please?”

Almost forgot your manners.

“I don’t know, love, can you handle more?”

Could you? Probably not, but tonight was about pushing your boundaries…

“Yes.”

Nothing but your labored breathing was heard for some time. Which was why you flinched at the feel of something much smaller and warmer than the vibrator poking at your entrance.

“Is this good enough for you, greedy thing?”

“Y-Yes sir!”

Your pitch increased when you felt his finger slide into you with little resistance, burying up to the knuckle. Hips raising at the sensation, they began following the rhythm of Hyunjin’s thrusting, enjoying the bundle of pleasure that began building up again.

“Fuck, you’re so needy.”

A pinch of your hip interrupted your movements, teeth catching onto your bottom lip.

“Fucking yourself onto my finger like a slut. Never imagined that this would be what I dealt with tonight.”

There was no hiding the shiver that wracked your body at his words. And if there was a chance, it was wiped off the map when Hyunjin tapped onto your G-spot, ripping a shriek out of you.

“Shit!”

The chuckle you heard was dripping with nearly sadistic amusement at your predicament.

“There you go, making a mess again.”

Your face burned with unbearable heat as he pointed out the obvious, feeling your arousal dribbling out every time he stroked the soft area or thrusted into it. It was difficult to get like this with any of your previous partners, but the man between your legs had you in such a state without even breaking a sweat.

To make matters worse, Hyunjin went back to stimulating your clit with his mouth. You could hear the clinking of the chains as you pulled your wrists forward, barely making any distance. He had made it so you couldn’t move as he ruined you to bits; all you could do was squirm on the chair and express yourself through expletives and moans.

It didn’t take long for your body to sink into the rhythm he was creating, fighting less and less against the pleasure. You had even bucked your hips a few times, receiving chuckling and teasing from the other.

But then you realized at a certain point that you were getting too relaxed.

For a string deep in your belly began forming into a knot and pulling tight.

Fuck. Not good.

“Y/N.”

The rigidity surrounding your name made you freeze before Hyunjin continued, “You better not be doing what I think you’re about to do.”

“I-I’m not, sir—”

The way your voice shook and you tugged at your bindings betrayed your words. Denying the sensation only seemed to exacerbate it, the mass growing further and further the more his fingers slid in and out of your pussy.

“Doesn’t feel like it. Remember what I said?”

“Y-Yes.”

A sharp pinch to your inner thigh made you whimper.

“Say it.”

“Don’t c-come unless you say so. I promise I won’t, sir.”

A rub on that same spot was followed by, “Good.”

But he didn’t ease up. Instead, he continued his motions and challenged your resistance to breaking one of his rules. You were trying to give the facade that you were under control, but your body kept twisting and whimpers poured from your agape mouth.

It was so tempting to just give up and say your safe word, but fuck that.

You were on a mission tonight and you weren’t raised to be a quitter.

The sting of nails digging into your palms felt minor compared to the ache between your legs.

Fight it. Fight it. Fight it.

The sensation remained stagnant before finally beginning to fade into slight discomfort. Although your body protested, your mind was satiated by the praise you heard next.

“Good girl. I love when you listen to me.”

You hummed in appreciation at Hyunjin’s words and the hand gently rubbing your hip now.

“Th-Thank you, sir.”

The welcoming warmth of his palm lulled you into somewhat of a relaxed state that made you aware of the current position you were in. The hardness of the chair was starting to make your bottom sore and your hands and feet were starting to get a bit tingly now. Your lips turned downwards as you tried but failed to regain your discomfort.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Easy.”

His touch paused, the heat stagnant on your skin.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“A little.”

You heard Hyunjin hum before responding, “Should we move this to the bed, darling?”

Just the thought of laying on the soft duvet had your tone brightening as you gave your approval. The hand left your hip before landing above your head to work on loosening you from the furniture.

Feeling the leather unwrap from your wrists and ankles was a mild relief, flexing your toes and fingers for a moment before you felt your hips being grabbed and pulled downwards. Your legs came together quick enough to help you stand, although they had little strength once your feet touched the ground. Your sense of balance was affected from the prolonged position and you stumbled forward.

If it wasn’t for the hands that swiftly supported your waist, you would have ended up face first with the carpet.

“Be careful.”

Anyone unfamiliar with Hyunjin would have missed the minor softening of his tone, the immersion breaking for a moment to make sure you were able to continue. You took this opportunity to rest your forehead against what felt like his shoulder and regain your bearings. The sensation of fabric against your skin and the scent of his cologne entering your nostrils contributed to being aware of your surroundings once again.

After taking a few deep breaths, you straightened up, hoping that you were looking somewhere at Hyunjin’s face.

“Y/N, how are you feeling?”

A loaded question, really.

You were feeling like a mess in the best way possible, yet the sharp pang between your thighs was torturous. Every throb reminded you of what he had been putting you through for the last…

How long had it even been since you stepped in this room?

“I’m…soft.”

Hyunjin clued in on the word, a hum leaving him in response.

“I see. Do you think we should move this somewhere a little more comfortable?”

The invitation was more than welcoming to you. As much fun as you were having in the chair, nothing could beat the plushness of a bed. Especially his bed.

“I’d like that, sir.”

A rub of your waist made a thrill run down your spine, followed by his hands coming up behind your head.

“Should we take this off or leave it on?”

You didn’t want to risk nearly taking a spill again, so you chose the former, remaining still as Hyunjin undid the knot of your blindfold. As soon as the fabric was lifted off, you made the mistake of quickly opening your eyes, wincing as the dim light attacked them. The man in front of you chuckled in amusement, appearing as a blurry shape to you.

“I turned the lights down for a reason, darling.”

“Thank you…”

It took a minute to adjust, but you were able to finally see the other in full form, taking in his appearance.

Aside from a bead of sweat at his hairline, he looked nonplussed. Like he hadn’t been working you up with his own two hands.

Someone who was impeccable at his job.

“Come on.”

Hyunjin’s expression cooled, a hand sliding down to grip the back of your neck.

“Break time is over.”

The pang between your thighs returned in full force at the tone of his voice and touch, your head bobbing in agreement. He took a hold of your shoulders before turning you around, the king-sized bed in your view as he guided you to walk forward. Just as your legs were about to hit the foot of it, Hyunjin stopped you, leaning down to croon into your ear, “How do you want it?”

It wasn’t easy to answer immediately. The cautious part of you said to get in a position that wouldn’t break you down further, but the adventurous side wanted to go all out. You pondered for as long as you could, not feeling any sort of impatience from the man behind you.

But finally—

“Can I show you?”

Your question was answered with a hum, feeling his hands remove themselves. Once you were free, you stepped forward to climb onto the bed, stopping in the middle on your hands and knees. You lowered the side of your head to rest on the plush comforter, bringing your arms behind you to cross your wrists on the small of your back.

“Like this, sir.”

You heard Hyunjin make a sound of interest before footsteps echoed, stopping once his body was in your sight.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Your gaze connected with his. “And bind me again, please.”

Hyunjin quirked a brow, somewhat intrigued by your request. Studying your expression to find any hesitation, he gave his own approval once it was clear that there was none.

“Alright. Lift your head up for a second.”

You were a bit confused, but obliged, watching his arm go out of view to grab something above your head. It was clear what he went for when he slid the object under your temple before motioning you to lower it, the coolness and comfort of the silk pillowcase providing some relief.

“So you don’t walk out of here with a sore neck.”

A smile couldn’t help but form, looking up at him as you gave your thanks. The tiniest lift of his mouth occurred but disappeared swiftly, leaving your sight as he walked off to grab whatever was needed for this next phase.

You were hopeful that whatever would enter you next wasn’t his fingers or another toy. At this point, you needed something more substantial. And knowing how thorough Hyunjin could be with what he hid in his slacks had your veins thrumming with electricity.

But alas. You blanked out for a moment and forgot that it wasn’t going to be the usual song and dance tonight, per your request.

For after you felt him locking the familiar leather cuffs around your wrists, his fingertips trailed down your body until they stroked against your dripping folds.

“Have you gotten even wetter, darling?”

You swallowed down a whimper when he tapped your throbbing clit, replying, “Maybe…”

A short laugh and a pinch to your bottom was what you got in return.

“Why am I not surprised? I bet you’re hoping that I’ll fuck you now, hm?”

Even if your body remained still as a board, surely he saw the way you reacted between your legs.

“Yes sir.”

A light swat on your ass had your breath hitching.

“Yes sir, what?”

Oh. Here we go.

You had to wet your dry lips before speaking lowly, “Yes sir, I’m hoping you’ll fuck me.”

Hyunjin didn’t seem to be entirely convinced as he delivered another smack, earning a short but sharp sound from you.

“It doesn’t sound like it, Y/N. You seemed more desperate when I had that piece of plastic inside you.”

Now you could feel his fingertip parting your folds before it slowly opened your entrance, sinking in ever so slightly, not even close to stroking that sweet spot.

“Even when my finger was in, you sounded needy. I think you were satisfied with just those, no?”

He probably wanted you to convince him. Really convince him.

Time to reach into your depths and pull out the performance of your life.

“No, sir. They’re not enough.”

You dared to push your hips back, forcing the digit in deeper.

“I need your cock instead. Need it to fuck me dumb.”

A noise of intrigue came from behind you, but you continued before he could say anything.

“I really need this, sir. Want you to stretch my pussy out some more—”

You moved back further, breath hitching when your spot was nearly touched.

“Please fuck me now.”

Nothing but your own heartbeat was heard, hoping that your little show was enough to prove yourself. After a moment, you felt the finger inside you take its sweet time sliding out, hips following in vain. A hard slap was given on your ass, followed by a deep chuckle.

“That was impressive, darling. I’ve never heard you sound so needy before.”

As much as you wanted to bury your heated face into the bed, you remained steady. “I’ll do what I have to to convince you, sir.”

“I see—”

The noise of his belt coming undone made your ears perk up.

“Then I should give the little slut what she’s been asking for, right?”

It was so hard to hide your triumphant grin, but you managed to dim it down into the tiniest of smiles.

“Thank you, sir.”

A pat to your bottom was Hyunjin’s appreciation of your manners. It felt like ages before you felt him get on the bed to kneel behind your bent form. But when something thicker than a finger and warmer than a vibrator rested between your ass cheeks, elation began blossoming in your chest. It was hard to resist when you decided to wiggle, biting back a giggle at the slightest intake of breath from him.

It was a temporary victory as Hyunjin’s hands took a firm hold of your hips, keeping you in place now.

“Cheeky.”

You weren’t surprised at the pinch you received, taking it in stride. This was what you were waiting for all night. Hell, all day. You didn’t have to hope that he would, to put it simply, fuck the ever-loving shit out of you.

The man knew how to do his job thoroughly.

“Ready?”

You nodded, shifting your body a bit to prepare for what was to come.

“Yes, sir.”

With those two words, you could feel Hyunjin grab himself, readjusting to have his tip pressing lower down now. Your toes curled instinctively when you felt the blunt head of his cock parting your folds before he began penetrating. You forgot how to breathe for a moment at the intrusion, nails digging into your palms. But he was giving you what you asked for and that’s all you could want.

Until—

Oh fuck.

You were more sensitive than you realized, feeling the familiar tingle in your fingers and toes start as he sunk further in. You tried to stave off the sensations, but with each inch, you felt your self control withering away and collecting into a ball of tension in your lower stomach. Your walls began trembling before starting to clench around him in preparation for—

“Y/N.”

The sharpness of your name forced you to pay attention, especially when Hyunjin followed with, “Don’t.”

Damn. Your body was a rebel, trying to fight against his command, pussy still throbbing incessantly. You had to get it under control now. Who knew what he’d have in store if you disobeyed?

“I-I’m trying, sir…”

You were forced to shut your eyes as you tried your damnedest to regain control, from counting backwards to picturing a calm ocean. After a few countdowns, you managed to refocus, avoiding the inevitable orgasm. Even though your cunt was screaming at you to give in to the sweet release, you felt a sense of satisfaction at being able to hold back.

Hyunjin seemed to be impressed also, giving a gentle rub to your sore ass cheek before cooing, “Such a good girl.”

You exhaled sharply, only to suck in a breath when you felt him begin to move. The thrusts were slow and long, forcing you to soak in every bit of his dick. He had a way of rolling his hips that not many men had in them, rendering you weak within a couple of minutes. Now was not an exception, soft moans starting to leave your parted lips with increasing frequency.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

“Mnh— Yes, sir. Feels good—”

Funny how nonplussed Hyunjin sounded compared to you, already getting lost in the pleasure.

“Good. I better keep hearing you sound like this.”

“Of course— Ah!”

A deeper than expected thrust ripped a cry from your throat. Your fingers curled and dug into your palms as you tried to keep it together. As badly as you wanted to release, you were determined to stick to your challenge tonight.

Even though the man behind you was making it insanely difficult.

He wouldn’t stick with the same, old rhythm. If Hyunjin wasn’t switching his strokes up, he was grunting or husking out words that made heat spread throughout every part of your body.

Good.

You wanted to forget about whatever happened prior to you stepping in this building and he was doing his absolute best to see your wish through.

Time was a foreign concept while you were being fucked. Especially when you were doing your best to not come before you were given the go ahead. But like a splash of cold water, you suddenly felt Hyunjin completely bury himself, skin flush against yours.

A yelp left you at the change, ready to call out his name until you heard something gruff and velvety ring out behind you.

“Come.”

Was it the way his word was delivered with pure authority? Was it because he was buried deep inside your cunt, flush with your bottom? Or was it how tight he gripped your hips, fingers digging hard enough to feel the dullness of his nails?

Either way, it hit you like a freight train.

If anyone had been walking close in the hallway, surely they heard the way you screamed out.

Spots filled your vision, every bit of your body shaking at the long-awaited release. The only thing keeping you from completely sinking into the bed were Hyunjin’s hands.

“Yes, that’s it, darling.”

How you managed to hear his praise during your prolonged orgasm was a miracle. Eventually, the sensations faded and you were of sound mind again.

The dom must have noticed as you could feel him beginning to thrust into you again, bringing a feeling of strong overstimulation to you. You bit back a whimper, your pussy trembling in a mix of pleasure and discomfort. You tried to subtly shift away from him, but to no avail.

A pressure on the chain linking your bound hands was quickly followed by a commanding, “Don’t fucking run—“

A sudden jerk of your cuffs forced your body to straighten, your bound hands now trapped between your back and Hyunjin’s torso.

“You wanted to come so badly, I’m giving it to you.”

There was little space for you to protest at all, a hand coming up to wrap around your neck and an arm wrapping around your waist to keep you in place. As soon as a light pressure made your breathing hitch, Hyunjin began pounding into you, harder than ever.

If it wasn’t for his fingers, you would have shrieked.

The sensitivity from before still lingered, bringing a mix of pain and bliss that was unlike what you had experienced with him before. But you never spoke any of your safe words.

You just let the other keep pushing you over the edge repeatedly, to the point where you practically forgot your own name. Your entire body and brain were entering into a fog that could only focus on the cock driving in and out of you and the debauchery being rasped into your ear.

“Fuck, that’s it! Coming endlessly like a needy slut.”

“This pussy of yours just keeps squeezing me over and over—”

“Such a good girl for me, mnh—!”

Just when you were on the verge of asking him to slow down, you felt Hyunjin completely bury himself before remaining still behind you. The gritted swearing and strong twitching of his cock against your hypersensitive walls clued you in to what was happening, a mix of relief tinted with satisfaction washing over you.

As the two of you caught your breath, exhaustion started sinking its claws into you. Your eyelids became heavy, threatening to close when he released your neck and waist to gently lay you on your front. Landing on the duvet only made the sensation worse, leaving you limp as a noodle.

If you had been by yourself in this room, there would’ve been no way to get out. Thank God for Hyunjin being here to look out for you.

You could feel him undoing your cuffs before he carefully rolled you onto your side, guiding you into a fetal position that was much needed.

“How are you feeling?”

Spent. Satisfied. Ready for a nap.

But all you could muster was a weak grunt.

Hearing Hyunjin hum, you felt a warm hand lay between your shoulder blades and begin to rub.

“Would you like something to eat and drink? It’ll help get your energy back.”

At least you could manage a nod, lids fluttering.

The hand was removed as he went to grab whatever he had stored away for moments like this, leaving you to try your best to not fall asleep right there. Luckily, Hyunjin returned swiftly, soft voice sounding again. “Darling, I’m going to sit you up, okay?”

You managed to croak a feeble response, allowing him to guide you to sit up against the pillows. You saw spots for a moment, leaning your head back to try and blink them away.

“Here.”

You looked down to see the lip of a water bottle in front of your face. With Hyunjin’s help, you managed to latch on and drink. Once you got a satisfying amount down, he handed you a small pack of saltines, already opened.

“Is this fine or would you like something else?”

The tiniest of smiles came over as you took the package.

“This is perfect. Thank you.”

Hyunjin reflected your expression, waiting until you ate one of the crackers before reaching for your free arm. As soon as his lithe fingers began working into your stiff muscles, you sighed in contentment.

“Your arms must be killing you right now.”

“Mm, I’ve had worse being in the gym.”

The dom chuckled at your light quip, glad to see that you were coming back down easily.

“I’ll still give you an Aleve before you head out, your tune might change in the morning.”

Even though your eyes rolled, you were appreciative of his thinking ahead. One of the reasons you always came back.

“Thank you.”

While you were snacking away, Hyunjin continued massaging all of your limbs, chasing away the aches and tingles with little effort. As soon as you finished eating and chugged your last bit of water, he was quick to offer you more, but you declined.

If you filled your stomach any more, you definitely would have curled up in your spot and taken a nap. You didn’t want to go over your time limit and interfere with his next client.

Once you had your bearings about you, you let Hyunjin know that you were ready to leave. He looked you over once more to make sure you were able to head home safely before helping you into the adjoining bathroom to freshen up. You cleaned up as best as you could and redressed, not caring that the wrinkles in your pantsuit worsened by now.

Your companion for the night took your hand and led you out and back down the hallway, your mood a 180 from a couple of hours ago. Stress didn’t run through your veins anymore, replaced with a lightness that could only come from a place like this.

“So how long will it be until I see your face again?”

A shrug greeted Hyunjin’s question.

“Hopefully not as long. I’ve still got some PTO left that I can use, so who knows?”

“Hm, we shall see.”

The two of you reached the entrance to the waiting room, the other stopping to turn and face you head-on.

“So this is goodbye, for now.”

You nodded and replied, “It is. Thank you again, Hyunjin. You don’t know how much I needed this tonight—” your teeth flashed, “—it’s like an entire weight off my shoulders.”

Hyunjin smiled politely, taking your free hand as well to give both of them a careful squeeze.

“As always, it’s my pleasure. You did great, Y/N.”

The praise brought a flutter to your chest and a warmth to your face. He was never shy with compliments. Although you had to wonder if his clients ever returned the favor on the regular…

Time to take a chance.

“So did you, Hyunjin.”

The way his eyes scrunched and teeth flashed, paired with his cheeks turning pink, let you know that you made the right decision.

“Thank you, darling.”

With a kiss to your hands and a good night, he sent you off on your way. You had a bounce in your step as you headed past the receptionist desk, Felix in the middle of a conversation with a young woman.

“I can guarantee you’ll have a good time with him, he’s one of our best here. Oh, Y/N!”

The call of your name made you pause, acknowledging the blond.

“How was it?”

Your grin expressed everything and more as you answered, “More than I needed and wanted.”

Felix beamed, pleased with your feedback. “Excellent! I actually have this wonderful young lady here asking about Hyunjin—” he jerked his head towards her, “—maybe you can give her your two cents?”

Said woman looked at you now, her lips curving with kindness and modesty.

“Hello. You’re familiar with Hyunjin?”

“Very. He’s my go-to guy whenever I visit. I’ve never had the urge to choose anyone else.”

Her eyes widened, curiosity covering her face now.

“Wow, really? That’s quite the preference.”

Watching the way she reacted reminded you of your first time here; on edge and unsure what exactly you wanted from one of the doms. If it wasn’t for the extensive patience Hyunjin showed you that first night, you never would have stepped foot in here again, let alone multiple times.

She had nothing to worry about.

“Mhm. Honestly, from one woman to another, I say go with him. Trust me—” you gave her as much of a reassuring smile as you could muster, “—you’ll be in good hands.”

©bangtanintotheroom, 2024. Do not repost to other sites or copy without permission.

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hamsterclaw · 4 months

Text

Flame

Bangtan Christmas 2023 drabble 4 - read the rest here.

A wounded man falls out of the sky and lands in your garden, plunging you into a world of danger and dragons. Part of the Royal Pain AU (Royal Pain, Dragonfire), featuring dragon rider! Jimin.

Pairing: Jimin x f! reader

Genre: Dragon rider! Jimin

Rating: 18+

Word count: 8k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, mentions of blood and injury

The man who lands in your garden looks like he’s fallen out of the sky. He’s hurt, bruised, bleeding from a long gouge that runs down the side of his neck to his chest.

It takes you a while to drag him into your cottage but you manage eventually.

You start piecing him together again, wound by wound. First, the wound on his neck, that you clean and stitch together, using your finest embroidery thread, a remnant of your mother’s fondness for crafts.

The other bruises and grazes you smother in a salve made of St John’s wort your grandmother used to swear by.

You replace his ruined clothes and finally, exhausted, lay him to rest in your bed. You curl up next to the fire in your hearth and go to sleep yourself.

You awaken, with a start, to a growl in your ear and a pressure against your neck, under your jaw.

‘Who are you?’ demands the man you saved. His eyes are fiery, his grip on your throat surprisingly strong considering how injured he was.

You stammer your name, and haltingly explain how you found him.

‘Where am I?’ he asks.

It’s when you’re telling him that you’re on the outskirts of Ijil that he seems to calm, a little, enough to release his hold on your neck.

It’s a few moments until you get your breath back.

He watches you, eyes hard and cold, a sharp contrast to the softness of his features.

The man you rescued has blond hair, warm, honeyed rather than icy platinum. He has a jawline so sharp it looks like it could cut you, but his lips —-

His lips are full, rosy, and look like they’d be soft to kiss.

You realise you’re staring at him.

‘I won’t hurt you. I wouldn’t have taken you in and tended your wounds if I intended to do you harm,’ you say.

There’s a trickle of wet down your neck, where the point of the knife he held against you pierced your skin.

Moving slowly so as not to startle him, you press your fingertips to your skin, wincing as they come away bloodstained.

His grip on the knife he must have found in your kitchen loosens. He puts the knife down, watching you.

‘I’ve got bread, and stew, if you’re hungry,’ you offer.

He says nothing, but follows you into your kitchen.

You pour him a glass of water as you heat up the food you made. You pass him a hunk of bread.

He tears into it like he’s ravenous.

You’re so busy watching him it takes you a moment to catch up when he speaks.

‘You’re bleeding,’ he says.

His accent isn’t an Ijil one, but you’re not surprised. You’d seen the mark on his chest when you’d undressed him.

He’s a dragon rider.

Half a year ago, an Ijilian woman and child had been kidnapped by a dragon rider from Eosul. Attempts to rescue them had resulted in a huge fire that had burned down half of an Ijilian village.

Ijilians are good at magic but not known for fighting skills.

The unrest and bad blood since the kidnapping has gradually built up, to the point where if one of your clients knew you were harbouring a dragon rider, you’d fear for his safety.

You patch up the small, deep cut on your neck from the knife whilst the dragon rider eats.

You wash your hands and take the seat across from him, filling your plate.

You eat in silence.

‘I’m Jimin,’ he says, when his plate is empty. You offer him more food but he declines.

He gestures to his neck. ‘I’m sorry I cut you.’

‘It’s fine,’ you tell him. You pick up your empty plates to clean.

‘You can stay here until you heal up,’ you say, meeting his gaze. ‘You’re safe.’

You don’t think he entirely trusts you, but he’s too tired and injured to question you.

‘I woke up in a bed,’ he says, and you notice that he’s gone a little more pale and sweaty. ‘Is it yours? I can sleep elsewhere.’

‘Just take the bed,’ you say, brisk. ‘Are you in pain? I have a pain powder you can have.’

You see the flare of suspicion in his eyes, and know he’s going to refuse before he says it.

‘I’m fine,’ he insists. He turns and walks stiffly to your bedroom.

You clear up and prepare a herbal blend for one of your clients before you go to sleep yourself.

***

You wake to a knocking at your door. The sun, when you peer blearily out of the window, is high in the sky.

It’s a stunning day, bright and crisp. You open the door and greet Adara politely. Adara is one of the elders of the village you live on the outskirts of, a shrewd woman with powerful blue magic. She was a great friend of your grandmother’s.

You hand her the herbal blend you formulated for her tea and offer her a drink.

Adara declines. You’re turning away when her hand touches your chin.

‘What happened, love?’ she asks, concerned. ‘Did Bern get rough with you again?’

‘No, it was an accident,’ you tell her.

Adara narrows her eyes at you but lets it slide.

‘You should get more sleep,’ she says to you, kindly. She wraps her shawl tighter around herself and bids you goodbye.

You’re still thinking about Adara when you go to wash your face. You push open the door to your bathroom and stop in your tracks.

Jimin’s got his hands braced against the washbasin. His bare back is tense, muscles rippling as he washes his face.

Your eyes meet in the mirror.

‘I’m sorry,’ you apologise, quickly. ‘I’m used to living alone.’

You’re backing out of the bathroom when he says, ‘wait. I’m finished.’

He steps carefully past you. His shoulder brushes against yours. He stops for a moment, looking at your face.

‘I’ll fix breakfast,’ you tell him.

He says, ‘thank you,’ quietly.

You nod and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

***

Jimin sits opposite you at your little kitchen table. He looks tired still, and in pain, but he’s less pale than he was.

He grimaces as he lifts his right arm, the side of the long gouge on his neck. You’re not surprised, you’d seen the bruises over his chest and torso.

‘Why are you helping me?’ he asks.

‘You fell into my garden,’ you remind him. ‘I couldn’t just leave you there.’

‘You know I’m a dragon rider,’ he says. It’s not a question.

‘Are you?’ you say, pretending to be surprised.

For a moment he stares at you, then he laughs.

‘Are you a healer?’ he asks.

‘My grandparents were. I inherited some of their magic.’

Jimin takes a tentative sip of the tea you brewed him. He glances at you, appreciative. ‘This is delicious.’

You’re pleased he’s enjoying it.

There’s another knock on your door.

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes when you see who it is.

Bern’s one of the very few people your age in the village. He’s a spellcaster, which would be fine if he wasn’t also convinced he’s Jaesu’s gift to womankind.

He’s been handsy with you in the past, sometimes a little too rough. You’d be loath to do business with him if he wasn’t one of your biggest customers.

He looks curiously at Jimin, sitting at your table.

‘He’s a cousin, from Eosul,’ you say, quickly. ‘Jimin, this is Bern, he lives in the village.’

Jimin nods.

‘He’s not a dragon rider is he?’ Bern jokes. His gaze sharpens on Jimin’s wounded neck.

You laugh and push Bern’s order into his hands.

‘If I knew a dragon I’d get him to burn your ass,’ you say, cold.

Bern takes the package and catches your wrist as you pull your hands away.

‘Mouthy,’ he says.

You tug your wrist out of his grasp.

‘Thanks for your custom,’ you say, voice heavy with sarcasm.

You let Bern out and lean against the door, hand rubbing your wrist absently.

Jimin speaks up from the table. ‘Is he always that way?’

‘That’s him on a nice day,’ you reply, thinking of the time he pushed you up and pinned you against your kitchen door, just long enough that you started to get worried.

You start to clear up. ‘You should get some rest, if you want.’

‘Can I help you with anything?’

‘Not looking like you’re about to keel over,’ you reply. You regret the harshness of your tone as soon as the words come out of your mouth.

You apologise. ‘I’m sorry. I’m going into the woods to forage for herbs. I’ll be back in the evening. Will you be all right? I’m not expecting any other customers today.’

Jimin gets up, slowly. ‘I should head back to Eosul.’

‘You can barely walk,’ you point out.

There’s silence as you gaze at each other across your tiny kitchen.

‘If you go, there’s food in the pantry, and medicine,’ you say. ‘Help yourself to anything you think you’ll need.’

‘Thank you,’ Jimin says.

You nod, lift your cloak off its peg, and leave.

****

Your little cottage is dark when you return from foraging, arms full.

You push open the door and step over the threshold.

It takes you a few practised movements to light the oil lamp in the kitchen, a few more to get a fire going in the hearth.

You don’t sense anyone else.

You’re a little disappointed that Jimin’s left but you guess as a dragon rider he’s used to being injured.

You wash up, get changed and go back to the kitchen to store your herbs.

The kitchen door’s standing open, letting in the chill.

A moment later the shape of a man fills the doorway.

‘Sorry,’ Jimin says, slightly winded, carrying an armful of timber for your fire. ‘I saw you were nearly out.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. He stores the wood whilst you separate your herbs.

‘I was going to have dinner. Would you like to join me?’

Jimin smiles at you. The light of the fire flatters his beautiful skin, picks out the gold in his hair.

‘I’d like to stay.’

You heat up yesterday’s stew whilst he cuts the bread and fills a jug of water. He frowns as the back door swings open.

‘The latch is broken, I’ve been meaning to fix it,’ you explain, pulling the door to, tying the makeshift latch you’ve fashioned with a bit of old rope and a plank.

Jimin says, ‘here.’

He steps forward and ties an intricate looking knot, fastening the plank tightly.

‘It should hold until I can fix the latch,’ he says, looking at it critically.

You smile. ‘You’re a guest, an injured one at that,’ you say, gently. ‘Come on, the stew’s ready, let’s eat.’

Jimin seats himself opposite you, startles you by reaching for your neck.

You put up a hand reflexively, and he puts his hands up.

‘Your neck,’ he says, frowning at the cut in your skin he made yesterday.

‘Ah,’ you say, self- conscious. ‘I should have gone to wash up.’

Up in your small washroom, you clean and patch the cut, take the opportunity to splash your face with water.

Back at the table, Jimin’s served the stew.

‘Can I look at your neck later?’ he asks. ‘I can stitch too.’

‘It’s fine,’ you tell him.

There’s an awkward silence, then you say, trying to explain, ‘there’s a problem with my blood, all my family have it. We bleed easily, and it takes us a while to heal. Ironic really, given we can heal others.’

Jimin looks at you, and there’s an odd flicker of what almost looks like concern in his eyes.

He’s started to warm to you, but this is unexpected.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, sincerity in his voice.

‘It’s fine, please don’t mention it again.’

You don’t wish to discuss it further, you don’t need a dragon rider from Mount Halji delving into your family history.

You’re clearing your plates after the meal when Jimin says, ‘let me help.’

‘You shouldn’t be doing work,’ you chide. ‘You’ll pull at your stitches.’

‘I’m stronger today.’

‘I don’t doubt it,’ you agree. ‘But you did fall out of the sky just yesterday.’

You bite back a smile at his chagrined expression.

‘Do you want to sit in the garden after this?’ you offer. ‘The lavender’s blooming, and it’s a clear night.’

Jimin ends up insisting on helping you put things away before you head out.

You take a seat on the bench at the bottom of the garden, gesture to Jimin to join you.

You hadn’t realised it’d be as tight a fit with two, but Jimin doesn’t seem to mind.

He leans back, face tipped to the sky.

His profile, outlined by dim light from your kitchen, is beautiful, features sharply delineated but with a softness to them that draws you in.

‘Something on my face?’ he asks, quietly.

‘You’re very handsome,’ you tell him, honestly.

He looks almost shy at your compliment.

‘It’s not important for what I do,’ he says, simply.

‘I’m sure it doesn’t hurt,’ you say, teasing him.

He laughs a little. ‘The men I fight aren’t admiring my looks, I can assure you.’

‘Probably not in the middle of battle,’ you agree.

The stars are brighter than ever tonight, you admire the shapes you can trace from point to point.

‘What’s it like?’ you ask. You face Jimin. ‘Being a dragon rider.’

He takes his time answering.

‘I was born into a family of dragon riders,’ he tells you. ‘My mother was one, as was my grandfather. I don’t know much about anything else.’

‘Cygnus is my bonded dragon,’ he continues. ‘We were battling the spirit thieves east of Maisan.’

He grimaces at the memory. ‘We were losing, badly. Namjoon had put out the call to retreat, but I was close to their leader and I thought I could take him.’

He’s tense beside you. ‘I couldn’t let my rashness hurt Cygnus. The instant I realised my folly I jumped. Cygnus wouldn’t have left me otherwise, he would have fought to his death.’

You can’t imagine being responsible for protecting a creature as powerful as a dragon.

‘Did he get away?’ you ask.

‘I think he did,’ Jimin says. ‘I’d feel it if Cygnus was badly hurt.’ His hand stops over his chest for a moment, over the dragon rider mark you saw when tending his wounds.

Jimin gets up.

‘I’ll sleep by the hearth tonight,’ he says. ‘I’ll leave in the morning. Thank you for helping me.’

You look up at him. Even injured, and weary, he’s beautiful in the moonlight.

You feel a pang of wistfulness. He’s the most interesting person you’ve met in a while, you’ve lived your whole life in this village.

You’ve never even ventured to the plains of Daljeon.

You smile a little sadly. ‘No of course, it was my pleasure. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

You watch as Jimin re-enters your cottage.

You stay outside for a bit longer, looking up at the stars, thinking.

***

True to his word, Jimin’s left by the time you wake in the morning.

Your latch is fixed, and the salves you’d left on the table for him, along with some supplies for the journey, are gone.

You set about your daily tasks, mechanically at first, but by midday, you’re inspired.

Turns out having a dragon rider fall into your herb garden was just the push you needed to start planning for all the things you’ve dreamed about doing.

You’re going to visit Daljeon. You know Adara’s got family members who live there who would happily put you up for a night or two, and you’ve always wanted to see the plains.

You’re humming to yourself whilst tending to your rosemary, lost in the pleasure and excitement of planning your trip, when you hear the crash in your kitchen.

Your kitchen door bursts open, and Bern and another man, Kit, exit into your garden.

‘What do you want?’ you ask, standing, your fingers tightening around the garden shears you’re holding.

‘Where is he?’ asks Bern. He’s breathing hard, nearly spitting the words.

‘Who?’ you ask, feigning ignorance.

He takes another step towards you. ‘Your cousin from Eosul,’ he sneers. ‘The one that looked a hell of a lot like a dragon rider.’

‘My cousin left,’ you say, ‘and he’s not a dragon rider.’

The lies fall from your lips easily enough, you don’t owe Bern or Kit any explanations.

‘Now get off my property,’ you say sharply. ‘I don’t want you here unless it’s for business.’

Bern’s quick, you’ll give him that.

In two steps he’s on you, big hand squeezing the wrist holding the shears until you cry out with pain and drop them.

‘Your smart mouth’s going to get you in trouble one of these days, soon,’ Bern says.

He deals you a backhanded slap so hard you end up on the ground, knocking the side of your head on the crate that you keep your seedlings in.

You wish you were brave enough to grab the shears and fight back, but you’re mainly just glad that him and Kit are leaving.

You focus on counting blades of grass until the pain recedes, and more importantly, you can be sure you’re not going to cry.

***

Adara takes one look at your face and ushers you in, clucking over you with grandmotherly concern.

‘You should learn a spell or two to keep Bern in his place,’ she says, once she’s satisfied that the bruise on your temple, unsightly though it is, is just a bruise.

‘Shall I get Bern to teach me?’ you ask, trying to make light of the situation. Bern’s the best spellcaster in the village, you’d never be able to cast a spell strong enough to hold him back.

Your strengths are in healing others.

Adara gives you a quelling look. ‘Or perhaps I can ask Yoongi to teach you a thing or two.’

Yoongi, one of Adara’s nephews, is a sage, and definitely wields enough power to keep Bern in his place. The only problem is he’s intimidatingly good-looking.

You’ve met him a few times, at Adara’s family gatherings, and you’ve never been brave enough to speak to him.

You have no desire for him to find out that on top of your shyness and general social ineptitude that you’re also one of the few Ijilians without a magical bone in your body.

‘I’m sure he’s busy,’ you say to Adara hastily.

‘I’ll ask him,’ Adara says, firmly. Then, in a softer tone, ‘I can’t watch Bern hurt you time and again. He’s got to be taught a lesson.’

You know there’s no point in arguing with her, and truly, maybe you could use a little help.

Bern’s scared you badly the last few times he’s visited.

You change the subject. ‘How’s that tea blend I made you?’

***

The knock on your cottage door is unexpected, but you often have people from the village who drop in to see you.

You crack open the door, hoping it’s not Bern or one of his cronies.

It’s not Bern at all.

It’s Jimin.

The smile blooming on your face stops when you realise he’s not alone. There are other men with him, all of whom are dressed in shades of black and grey, and all of whom have the same distinctive mark.

Sweet Jaesu.

They’re dragon riders.

Jimin puts out his hand, and you realise you’ve taken a step back.

He asks, gently. ‘Can Namjoon and I come in?’

‘Namjoon’ turns out to be Lord Namjoon, Commander of the dragon riders of Mount Halji.

He’s a big man, near enough six feet in height, with shoulders that are nearly the width of the doorframe.

His grasp is firm, strong as he shakes your hand and takes a seat at your tiny kitchen table.

‘We’re here to ask for your help,’ he says.

You glance nervously at Jimin, who’s been quiet apart from his initial greeting.

It’s been a week since you saw him last, you can’t fully see under his armour, but it looks like his neck’s healing well.

Jimin looks a bit like he’s trying to reassure you, or so you think.

‘A woman’s been taken from our hold, the life partner of one of our riders,’ Namjoon explains.

He places a locket on the table in front of you, a small portrait of a smiling family. You catch your breath when you see the baby wrapped in the woman’s arms.

‘We know she’s being held captive in Ijil, probably near the border between Ijil and Daljeon.’

Namjoon says, ‘Jimin says you can be trusted. We’d like to use your cottage as a haven for the riders when we come in to rescue her. Her name is Cha.’

You can’t stop looking at the portrait of Cha and her son. He can’t be more than a year old.

‘If anyone from the village found out I was providing shelter to dragon riders—‘ you begin, thinking of Bern.

‘We know it’s a risk to you, which is why Jimin’s been tasked with protecting you,’ Namjoon says.

You look at Jimin again.

Jimin leans forward. ‘You can say no,’ he says. ‘If it’s too much risk for you just say and we’ll go.’

He hesitates. ‘I — we don’t want any harm to come to you.’

‘Our riders would use your land for one night, two at the most,’ Namjoon says. There’s kindness in his voice. ‘As Jimin says, you can say no and my men and I will leave immediately.’

You’re still looking at the locket.

You make up your mind.

‘You can use my land, and my cottage,’ you tell them. ‘I only ask that you be as discreet as you possibly can.’

‘I give you my word,’ Lord Namjoon says. He nods at you, then takes his leave.

Then it’s just you left, and Jimin.

‘Are you healing well?’ you ask.

‘I’ve been using the salves you made,’ Jimin replies. He smiles at you, and again, you’re struck by his beauty.

‘I’m glad,’ you say, smiling back. ‘If you run out let me know so I can make you more.’

‘Thank you,’ Jimin says. He frowns a little, gestures at your temple, the bruise that’s mostly faded to yellow-green.

‘Bern,’ you say. ‘My friend Adara’s going to ask her nephew to help me spellcast so that he’ll stop bothering me.’

Jimin’s expression darkens. ‘I’ll take care of him, if you want.’

‘What happened to keeping a low profile?’ you ask, lightly.

Jimin’s not amused, but he drops the subject.

***

You’re not used to having so much company, as unobtrusive as the dragon riders are, there are a lot of them.

Jimin’s taken it upon himself to stay close to your side at all times, even accompanying you to forage in the woods.

‘Is this useful?’ he asks, holding up a handful of mushrooms.

‘Only if you want all your men to have belly ache,’ you reply. ‘It’s not the most poisonous, but it’s not for eating.’

Jimin drops the mushrooms.

‘Here,’ you say, gently. ‘If you like mushrooms, the puffballs are always safe.’

He kneels down beside you to help you gather puffballs.

‘These are good,’ you say, pointing more out.

‘I don’t spend a lot of time foraging,’ Jimin admits.

He takes your basket from you as you both rise.

‘You have more important things to do,’ you say, smiling at him.

He looks a little uncertain at first, like he’s not sure if you’re teasing him, then he smiles tentatively back at you.

He’s solicitous as he walks with you through the woods, pointing out where the ground’s uneven, holding back branches you could easily duck under.

‘Are you good at cooking?’ you ask, as you gather nettles.

‘You could teach me,’ he says, with an enthusiasm you find endearing.

‘You could teach me how to use a sword,’ you say.

You’re half jesting but Jimin looks like he’s taking your suggestion seriously.

‘Probably not a sword, but I could show you how to use this,’ he says.

He reaches into his belt and pulls out a sleek, deadly looking dagger.

The blade is thin, almost delicate looking, but it’s wickedly sharp.

Jimin hands it to you, handle first.

‘It’s designed to be just long enough to stop a man’s heart,’ Jimin says, ‘but easily concealed.’

He says, with a seriousness in his face that makes you stop and look at him, ‘I would aim for the chest, up under the ribs, and then run.’

You balance the weapon in your palm, testing the weight of it.

‘I don’t know that I’d have the stomach to stab a man,’ you tell him.

‘You could do it,’ Jimin says. ‘If it came down to him or you.’

He undoes the leather sheath hanging from his belt, resheaths the blade, and hands it to you.

‘Tuck it into your boot,’ he says.

‘I couldn’t take your knife,’ you protest, trying to give it back.

‘I can incapacitate a man bare-handed,’ Jimin says. ‘It’s what I trained to do.’

He gives you a smile, angelic in his beauty, blood in his gaze. ‘I like the idea of you using it on that brute.’

For want of anything better to say, you lean down and slip Jimin’s knife into your boot.

***

The dragon riders make short work of the stew you cook for them that evening, vocal in their appreciation.

One rider, a charming man with a face that is so perfect you almost can’t believe he’s real, goes out of his way to thank you, presenting you with a sheaf of lavender, its heady fragrance filling your tiny kitchen.

You’re flustered by his chivalry, stammering out thanks as he gazes at you, when Jimin takes pity on you.

‘Taehyung, leave her alone.’

‘I’m just giving you the thanks you deserve,’ Taehyung says, ignoring Jimin.

He smiles at you. ‘You must be used to compliments, with a face and form like yours.’

Your entire skin warms.

Jimin sighs. ‘Get out of here, Tae.’

Jimin takes your arm gently.

‘The men need to get ready for tonight. They’ll be leaving as dusk falls.’

‘Are you going?’ you ask.

‘I’ll be here with you,’ Jimin says.

‘Don’t they need you?’

‘My responsibility lies in keeping you safe, given the risk you’ve taken for us,’ Jimin replies.

He helps you clear up the dishes, fills a basin for cleaning them.

‘I wish I were more magical,’ you say, with a rueful look at the stack of used crockery.

Jimin laughs. ‘When I started as a dragon rider I had to wash all the dishes. I can take care of it.’

You tidy up in companionable silence, you almost wish it had taken longer because you like Jimin’s company.

He hums a pretty tune as he works, his tone husky, his silvery voice navigating the notes effortlessly.

You like listening to him.

You catch him glancing your way more than once, gaze warm, a smile playing on his full lips.

‘What is it?’ you ask, finally, conscious of the heat in your face from the mead and his proximity.

‘You’re pretty when you’re flustered,’ Jimin says, a twinkle in his eyes.

Sweet Jaesu, is this beautiful man flirting with you?

You’re even more flustered, almost dropping the plate you’re drying.

Nimbly, Jimin lunges forward and catches it.

‘You’ve been on your feet all day,’ he remarks, placing the plate on top of the stack you’ve made. ‘Why don’t you go sit in the garden and I’ll brew us some tea?’

You’re happy to take him up on his offer, as self-conscious as you feel with his eyes on you like this.

As you walk down the path, you realise the dragon riders have left, as quietly and discreetly as they arrived.

The woods are quiet apart from the occasional hoot of an owl.

You must be more tired than you think, for you’re half asleep by the time Jimin comes down the path.

He’s not carrying tea, and he looks troubled.

‘Cygnus is distressed,’ he tells you.

‘Is he with the dragon riders?’ you ask.

Jimin nods. ‘I can’t work out why through the bond, but he’s unsettled.’

He paces along the path, and he looks so unsettled himself that your heart goes out to him.

‘Can you go to him?’ you ask, hesitantly.

‘My duty is here with you,’ Jimin says.

He looks so conflicted you can’t bear it.

‘I’ll go to Adara,’ you say. ‘She’s a quarter of an hour down the road. I’ll stay with her.’

You put your hand on Jimin’s arm, hoping to soothe him with your touch. ‘You should go.’

Jimin looks at you. ‘Will you promise to stay with her until I come back?’

‘I will,’ you say, trying to reassure him.

He nods, once, then takes off, heading through the woods, his swiftness belying his urgency.

You wonder what he sensed from Cygnus.

You head back inside and start to gather your things.

When your back door opens you almost think it’s Jimin at first, it’s so soon after he left.

‘Did you leave —-‘

The words die on your lips when you realise it’s not Jimin at all.

It’s Bern.

He’s different from how he usually is, eyeing you with a silent intensity that makes your skin prickle.

You’re already reaching down into your boot for Jimin’s dagger when he rushes at you, hand over your mouth, slamming you back against the wall so hard the breath rushes out of you.

‘Traitorous bitch,’ he snarls, hand around your throat, squeezing.

Your fingers scrabble desperately to lift your skirts, grasping for the dagger.

Spots start to dance in your vision as you pull the dagger out, stab it at an angle into his arm.

He roars with fury, his grip loosening on your throat.

You gasp and choke on the rush of air that fills your lungs, coughing and spluttering.

You can see Bern grasping the hilt of the dagger, but the angle’s too awkward for him to reach with his uninjured hand.

You roll away so violently you hit the table, knocking it over.

You scramble to your feet, throw a terrified glance at Bern.

To your horror, he’s got the knife out, slashing at you as you pivot out the open kitchen door.

You don’t have time to do anything but run.

***

You lose track of time as you flee, your heart pounding so hard you can’t hear anything over the rush of blood in your ears.

The moon’s high in the sky before you come to your senses, lungs burning, muscles so tense you can’t stop moving.

It’s only then that you become aware that your sleeve is soaked, sticking to you, matted with blood that looks black in the moonlight.

Your whole arm is covered, blood’s splattered across your chest, and the realisation makes you feel cold.

It’s your blood.

There’s a slash in the sleeve of your gown, a gaping wound beneath where Bern must have cut you.

You curse your family’s bleeding tendencies as you rip the rest of the sleeve off, wrap your arm.

You’re trying to secure a knot with your teeth when you realise that you’re lightheaded.

You lay your head down, close your eyes for just a second.

There’s silence all around you, your last thought as you lose consciousness is a sense of relief that you’ve outrun Bern.

***

Jimin sees the light burning in your kitchen still even though it’s nearly dawn by the time he returns, and he picks up his pace, heart quickening.

His sense of disquiet increases as he sees the kitchen door ajar.

By the time he’s in the kitchen, he feels cold all over.

The table’s overturned, the stack of dishes scattered, but that’s not the worst of it.

There’s a trail of blood leading out the door.

Jimin can hear panting, realises it's him but is powerless to do anything about it.

He makes himself look in the house, calling your name, but he already knows the house is empty.

It’s not difficult to track you, to follow your blood spoor.

Jaesu why is there so much blood?

He finds you curled up behind a copse of bushes, hand splayed under your cheek.

You’d almost look asleep if it weren’t for the ashy greyness to your skin, the pool of blood you’re lying in.

Jimin summons Cygnus through their bond, waits for the dragon to return to him.

It’s only when he sees the tears running down your smooth cheeks that he realises he’s crying.

***

You wake in stages, with the strangest sense of having missed something important.

Where are you?

There’s a beamed roof above your head, softness underneath.

You’re in a bedroom.

You swallow, wincing at how dry your lips and throat feel.

When you sit up the room spins alarmingly around you.

You moan quietly, pressing your curled fists into your eyes.

A soft noise makes you turn abruptly.

When your vision clears you recognise the blond hair, the scar running along his neck.

‘Where am I?’ you croak.

‘My home,’ comes the answer.

Jimin holds a glass to your lips, and you gulp gratefully.

The cool water is a balm to your parched throat.

You take stock of the rest of you, the unfamiliar clothing you’re draped in, the tightness of the binding around your upper arm.

You remember moonlight, the woods, the flash of a blade.

Bern.

You close your eyes but it doesn’t help the barrage of memories.

Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Gradually you become aware of Jimin’s voice, low and soothing.

He’s telling you that you’re safe, and you’re in no condition to do anything but hope he’s right.

***

When you wake again, you’re alone.

There’s another glass of water by your bed, you sit up and drink it down, take stock of yourself again.

Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton but the room isn’t spinning anymore.

You’re dressed in clothes that aren’t your own, but they cover you, at least.

You swing your legs off the bed, hiss as your bare feet touch the cold floor.

You listen for movement around you, but your instincts tell you that there’s no one in your immediate vicinity.

You exit the bedroom, hesitate on the landing, listen again, then carefully navigate the steps down.

Your arm throbs but it’s not bad.

Daylight through the windows of the front room tells you it’s late afternoon.

You look around curiously.

Jimin had told you you were in his home.

There’s a pile of what looks armour next to the door, leather and chain mail, a sword hanging carelessly on a hook in a scabbard.

His voice startles you.

‘You shouldn’t be out of bed,’ he says.

He’s dressed in a cloth tunic and breeches, boots on his feet.

He’s holding an armful of timber, which he stacks beside the fireplace.

‘Come on. I’ve got some broth for you.’

You follow him into his kitchen, much bigger than yours.

He heats up broth on his wood stove, insists on you sitting down.

He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, and you’re grateful for the added warmth despite your initial protests.

He frowns at you.

‘You lost a lot of blood,’ he says.

‘Your dagger saved me,’ you tell him. You shiver a bit. ‘Bern stopped by, after you left.’

There’s regret in his expression. ‘I’m sorry. I promised no harm would come to you from helping us.’

‘Did you get her back?’ you want to know.

‘She’s safe, back with her family,’ Jimin replies.

‘It was worth it, then,’ you murmur.

Jimin sets a bowl in front of you.

‘You getting hurt isn’t a price that’s acceptable to pay,’ he says, very gently.

His words are unexpected, you flick your gaze to his and are surprised by the emotion on his face.

You feel like you should say something, but you can’t think of anything to say.

You settle for a simple ‘thank you’ in acknowledgement.

You manage a few mouthfuls of the broth before the room starts to grey out around the edges.

Jimin’s voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away.

The last thing you remember is him saying your name, his strong hands grasping your arms.

Everything fades to black.

***

It’s another few days before you’re strong enough to walk around Jimin’s cottage again, to venture out into his garden.

Jimin’s constantly by your side, it doesn’t take you long to realise he’s trying to protect you rather than that he doesn’t trust you.

You can’t help but laugh when he tuts as you bend over to pick up dandelion leaves for tea.

‘Let me do it,’ he chides.

‘You don’t know anything about herbs,’ you say, still amused.

‘You can teach me,’ Jimin says.

He frowns. ‘Did you hurt your arm?’

‘From plucking dandelion leaves?’

Jimin has to smile, at that.

‘You shouldn’t exert yourself too much,’ he says.

‘Says the man who fell out of the sky and chopped wood for my fire the next day,’ you say, pointedly.

‘You’re not a dragon rider,’ Jimin replies.

His words remind you that you have responsibilities to return to.

‘I should get back home,’ you say.

‘It’s the Yuletide festival next week,’ Jimin says. ‘I was hoping you might stay for that.’

He looks at you hopefully. ‘There’s a banquet at the Hold, a feast, games, drinks.’

You consider his offer.

He nudges you gently.

‘I’ve been told I’m an attentive partner,’ Jimin says, coaxing.

You laugh at the idea that you might be anything but thrilled to have the handsome dragon rider on your arm.

‘I’m sure you’re not short of offers,’ you scoff.

‘I could say the same for you,’ Jimin remarks. ‘You’re very pretty.’

His compliment makes you feel a little hot and flustered.

‘I’ll go with you, you don’t have to flatter me,’ you say dryly.

‘I’m not,’ Jimin says. He beams at you. ‘I’m looking forward to you accompanying me.’

***

You wake up one morning to murmured voices downstairs.

You slip on the slippers and woollen shawl Jimin gave you and head down to investigate.

Jimin’s sitting at his kitchen table, and he’s not alone.

You’ve only met him the one time, but there’s no mistaking the aura of power that surrounds Lord Namjoon.

Both men rise as you enter.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ you say, bowing.

Two things happen at once.

‘You’re not interrupting,’ Jimin says, reaching for your arm just as Lord Namjoon drops to one knee before you.

‘I seek your forgiveness,’ Lord Namjoon says, looking up at you.

‘I vowed you would come to no harm as a result of helping me and my men, and you nearly lost your life as a result.’

You’re too surprised to speak.

‘I owe you a debt for helping us recover one of our own safely,’ he continues.

He looks at Jimin.

‘And for helping my second in command when he was injured.’

You flounder. ‘He landed in my tomatoes,’ you point out, faintly.

Lord Namjoon’s lips twitch, and a dimple appears in his cheek.

‘What I’m saying is, we repay those who help us. If there’s ever anything I can assist you with, you only have to ask.’

You can’t imagine ever asking this powerful man for anything.

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘Please get up.’

Jimin says, ‘It isn’t often that Namjoon kneels in front of anyone, not even when he’s bested in a spar.’

Namjoon shoots Jimin a testy look. ‘I’d say that she has more than earned it.’

‘Oh agreed,’ Jimin says. He looks at you. ‘May I invite him to stay for breakfast with us?’

‘It’s your cottage,’ you say, flummoxed.

‘But you’re my most important guest,’ Jimin says.

‘He can stay,’ you say.

‘Sure,’ agrees Jimin. ‘Just let me know if you want me to kick him out. He can be quite annoying.’

His comment startles a laugh out of you.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and you get the sense that he’s not unused to being treated with irreverence by Jimin, despite his status.

Jimin pulls out a chair for you.

‘Sit,’ he says. ‘Breakfast will be ready in a minute.’

***

You put on the velvet gown Jimin’s given you, and are pleasantly surprised by your reflection in the looking glass.

The colour makes your skin glow, and the fit is perfect.

Jimin’s already waiting when you come down the stairs, and he looks handsome enough to make your heart flutter.

He’s staring at you like he’s the one transfixed.

He clears his throat, holds up the cloak clutched in his hands.

‘I hope this is warm enough,’ he says, helping you drape it over your shoulders.

The lining of the cloak is sheepskin, warm and soft, but it’s really the feel of his hands on you that make your skin heat.

He clears his throat again, the husky rumble of it behind your ear making a thrill race through your spine.

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘And for the dress, too.’

‘You look very beautiful in it,’ he says.

Your eyes meet. He seems like he means every word.

He smiles, offers his arm. ‘I’m looking forward to this.’

‘Me too.’

The hold where the Yuletide festival is being held is huge, teeming with people, all dressed in shades of gold and green, wrapped in furs and sheepskin against the cold.

You instinctively step closer to Jimin as a group of merrymakers passes by, startling you.

He presses a hand against the small of your back, steadying you.

‘There’s no one who’ll wish you harm here,’ he says, gentle, offering you his arm.

You feel your ears warm, embarrassed that he noticed.

‘I know,’ you say. ‘Besides, you’re here.’

Jimin reaches over, tugs your cloak tighter around you.

His fingers brush your jaw. ‘I’m here,’ he agrees.

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear.

‘You’re shivering,’ he says. ‘Let me get you a drink.’

You’re saved from explaining that it’s not the cold you’re shivering from, but his touch.

Jimin leads you into a huge hall, where an entire feast has been laid out on banquet tables.

Everyone you pass greets Jimin with affection, he seems to be well-liked. You get more than one curious look, but more often than not it’s accompanied by a warm smile.

Jimin’s still got your hand tucked in his arm, warm against his side.

The sweet spicy mead he gave you warms your insides.

You hear your name called, and realise it’s Taehyung, the dragon rider who complimented your cooking.

‘Hey,’ he says, beaming at you, looking genuinely pleased, so handsome your heart flutters a little. ‘It’s nice to see you out and about.’

His voice drops, his expression sobering. ‘We heard you’d been injured, badly.’

‘I’m better now,’ you say.

‘Come sit with us,’ Taehyung says, waving you over to where a group of dragon riders are sitting.

You recognise some faces, and at the head of the table Lord Namjoon inclines his head at you in greeting.

Jimin serves you himself, filling your plate and mug.

You catch Taehyung exchanging a look with another dragon rider, you think he’s called Minho.

‘Jimin, my plate’s empty too,’ Minho says.

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. ‘Serve yourself, Minho.’

Taehyung nudges your shoulder.

‘Usually, it’s our women who are tripping over themselves to serve Jimin,’ he says, smiling at you. ‘He’s usually not short of attention.’

Jimin flushes. ‘Don’t listen to them,’ he tells you.

‘I’m not surprised he gets attention,’ you say to Taehyung, unfazed. ‘He’s the kindest man I know.’

Jimin glances at you, what looks like surprise in his expression.

‘Eat,’ he says, finally.

After the banquet Jimin takes you outside again as the quarter of troubadours begin to play a merry tune.

‘Do you dance?’ Jimin asks. Without waiting for an answer, he draws you into a circle of people dancing around a fire.

He’s a good dancer, you realise. There’s something about the line of his body as he moves that makes heat burn through your skin.

He leans closer.

‘You look very beautiful,’ he tells you.

You’re still looking at him as he leans closer still, but the moment his lips touch yours, your eyes close.

He tastes of mead, spiced and warm, and the gentleness of his kiss makes you seek his mouth again as he pulls away.

‘Jimin,’ you say, against his ear.

His gaze meets yours, and the heat in them makes your core tighten.

‘Take me home,’ you say, and he does.

***

Jimin’s profile is beautiful outlined in the light of the half-moon.

He kisses down your neck, the hardness of his chest against yours thrilling and frightening all at once.

You can feel the strength coiled in his taut frame, the way he tempers it with the reverence in his hands and lips as he touches you, kisses your skin.

‘I want to pleasure you,’ he tells you. ‘More than anything.’

He pulls moans and gasps from you as he tugs the tips of your breasts between his fingers and thumbs, fondling your flesh until you’re panting, thighs parting automatically to take him in between.

His hardness presses against your centre, the weight of him making your hips move up automatically to take more.

Jimin gives you more, lowering his mouth to your breasts, slipping a hand down to cup between your legs.

His fingers slide through your heat, thumb over your swollen bud, circling, pressing, and you cry out with pleasure as the coil inside you snaps unexpectedly.

Jimin groans, keeps toying with your clit as you cry his name.

The pleasure doesn’t fade so much as it ebbs, carrying on as Jimin presses himself into you, his rigid length filling you, his cockhead stretching your walls, each thrust making you gasp and bite down on his shoulder.

‘I like that,’ he groans, deeper, voice guttural now as he moves inside you.

You curl your legs around his hips, ankles crossed in the small of his back, one arm hooked over his shoulders.

‘Ride me like I’m riding you,’ he urges, breathless now. ‘Just like that.’

You cry out from the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin on skin, the slickness between your bodies.

He moans, low, and the sound of it pushes you over the edge again.

The wetness that coats him seems to spur him on, he cries out into your skin and a moment later you can feel him flexing inside you as he fills you.

He collapses on you, arms around you, tight, holding you to him.

It’s a few moments before either of you speak.

You trace a finger over the scar along his neck that you sewed together, and it takes you a minute to realise his hand is curled over your own neck, thumb over the tiny scar of the cut he made.

‘If you’ll let me, I’ll spend my life atoning for this,’ he says, touching the scar. There’s regret in his eyes.

‘Don’t waste your life doing that,’ you say, the smile on your face making him smile too. ‘Show me the world instead.’

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I have a dragon who can help us with that.’

‘Sounds perfect,’ you agree.

©hamsterclaw 2023

#bangtan christmas #bangtan christmas 2023 #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #bts smut

281 notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 9 months

Text

Lovin' You Right ༓ jjk (m)

✑ Summary: Your new badass neighbor won't leave you alone. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

Pairing: new neighbor!jungkook x fem!reader

AU/genre: angst, fluff, smut, e2l, neighbors, oneshot/drabble

Word Count: 2,031

Warnings: cussing, dom!jungkook, sub!reader, missionary, praising, rough s*x, d*rty talk, sp*nking overst*mulation, reader's first-time, sl*t calling once, oc a bit of an uptight b at first, little manhandling, jk rides a motorcylce, jk giving it to oc straight, a very wet date bc MV made me do it

Now Playing: seven by jjk

A/N: no explanation, this is just what i thought of when i listened to jungkook's song 'seven'. Hope you enjoy! 💞

He looked like a real hard ass with all the black leather he wore, arms covered in ink, and chains hanging from his neck. You know the type, the guy your mama wouldn't want you bringing home.

He was your next-door neighbor and he rode a mean motorcycle. It was loud as fuck and woke you up about ten times during the night. And every time he saw you in the hallway? He'd have this shit-eating grin on, like he wanted to devour you whole.

"Think our mail got switched up again," he said, handing you a pile of letters. "Gonna need to talk to the mail man or somethin'."

"Oh geez," you replied, doing your best to avoid eye contact of more than three seconds–his eyes were just a little too piercing. "Thanks." You shoved the letters under your arm and carried on your way. It was laundry day and you desperately needed to have clean clothes.

"Hey wait," he kept on your trail. "How's your day goin'?" He rushed ahead to open the laundry room door, allowing you to go first.

Look at him trying to be a gentleman, hmph. You held your head high and walked through the door. He'd break your heart as quick as he'd take it.

Like an itch that won't go away, Jungkook followed you as much as he could. No matter how much you scratched, he'd be right there, burning holes in the back of your neck. He'd watch you dump your clothes in the washer, walk you to your car whenever you needed to go anywhere, hell he even helped you carry in groceries when given the chance.

"What do you want Jeon?" You finally popped the question. He didn't look like he was simply "being generous" or "doing his part to make the world better". He was bumming around for something, he had to be.

"Go out with me," he simply quipped, knocking the air out of your lungs.

"Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes, he was too old for beating around the bush and he was fed up with you giving him the silent finger. Not once have you told him to beat it straight to his face so he's gonna shoot his shot. "Yes or no __? You know I like you, why else would I be bugging the crap out of you?"

"'Cause you want to fuck me then leave me for your other neighbor, the one who lives on the other side of your door." You crossed your arms against your chest. "Tell me I'm wrong."

He narrowed his eyes, tiniest of smirks on his overly gorgeous, no good, lying face. " No you're right. I do wanna fuck that pretentious attitude you got. It's been pissing me off for weeks."

He took a step towards you, caging you between himself and your kitchen island. "What gives you the right to be this bitchy huh? You act like you know everything there is to know about me, but you're too damn stubborn to open your eyes and see it's all a complete farce." He leaned his head forward to graze his lips along the edge of your ear. "I don't know what little girl fairytales you've been taught but I'm not the monster you need to watch out for....and prince charmings don't exist, princess."

You shoved your hands against his chest but he grips them tight in his own. "We don't have to go out anymore. I see what you really think of me."

He released your wrist and headed for the door. "It's really a shame," he hollered before leaving. "You're really beautiful."

God you hated him.

For the next week, Jungkook was no where in sight. He didn't come see you, he didn't bring you anything, he went completely M.I.A. It was a breath of fresh air but by the second week, you wondered where he was and if he was okay. He did drive a motocylce afterall, maybe he got in an accident and you didn't know.

You stared at his door, hesistant to knock in fear if him actually being in there. He'd likely laugh you off when he saw you, so you purposefully picked a time he'd most likely be out and about anyway. You hated that you kinda knew his schedule.

Jungkook quirked an amused brow at you when he finally cranked his door open. He was wearing light washed jeans and no under shirt, his pecs were on full display. "What can I do for you princess?"

"Nothing," you spat, definitely not looking below his thick neck. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid yet."

"Checking up on me huh?" He put an elbow on the door frame, eyes darkening. "That's sweet."

"Fuck off. You're healthy it seems so I'm gonna go check up on the other neighbors now. I think Mrs. Baker set the fire alrms off the other day so I need to make sure she's oka—"

You're arm was yanked back as soon as you moved to turn around. "Fuck you're bullshit __. You missed me didn't ya?"

"Not much to miss Jeon." You're such a liar, Jungkook muttered to himself. The whole world could see you were having a conversation with his pecs this whole time—too damn timid to look him in the eyes.

"Shut up and say you'll go out with me already. I'm tired of waiting for your ass to come around."

You swallowed your pride and there you were, watching Jungkook splash in every single puddle. He just had to propose going out the one day it was storming out.

"Wipe that sour look off your face!" He stomped in the water, drenching you entirely.

You shrieked at the sudden coldness. Big droplets of water soaked your face, clothes, shoes, everything. "You're such a child Jungkook!"

He ignored you and wrapped his muscular arms around you. The white tank he wore was drenched as well. "You're having fun, admit it."

You scoffed. The only reason you agreed to go out was to show him how ridiculous it would be for the two of you to go out. You and Jungkook were likely the most incompatible people for each other. While he was out riding his bike with heavy metal blasting, you were watching the latest law drama in you're pajamas. It was only a matter of time before this expirament of his would show him the true results of your intermingling.

"C'mon," he took you by the hand and dragged you through the rain. "Just be in the moment __. Let the rain shower over you and be free!" He grabbed your other hand and began spinning you both in circles.

"I'm going to get dizzy."

"Then only look at me. Look at me and don't worry about what's around us. Focus on a single subject and you won't get dizzy." He pulled you by the waist, forcing you to stare straight at him.

He was right. The dizziness went away but your knees feel like jelly.

"What's holding you back?" Jungkook smiled and it was the most genuine smile you'd ever seen. "Look at me __. Look at us. What do you see?"

As you stood there in the pouring rain, a pair of deep, boy-like eyes locked with yours. This was him, the thought dawned on you, a soft-hearted guy who wasn't afraid to open himself up.

You felt a pang of guilty settle in your gut–you weren't the better person like you so believed. You're closed off, comfortable in your space. Skeptical of anyone and everyone. You were wrong to see Jungkook as a careless, arrogant, motorcycle thug and it was a hard pill for you to swallow.

"I don't know." You replied softly, shivering at the faintest touch of his fingers supporting on your back. "I'm sorry, I don't know Jungkook."

"Well I see something worth sticking around for, rain or shine. I think I've become an idiot for you and I don't think that bothers you as much as you let on. You sought me out after I gave you space and I've literally been playing in the puddles this whole date and you haven't ditched me yet. So if you want some more of this, I'll give it to you with open hands, open heart, and I'll make sure to be loving you right." He winked before finishing. "As many days as you'd like."

Jungkook didn't give you much time to respond before he pressed his lips against your own. He made sure to go gentle, barely brushing them over your lips.

You understood immediately–if you wanted this, you were going to have to be the one to seal the deal.

And you did, kissing him with full force. You hoped you wouldn't regret this in the morning.

Ever since that night, you and Jungkook had started going out. It was slow at first but six months later, you and he finally made your relationship official.

"Shh," he cooed above you. He was a bit of a blur due to the pitch darkness of the room but you felt him everywhere. He was straddling your naked sides, praising your body like it was art. "Doing so good for me baby, making me so hard–fuck."

It was your first real-time being with a man and being your new boyfriend, Jungkook made sure to be extra attentive. "Kook," you moaned, back arching and pussy throbbing from where he had recently entered you.

He dragged his thick length out of you before slamming back in, a little rougher than the previous thrust. "That's it," he said through gritted teeth. "Let me hear those pretty moans. Been dying to hear them since I first saw you in those cute little sweat shorts you like walking to the laundry room in."

"Faster Kook, please." You gripped his muscular back, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. You needed him lodged so far in your gut that you'd literally see stars. "Plea–please."

"Shit baby, if you start begging this early I can't promise you I won't go completely feral and I don't want to hurt you."

"I want all of you Jungkook," you said. "You said you'd love me right, so do it." And that's all it took for your boyfriend to lock down on your waist with firm hands, pounding into you with all he had.

You tried looking up at him, wanting to look him dead in the eye as he fucked into you but you couldn't handle it. He was dripping with sweat, his muscles were tense, veins were protruding out of neck, and his teeth were clamped shut. He was focused and he knew what he was doing. You on the other hand were a complete opposite story.

"Jung-Jungkook, oh god, fuck!" You screamed incoherently. His big cock reached every inch inside you, stretching you out with every snap of his hips. Never in your life had you had so much pleasure in a short amount of time. And embarrasing it may be, you were definitely going to come far before the usual.

"Look at you fucking falling apart already. Too much for your tight little pussy to handle isn't it? Well you begged for this, and now you're gonna take this cock like a big girl aren't ya," he barked, landing a sharp slap to your ass.

"Shit!" You yelped, clenching around him automatically. "Gonna come Kook...please-please. It's my first time I-"

You came without finishing the plead, sticky white substance ran down your thighs and onto the sheets. Jungkook's wet length continues to move in you, pushing some of your cum back in. The erotic squelching makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"Mhm yeah." He planted a trail of rough kisses up your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin. "And now you're gonna come again, and again, and again til you're dripping with my cum. I'm gonna then eat you out while my fingers play with your clit. But congrats on your first-time baby, because from here on out, you're gonna become my slut , and I'll be fucking you seven days a week."

A/N: written a little different than usual but yeah...haha idk. Tysm for reading and lmk your thoughts 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

2K notes · View notes

httpknjoon · 7 months

Text

her majesty | jjk

plot | This is how the rumors began between a princess and a rockstar.

words | 615

genres | fluff, humor/crack, modern royalty!au, celebrity!au

pairing | rockstar!jungkook x princess!reader

note | this one happened months after my last update!! enjoy reading <3

main masterlist | drabble series

Sweet September’s Jungkook Posts His Cover of The Beatles’ Song, Her Majesty

Spoiler alert: It might be dedicated to someone *royal*

Last night, the lead vocalist of Sweet September shared a thirty-second song cover on his Instagram account. The said video only shows Jungkook wearing a white button-up while playing an acoustic guitar in what his fans claim is his kitchen. Within just twelve hours, the video reached almost twenty million views and was posted on various social media sites by his supporters. Some fans claimed that the song was meant for someone *royal*.

In the clip captioned with a crown and yellow heart emojis, Jungkook sang The Beatles’ Her Majesty. The song was a hidden track in the band’s eleventh album, Abbey Road.

Earlier this year, fans noticed the attendance Princess YN of Zafiro made at two of Sweet September’s concerts during their Denim Jungle tour. In the first one, she was seen with her sister, Princess Astrid. For the second one, the crown princess was spotted by a few fans in the band’s performance in New York just a day after the Met Gala. She was said to be seen wearing a particular ID only given to staff and special guests.

Many sources told E! News that there are sightings of the princess and the rockstar together in various places.

“I saw Jungkook approach Princess YN during the Met Gala.” an anonymous Twitter user posted. “He stayed and chatted with her until she left with her assistant.”

Another source stated, “Although Princess YN and Jungkook are both busy with their different lives, they really try to make time for each other. He (Jungkook) liked the princess before he even met her, That’s why he really took the chance when he saw it.”

It’s no secret to Sweet September fans that the lead vocalist has his eyes set on Princess YN. It was revealed years ago when each band member was asked about their ideal type and celebrity crushes.

“Oh, mine is totally not from the entertainment industry.” a nineteen-year-old Jungkook answered.

“Yeah, JK. We all know it’s Princess YN–” Mingyu was then cut off by Jungkook’s forced coughs.

Back to the song cover, Jungkook can be seen smiling as he sang the lyrics. He even smiled wider while singing the last line,

“Someday I'm gonna make her mine, oh yeah. Someday I'm gonna make her mine.”

The rumor between you and Jungkook was still new and growing when the song cover was posted. Various articles were later posted from numerous media sites with the same rumor topic. It’s a piece of surprising news for everyone since it involves a royal princess and a famous rockstar. With this, supporters of Jungkook’s and yours had mixed reactions to the ongoing rumor.

@/DENIMBLUE: so they are really dating?????

@/ynandastridslay: lol this rumor going around abt princess yn is just impossible.

@/jeonswatch: i just know jungkook is kicking his feet giggling twirling his hair when he heard that song before

@/sweeties09: omg so maybe my sister is not lying when she said she served jk and that princess in a mcdonalds drive thru 🤠

Replying to @/sweeties09

- @/carminwoojung: EXCUSE ME WHAT???

– @/gigglysun: abi when did she told u that???!?

— @/sweeties09: it was like after the band’s performance in new york months ago

@/ZafiroPrincessesFan: The King and Queen would never let the Princess date a rockstar. It’s just totally against the tradition. #.FakeNews

@/goldencrown: wth are these rumors??? Jungkook is dating louise right?

@/PopCrave: Netizens spotted Princess YN’s official Instagram account liking Jungkook’s latest Instagram post before unliking it an hour later.

Replying to @/PopCrave

- @/user90249853: someone’s finger slipped lmao

– @/bluemoon04: not her forgetting to switch accounts 😭✊

taglist rules

THE PRINCESS AND THE ROCKSTAR TAGLIST

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yelenasdiary · 6 months

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Once Upon A Dream

Pairing: Military! Yelena Belova x Fem! Nurse! Reader

Summary: Yelena surprises you and shared daughter with a vacation to remember!

Warnings: Teeny Tiny Angst, Fluff, Mentions of scars, Brief Mention of PTSD | 2.3K

Translations: милый (darling), Detka (baby),

AC: I think this little AU deserves a happy fic, so enjoy! Also friendly reminder, this is the only variant of Yelena that I can see having a child, if this isn’t your vibe, don’t read xx.

"Where are we going?" you turned to your wife who grabbed the last suitcase from the trunk of the Uber's car. "You'll find out tonight" Yelena replied with a cheeky smirk on her lips, with a shack of your head at her you grabbed your suitcase with your free hand, Natalia holding your other before the three of you walked into the airport. Natalia now a 5-year-old was most excited to be going on her first plane ride rather than finding out what her Mama had planned for the family of three.

Yelena did everything in her power to keep the surprise from slipping, she checked in the three of you while you sat near the terminal with Natalia. "Mommy when do we get on the plane?" she asked, holding her stuffed Maleficent as a dragon plushie. "You'll have to ask mama peanut, when she gets back" you replied. The little girl with blonde hair and big green eyes threw herself on the seat beside you and huffed making you raise a brow slightly at her little outburst.

"Everything is all set" Yelena smiled as she sat down beside you, keeping the plane tickets out of view. "Mama, can we get on the plane now?" Natalia asked looking over you to Yelena, "Shortly милый, come here, I have a secret to tell you" Your wife gestured for the little girl to walk over to her with her index finger. Natalia loved secrets, mainly because she loved the tickle feeling she got whenever somebody whispered into her ear. You watched as your daughter's face lit up rather quickly with whatever your wife just whispered to her, she jumped up and down trying to keep herself from squealing which only made your mind run through ideas of what Yelena could possibly have planned.

The flight was 5.5 hours long, Natalia was asleep with her head resting against your forearm as she slept peacefully between you and Yelena. "She's not going to sleep tonight" you whispered to your wife.

"I've already got that part covered; don't you worry about a single thing" Yelena winked before her eyes returned to the book in her hand. By now you were just desperate to know what Yelena was up too, she just returned from a 10-month deployment a week ago and ever since coming home she had been very secretive.

It wasn't until the three of you were in the backseat of another Uber that Yelena finally told you what was happening. With a slightly tired little girl sitting in between you both, Yelena reached into her backpack and pulled out three horned headbands.

"So, this is where I can't keep the secret anymore" Yelena looked at you, handing you a headbang with a soft smile, "We're spending a week at Disneyland!" she added. Natalia put on her maleficent themed headband and looked up at you with the biggest smile, "Mama said Maleficent will be there!!!" she boosted. You couldn't help but smile before reaching over Natalia and kissing Yelena deeply, "surprise detka" she smiled against your lips.

Yelena knew how much you've wanted to experience Disneyland with the three of you but the dream had become such a long distant thought over the past few years that you almost forgot all about it. "Thank you" you replied before kissing her again. Yelena had planned everything to perfection, not a single thing was left unthought of. Your little family would be staying in a 2-bedroom suite at Disney's Grand Californian Hotel & Spa and Yelena wasn't lying when she said she had Natalia getting some more sleep covered.

Once at the hotel, you helped Natalia get into her Moana themed pjs before Yelena reminded her that she needs to get a goodnights sleep before she goes on a magical adventure tomorrow. Of course, only after a bedtime story was the little girl who was almost too much of a spitting image of her mother asleep snuggled into her plushie.

"Honey" you spoke softly has you unpacked the toiletries and placed them on the bathroom countertop. Yelena came up behind you, instantly wrapping her arms around your waist, "yes my love?" She smiled before placing a kiss on your cheek. It was already getting late, soon to be 10pm and you had no idea what Yelena had planned for tomorrow. You turned in her arms, wrapping your arms around the back of her neck with a bottle of cream in one hand.

"How long have you had this planned?" You asked with a soft smile.

"Months, I had Nat help me book stuff while I was away. If you think the surprises stop here, you're wrong" she replied before kissing your lips softly, "Kate is going to fly out here in 2 days and watch Natalia so we can have some time alone" she added. You and Yelena haven't had a decent chance to have some one on one time for a long time, between her deployments, having Natalia & your own deployment, finding time for each other was almost near impossible but you both made do with what you had.

"You really are full of surprises" your smile grew, "could you please?" You asked, bringing the cream in your hand to Yelena's view. She nodded, "go lay down detka, I'll be there in a moment, just going to brush my teeth" she replied before kissing you deeply once more. This new part of your nightly routine was never your favorite but somehow, Yelena was able to make you forget why she was rubbing cream into the scars on your back. Maybe it was the way she kissed every single one of them before she worked her hands softly and tenderly over them with cream while she told you jokes that she found hilarious.

Or maybe it was how tightly she held you close to her afterwards, whispering sweet nothings as you fell into a slumber in her protective and loving arms. Either way, she made the process easier.

——

Natalia was up bright and early at 6am with pure excitement for the day ahead. She slipped out of bed and was quick to her Maleficent horned headband before running into your shaded room with your wife and jumping on the two of you.

"Mommy wake up!!" She shook you awake before Yelena wrapped her arms around her making her squeal as her mother covered her little face with kisses. "Mama!!! That tickles!!" Your daughter giggled in the arms of your wife while your eyes adjusted to being awake.

You smiled softly as you watched your wife hop off the bed with your daughter still in her arms, flying her around the room. "Faster Mama!!!" Natalia giggled, her arms spread wide as if she was an airplane. It always amazed you just how much energy Yelena had so early in the morning while it was a bit of a struggle for you to wake up without a warm mug of coffee or tea depending on the weather.

"Bug do you want a bath this morning or a shower? You didn't haven't one last night" you asked your daughter as Yelena placed her back on her feet and you sat up in bed.

"Shower! I'm a big girl now!" She replied with confidence.

"I'll help her, you get some coffee into you. We have breakfast reservations at 8" Yelena said as she wandered over to her suitcase. "Can I wear my horns today mama?" Natalia asked as she jumped back up onto the large bed and instantly cuddled you. "I've got the perfect outfit for you sweetheart!" Yelena replied as she turned around with a child sized Maleficent costume in hand, "what do you think?" she asked with a smile.

Natalia's eyes widened at the costume before she nodded her head ecstatically. Thanks to Kate, Maleficent was your daughter's favorite Disney character, she loved how Maleficent was able to transform into a dragon, it blew her mind when Kate had Maleficent: Mistress of all evil playing in the background once while babysitting Natalia.

Breakfast was a whole new experience for your little one, Yelena booking a table for 3 at Disney Princess Breakfast Adventure, giving Natalia a breakfast experience that she'll never forget. Entering the restaurant, you were greeted by 2 different princesses and of course, Natalia's eyes lit up when she saw one of them was Aurora.

She let go of your hand and ran up to the woman in the pink dress, you couldn't help yourself but capture the moment on your phone while your daughter played her role as maleficent and made jokes about putting a spell on the princess. Your eyes looked over to your wife who was watching the event unfold in front of her, a soft smile on her lips and a loving look in her eyes made you realise this trip was something Yelena needed for herself as well. A whole different environment, surrounded by excitement, love and other families to help her forget the events she had experienced recently.

The rest of the day was spent at Disneyland, Yelena taking Natalia on multiple rides over and over again, shopping of course, stopping every few steps to meet the next famous character walking around the theme park. Everything was so exciting for Natalia, her smile glued to her face the entire day, as for you, you had to capture so many moments on your phone's camera causing a growing excitement to make a scrapbook when you returned home.

"Can we go again mama?! Pleaseeee?" Natalia begged to go another round on the Dumbo the Flying Elephant ride.

"We can't detka, we have to get to the Halloween party for your big surprise remember?" Yelena replied with her hand reaching out for your daughter to cling onto. Natalia ran to her mother's side without a second thought, the three of you began to walk towards the Halloween party. The area was surrounded by other Disneyland goers as they all crowed some of the characters standing out the front while others took pictures and videos with them.

"I can't see mama!" Natalia looked up at Yelena. Natalia was a little shorter than most children her age, but it never usually bothered her until it came to doing things that required her height to be taller. You watched as your wife picked up your daughter and placed her on her shoulders, another moment for you to capture on your phone.

"Mommy! Mama!! Look!!!" Your daughter pointed with excitement as a woman dressed as Maleficent came out of the building, Natalia's face lit up instantly as she watched the fairy make her presence known.

"Well, Well" the character spoke, their eyes looking around at the crowd of families and couples. "I don't like children but –" the fairy pointed to your daughter, "you, come here" she added. If Natalia had moved any faster your wife would've dropped her, she placed her on her feet before apologizing to those around her when Natalia pushed her way through to the character that she was dressed as.

"Hi Maleficent!" Your daughter spoke with high confidence, a wide smile and a little sparkle in her eyes. The woman played the character all too well and Natalia loved every single moment. "Don't you look terribly evil today" Maleficent spoke followed by her famous chuckle, "and what evil things have you done today child?" she asked.

"I made my mama go on lots of rides!" Natalia boosted making both you and your wife chuckle.

"Where is your Mama?" Maleficent asked as she looked up at the crowd, "are you mama?" she pointed at Yelena when she saw you both laughing. Yelena nodded, "and that's my mommy!" Natalia added.

"Well you better come forward, move out of the way people" Maleficent replied as she gestured for you and Yelena to take a few steps forward to get the best quality photos of the moment.

"Now, maybe you can help me child" the fairy turned to your daughter one more, "have you seen young Aurora around by chance?" she asked. Natalia nodded, "she was at the restaurant I had breakfast at!"

"Did you cast a spell on her for me?" Maleficent's question followed.

"Yes! I put a sleeping spell on her!" Your daughter replied, even though she didn't think of such a thing, she was soaking up the moment she was sharing with her favorite villain. "Well done child, keep being evil and have a happy Halloween" Maleficent did her evil laugh once more before posing with Natalia.

----

After dinner at one of Disney's restaurants, the three of you stuck around for a fireworks show at 7pm. You could tell that Natalia would sleep like a log tonight, she was already so tired as you carried her to the viewing spot, Yelena's hands full of the bags of shopping she'd taken you and Natalia to before dinner. All throughout dinner your daughter couldn't stop talking about her meet and greet with Maleficent and you could tell by the look on Yelena's face that she was proud of herself for making sure this little vacation happened.

As the fireworks began, Yelena wandered over to a nearby bench and sat down with her eyes glued to the ground. You knew the display was triggering her PTSD but before you could do anything, Natalia asked for you to put her down. You watched as she walked over to Yelena, "it's okay mama, I'll keep you safe" You heard her little innocent voice over the fireworks as she wrapped her tiny arms around your wife. Your eyes teared up, Natalia had no idea why her mother disliked fireworks so much, but she knew they scared her and she did exactly what you and Yelena did whenever there was a thunderstorm, be there for her.

You wandered over to your girls and sat down beside Yelena, placing your head on her shoulder. The three of you watched the firework display, on of Yelena's hands rested on your knee while her other was wrapped around Natalia in a tight hug. "I love you mama" Natalia whispered once the fireworks were over, placing a kiss on her cheek.

#fanfiction #yelena belova #marvel #yelena belova x reader #military! yelena #black widow #hawkeye

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yyunari · 6 months

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HEESEUNG 02. ⏱﹕ꕤ﹔ OFF THE RECORD NIGHT !

lee heeseung couldn’t stand hearing jake talk about his crush on y/n l/n any longer. but after he finds himself entangled with the girl in a late night conversation, perhaps his mindset shifts.

⌇＃GENRE ◠﹒fluff + (american) college au ＃PAIRING ◠﹒lee heeseung x fem! reader ＃WARNINGS ◠﹒heeseung is kind of mean and a bitch LMFAO also poor jake

if lee heeseung were to hear the name y/n l/n one more time that day, he would officially lose his shit.

it started when jake invited heeseung over to his dorm. hanging out with jake was supposed to help him relax before their midterms but as expected, the conversation had turned over to the topic of girls.

heeseung admitted to not being romantically interested in anyone. of course he found girls at their university attractive, but there wasn’t quite anyone he would see himself dating. the hot girls either had boyfriends or weren’t interested in him.

on the other hand, jake claimed that there was one girl in his major he found really pretty. he sugar coated it by saying he just admired the way she looked in a few of their classes together. that was, until jake’s roommate exposed him.

“jake has a crush on her!” sunghoon, who was jake’s roommate, stated while passing by the two in the common area.

heeseung whipped his head around at jake, who held a sheepish expression and sunghoon’s words.

for someone to get jake so flustered… heeseung wanted to know who it was.

“who’s the girl?” heeseung inquired, accompanied by a little giggle. he felt silly acting in such a way as if it was a schoolgirl crush, but even heeseung could admit that there was nothing more heart fluttering than the topic of love.

jake was hesitant to answer, but eventually he let it out.

“it’s y/n l/n, the girl who lives next door.”

at the reveal, heeseung raised an eyebrow. y/n l/n?

he was familiar with her because he also had a fair amount of classes with her. she was relatively smart and when no one had an answer to a question, she would be the one to raise her hand. she also seemed to have a kind personality and was constantly seen talking to new people each day.

and heeseung wasn’t a liar, he could even admit she was a pretty attractive girl.

but for jake to have a crush on her? she didn’t really seem to stand out all that much.

it got worse when the topic of y/n couldn’t seem to leave jake’s mouth for the rest of the night. anything they spoke about, jake would somehow tie it back to y/n.

“do you want to play genshin?” heeseung had asked at one point, hoping to move on from the girl that jake was so irrevocably in love with.

but much to his dismay, a lovesick smile overtook jake’s face as he sighed. “did you know y/n is an kazuha main? isn’t that so cute?”

no, heeseung couldn’t understand what about the girl made jake act in such a way. what was all the hype about? he would’ve understood if it was someone like park sieun or kim jiwon, both of whom were known amongst the physics majors for being extremely pretty, kind, and talented. but y/n l/n? the girl who failed to make it onto the school’s dance team? the girl who was never seen around campus and only had a presence in her classes? what was so special about her that had jake hooked?

as the night progressed and jake only spoke about her more, heeseung became sure of one thing.

jake had a horrible type in women.

after an extensive night of y/n, playing video games, binging ghibli films, more y/n, cooking food, and even more y/n, heeseung found himself ready to go back to his own dorm. after all, he did have a midterm at 9 am the next day and he didn’t want to be out too late.

“are you sure you don’t want me to walk you back to your dorm? you’re all the way on the other side of campus.” jake was correct, the walk was about 30 minutes and the idea of it made heeseung want to cry.

however, heeseung shook his head. “nah it’s alright, i can go by myself. i gotta go to the convenience store anyways and you should be trying to sleep early since your midterm is at 8 am.”

jake raised an eyebrow. “what do you need from the convenience store? i might have it here.”

“a red bull.” heeseung stated. “i don’t think i can survive all my classes plus my midterms tomorrow without one, and i definitley won’t wake up early enough to buy it in the morning.”

jake snorted. “oh yeah, you’re on your own then. i don’t believe in energy drinks and neither does sunghoon.”

heeseung just chuckled and waved at jake before heading out, mentally preparing for long, treacherous walk. a 30 minute walk wasn’t that bad in theory, but walking in the dark with a bunch of alpha delta kappa apple phi sigma ligma balls frat guys walking around making moaning noises wasn’t something heeseung was looking forward to. so he took a deep breath and made his way to the campus convenience store.

after about 15 minutes, heeseung notice the familiar sight of the store. he sighed in relief at being able to take a break from walking, and went inside.

he immediately beelined for the drink fridge, where he was able to find his beloved red bull.

10.99 for a red bull?? college is a scam. heeseung thought before proceeding to the counter to pay for his drink.

he was getting scammed, but at least he was self aware.

once the drink was paid for and in his hands, heeseung briskly walked out of the store to make it to his dorm before the frat guys could get to him. one of the asian frats in particular had been trying to get him to join for a while, and he declined each time. although, he almost joined at one point before he heard that the president was choi yeonjun and he had a bone to pick with that guy after he beat him in a singing contest.

when heeseung stepped out of the store, he noticed someone crouching down in the alley that he hadn’t seen when he walked in. he was about to leave, until he got closer and realized who it was.

y/n l/n.

was she trying to torment him on purpose? seeing her after jake blabbed his ear off about her all night was absolutely comedic.

but one thing rubbed heeseung the wrong way. what was she doing in the dark alleyway? suspicious thoughts filled his brain as he attempted to get closer to see if she was doing something weird.

though he fully expected to see the girl crouched over lines of cocaine, he was taken aback when he noticed that she was crying.

oh fuck, what do i do?! i don’t have the facilities for this…

it was then that he remembered he wanted to see what jake saw in her, so he mustered up whatever courage he had before walking up to her.

“you shouldn’t be in a dark alleyway like this, someone is going to think you’re doing drugs.”

y/n looked up at heeseung with tears in her eyes, but chuckled at his joke.

heeseung was surprised to feel his heart race a little at her laugh.

“sorry, can you not tell my ra? im trying not to get another offense.” y/n joked back despite the apparent sadness on her face.

although he wanted to go back to his dorm and relax, he couldn’t help that he wanted to see what jake saw in y/n. the opportunity was too good to pass up.

so he sat down next to her, to which y/n didn’t deny. as soon as he was on the ground, his stomach had growled.

fuck… he thought. despite eating at jake’s house, the walking made him hungry once more and he really didn’t want to buy more food.

much to his surprise, y/n reached into her bag and pulled out two onigiris. she held one out to heeseung. “want one?”

heeseung smiled at this. he thought the act of sharing her food was kind, especially since she barely knew him. he gratefully accepted the onigiri and the two began eating in silence for a moment.

that was, until heeseung started talking. “want to tell me why you were crying?”

y/n purses her lips before responding. “i don’t know, will you tell anyone about it?”

heeseung shook his head. “my mouth is shut, i promise.”

another laugh left y/n’s lips, which heeseung couldn’t tell whether it was a genuine laugh or just a side effect of all the tears she had released. “i’m just not have the best start to the semester. for one, i’ve been having a hard time adjusting from being so far away from my family. and i don’t really have a lot of friends here so i feel especially lonely.” she started.

during the pause, heeseung brought up a question. “i thought you had a lot of friends? i see you talking to people often.”

y/n shook her head. “i talk to a lot of people, but i don’t really consider myself friends with all of them. i only talk to them in my classes and i never go out. i literally just rot in my dorm all day.”

heeseung made a noise of acknowledgement, before signaling her to start again.

“i also got rejected from the dance team which was heartbreaking, because i had been dancing for 15 years of my life and to find out i wasn’t good enough to make the team really discouraged me. my roommate always invites guys over without my permission and isn’t willing to listen to me when i tell her i’m not comfortable with a guy literally sleeping in our shared room. like hello?? our beds are two feet away from each other. i’m not going to sleep in the same room as her fucking boy toy. plus, always yells on the phone when i’m trying to sleep.” y/n took a breath before continuing. “sorry, that one gets me really heated.”

heeseung laughed. “i get it though, i have a lot of classes with juhyun and she’s really rude.”

“right?! thank god i’m not the only person who thinks that. for some reason, everyone seems to adore her.” y/n rolled her eyes at the thought. “anyways, i guess the breaking point for me was when my uncle passed away. that was kind of what set me off because i was really close to him and i always considered him my second dad since he sort of looked after me whenever my parents were too busy with work.”

“i’m sorry for your loss.” heeseung frowned. “i know it can be hard to cope with these things especially since you’re far away from your family.”

y/n nodded at his assertion. it was as if he read her mind. “yeah, i think at this point i’ve cried enough about it that i’m just kind of in shock.”

the two sat there for a moment in silence, basking in the calming atmosphere. for some reason, heeseung didn’t find it awkward to be around y/n. he figured it was because she was such an easy person to get along with that he could find himself so calmed by being around her.

if he just ignored the heat filling up his cheeks then perhaps that was the reason.

“so, what about you?” y/n spoke up after about a minute. “is there anything on your mind?”

heeseung was surprised that she asked. he hadn’t expected her to think about him, but nonetheless he answered. “not exactly, i guess i’m just stressed about midterms but isn’t everyone?”

y/n groaned. “oh shit, i forgot… the math midterm is tomorrow.” she begrudgingly took her phone out of her pocket and pulled up a google document of her study guide. “i guess i should start reviewing, but i don’t get any of this finance shit. i mean, i’m a physics major. why do i need to know money?!”

when y/n noticed heeseung’s teasing smile, she pointed an accusing finger at him. “why are you laughing at me, are you good at finance?”

heeseung just shrugged. “i dabble.” he left out the fact that he was the secretary for the anime club. after all, it didn’t feel relevant because truthfully he didn’t have many finances to deal with. and he didn’t want y/n to know he was involved in the anime club of all things. “do you need help? i can go over your study guide with you.”

shaking her head, y/n shut off her phone. “nah, i think i’ll be fine. i’m pretty good at remembering things from class so i think i can pull stuff from my ass.”

“oh right, i forgot you’re an academic weapon.” heeseung teased. “yet somehow you’re not understanding finance.”

“it’s not my fault the universe is against me this semester!”

heeseung recalled what she had told him previously about her troubles. “touché.”

there was a moment of silence, in which heeseung opted to check the time on his phone. it was nearing midnight, and he was nowhere near his dorm.

he pondered the idea of ending the conversation there and trying to get a good nights rest before the midterm. however as he looked back up at y/n and her unreadable expression, there was something within him that told him to stay. perhaps it was the unusual rhythm of his heart that he wanted to explore a bit more, or maybe even the way his eyes always trailed towards her. whatever it was, he decided to listen to his body and stay.

"hey heeseung, what's your favorite movie?" y/n inquired out of the blue, interrupting heeseung’s inner thoughts. “i’m just wondering. i feel like people’s favorite movies say a lot about them and i want to get to know you more.”

that made his eyes widen ever so slightly. the idea that his curiousity for the other was reciprocated was heartwarming in a way.

"why the sudden question?" heeseung teased once more. seeing her roll her eyes, he quickly corrected himself. "i'm teasing, it's whisper of the heart.”

y/n abruptly gasped. "you like studio ghibli too?"

heeseung’s heart fluttered with eagerness once he heard that she enjoyed watching ghibli films, as one of his guilty pleasures was that he took comfort in those movies, seeing as they took up a considerable part of her childhood. for a guy with his reputation, it would seem unlikely. so he kept his love hidden, with his older sister being the only one aware. she had a similar relationship to the films, having introduced them to heeseung in the first place. the latter ever so faintly smiled at the memory of him and his sister at their last studio ghibli movie binge.

"yeah, i love it!"

y/n scooted close to him, glad to have started that conversation. giggles erupted from her chest, her inner child peaking through which heeseung found extremely cute. “which are your favorites?"

heeseung thought for a few seconds. "well besides whisper of the heart, ponyo and kiki's delivery service"

"dude, ponyo is fucking amazing" y/n wistfully sighed, leaning back a bit with a nostalgia filled expression. "those movies are basically my childhood"

"s-same here" heeseung spoke, stuttering out of shock.

y/n abruptly sat up, reaching down to grab her phone. heeseung could roughly make out her phone case, which had the design of the twin stars from sanrio. it made him curious of whether or not she liked sanrio, and what other things she was interested in.

"i saw this really cool fanart of san from princess mononoke. it looks really realistic— almost painfully realistic! here, i think you would like it"

and she did, her phone displayed a captivating composition she found on instagram, a rather enthralling redraw of one of the scenes in princess mononoke. it was one that heeseung had trouble keeping his eyes off of, gaping at it with a slightly open mouth and wide eyes. his expression conveyed how amazed he truly was.

"it's... wonderful" he sighed out, a dreamy essence overtaking his aura. "it almost looks like official art.”

y/n cheekily grinned, letting her phone fall on her lap. "right?? it's so good"

the two became peaceful for a bit as the conversation died down and opted to listen to the ambiance of the night. both were becoming increasingly aware of just how truly late it was, but neither really minded that fact.

something undeniable were the small glances they kept making to each other, both wanting to start up the conversation again but were just a little too flustered to do so.

although they hadn’t ever spoken before that point, heeseung found it easy to be comfortable around y/n. words seemed to just spill out around her, and he couldn’t quite control it. he figured y/n felt the same judging by how she opened up so quickly to him.

until his previous conversation had registered within him, and he nearly doubled over in repulsion. heeseung had caught himself enjoying their short yet stirring exchange, more so than he had anticipated. not that he expected much at all, because it had started from the fact that heeseung wanted to see what jake saw in y/n.

unwillingly, he found himself understanding things from jakes perspective. he would have preferred if he didn't like the conversation but rather despised it and despised her.

the fact that heeseung had a conversation with her and thoroughly enjoyed it was nothing less than worrisome, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had anything wrong with him that day.

despite that discovery, one thing still wandered on heeseung’s mind.

what exactly made y/n l/n so special?

yes, he found her easy to get along with. and he did enjoy her company. and yes, something about her made his heart flutter a bit.

but he still couldn’t pin point what made jake so infatuated.

as heeseung examined y/n to see figure it out, the girl started giggling which confused heeseung. what was she laughing about?

“sorry i don’t mean to laugh but,” y/n put her hand to her mouth to control her giggles. “you just look so cute right now with your expression.”

heeseung stopped at this. was she flirting with him? he couldn’t deny anymore that she was constantly making him flustered.

“so, you think im cute?” heeseung asked with a wide smile on his face. “you’re not too bad looking yourself, y/n.”

not too bad looking was an understatement. under the moonlight and beneath the stars, y/n seemed to be the most ethereal being heeseung had ever laid eyes on. he felt all his previous assumptions about y/n disappearing in that one moment.

at heeseung’s compliment, y/n just shyly smiled. one thought crossed his mind.

is her heart racing like mine right now?

he hoped he wasn’t alone in the feeling.

after a slight moment where y/n looked as though she were contemplating something, she spoke once again. “there is… another reason i laughed.” y/n whispered out.

before he could ask for the reason, y/n slowly leaned closer to heeseung. they were already at a close proximity by sitting next to each other, but her closing that small distance made his eyes widen and lips part.

for a second, heeseung considered kissing her. but wouldn’t that be wrong? kissing his close friend’s crush? heeseung couldn’t do that to jake, even if deep down, he wanted to.

but before he could even try to complete the kiss, he heard her whisper.

“may i?”

the thought of jake completely left heeseung’s mind in that moment as he nodded.

heeseung could only feel the beating of his heart and y/n’s warm breath on his face. he could only perceive her presence, as the world seemed to fade into nothingness. each second bridged the gap between them being strangers and them becoming involved with one another. whatever would follow, heeseung was nervous for.

but as y/n inched closer and closer to his face, he felt her soft lips make contact with the side of his own. they lightly brushed on the corners of his mouth, making a small notice that they were even there to begin with.

“you had a piece of rice on your face.”

as realization and embarrassment filled heeseung’s entire being, y/n burst out into a fit of giggles.

“oh, you’re so evil for that.” heeseung rolled his eyes. at that, y/n just shrugged.

“i’m just trying to keep you on your toes.”

as the night progressed and their late night conversation continued, heeseung hoped it would stay off the record and jake wouldn’t find out. he felt guilty for basically kissing his friend’s crush. but anothe side of him was glad that it happened, because it made him realize something.

the problem was never what was special about y/n, it was what was wrong with heeseung’s mindset. he realized that liking someone never needed any justification, that the person never had to be perfect for the person’s crush on them to make sense. it didn’t even need to make sense in the first place.

there never really seemed to be anything special about y/n, yet in jake’s eyes she was the most admirable person.

he realized that jake liked y/n because he found all aspects of her beautiful.

and perhaps heeseung was starting to as well.

authors note. i wrote this impulsively on the plane bc i got bored 👹 i think my best ideas come when i’m on planes bc this is the second time i’ve cooked smt up in a plane. also lmk if i should do a part two that’s like heeseung x y/n x jake 🤓☝️

permanent taglist. @muhwaa @hoori @yizhoutv @ja4hyvn @carayat @one16core @enhacolor @haerinz @soobin-chois @en-boyz @ohmy-fandoms @yjwonz @yunki4evr @strwberrydinosaur @duolingofanaccount @iichaeyj @eundiarys @ineedaherosavemeenow @chaerybae @bubblytaetae @w3bqrl @xiaoderrrr @jaeyunnsworld @rikizm @teddywonss @gweoriz @dimplewonie @seulrio @enhacatalog (if u requested to be on my permanent taglist and u didn’t get tagged it’s bc i cant see ur acc, but pls dm me if u want to be in it !)

#enhypen x reader #lee heeseung x reader #enhypen heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #heeseung fanfiction #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung fanfic #lee heeseung oneshot #lee heeseung x y/n #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x you #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #enhypen oneshots #enhypen imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung fanfic #heeseung #enhypen fluff

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kithtaehyung · 11 months

Text

busted (3tan) (m) | myg

title: busted pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) , jungkook x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: when things go a bit south at your house party, decisions between you and yoongi have to be made. note: well. here we are, y’all. it’s been quite a long time, but we are back to regularly scheduled programming :’)) thank you to everyone that has supported and encouraged me throughout this whole process – and series, for that matter. i couldn’t have done this without y’all and the next part is already in the works. also i cried a lot writing this lol have fun! note 2: happy birthday, hedgehog! and to colourless and nicki and whoever else had birthdays recently, consider this my gift to y’all! warnings: language, the amount of content itself fck i’m so sorry, parties, alcohol consumption, tense situations, shoving, abandonment mentions (parental), obligatory yoongi on the phone, ch*king, head/hair pulling, reader has a pain kink and it shows oops, angst, overthinking :((, penetrative s*x, chains but come on now, protective s*x, cowgirl, or*l (m/f rec), edg*ng a ha ha, thro*tf*cking, kissing :’))), kissing D:, did i say angst?, bro😵‍💫, but also bro😭, jungkook gets a warning too, yoongi’s jeans are as ripped as he is heyo, hitting from the b b back, yoongi king of consent sheesh, multiple org*sms, spitting lmfao, sl*t/wh*re mentions, yoongi jfc lol, the aftercare y’all i–😭, the ending🧍 drop date: june 9th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 18.8k gdi

Here goes nothing and everything.

It was fifteen years ago when you first met Jungkook. When the sidewalks in your neighborhood were fewer and the occupancy in your house was higher.

A tiny boy, he was immediately ready to stay by your side, despite the limited amount of time he got to hang around before his parents corralled his energy back inside their car.

Later on, he would tell you that had something to do with them not wanting him influenced by your brother and his group. But you didn’t know that at the time.

Ever since the two of you met, you became the best of friends. And as you grew older, it was only natural that feelings bloomed with everything else.

In the midst of an ever changing garden, you found something that never wavered, vibrant in color and immovable at its root.

Which was strange. You’d never compared people to flora before him.

But, because of Jungkook, you couldn’t help but see everyone as such—lilies, buttercups, the ones that trap to survive.

And he was the prettiest, strongest flower of them all.

There was rain. There were storms. But with them came hope, and a pair of cheap rings that the two of you bought nestled nicely in boxes, waiting to be unearthed when you were ready.

However.

What also came was a lesson. One that you would learn again when two of every seat remained unused in your household.

A lesson that people are more like seasons than flowers.

They change with or without you.

And they pass by.

“We can go somewhere quieter if you want,” Jungkook offers. And you know he’s going to suggest your room before he even utters the words.

But of course he adds a small, “If I’m allowed in there anymore.”

When he laughs, your smile is as slow as your head shake, a few memories of old tasting bittersweet on your tongue. “We can.”

“Okay.”

When you make your way to your room, you hear the thumps of music and rhythms of conversation—both casual and loud—echoing throughout the house. Some people are sharing laughs, others are scooting just a bit closer, and a lucky one is cackling before demanding that everyone hand over their money.

All of them oblivious to the fact that you’re about to rip off a piece of your heart.

Well. That may not be the case. But based on the conversation that you had with Jungkook before your interview, this wasn’t going to be an easy one in the slightest—not for him, nor for you.

But if he’s gonna keep pushing forward, this is a stop you need to put up regardless.

During a party isn’t what you had in mind, though. Much less one in your own house.

You don’t know if anyone sees you open your door for Jungkook to pass through, or if they notice the slump of your mood, but you figure no one will care anyways.

Until you see someone out of the corner of your peripheral.

And the skip of your heart tells you who it is.

Occupying one of the hallways a ways away, you can tell he’s very aware of you despite being in the middle of a chatty group.

But what’s on his mind? Is he worried? Is he gonna ask what this is about?

Damn it. You’re just gonna have to tell him later. You can’t exactly do anything now.

A voice peeps from behind your tense shoulders,

“You okay?”

Fuck.

Turning, you nod to the boy in your room before shutting your door, giving one more look to the man whose last text you couldn’t read.

And the way he stares makes you wanna bolt from everyone entirely.

When your door clicks shut, you slowly swivel, only the bass of your brother’s music pushing the walls in closer.

Jungkook’s doing exactly what you knew he’d do, wandering around your room and either leaning in to observe, or lightly touching things that he remembers.

The soft puff of a laugh snaps you into focus. “I can’t believe you still have all his medals up.”

Ah. He even remembers the way you have all your brother’s trophies and achievements displayed—all because you liked seeing them shine, and he didn’t want them in his room.

Sweeping your gaze along two of your walls, you let out a tiny sound of amusement while agreeing, “I can. Too lazy to take them down.”

“I can do it,” he immediately responds. “If you need me to.”

If it had been five years ago, you would’ve been enamored that he even offered.

But five years ago is when he shattered any hopes you had for the two of you, so you turn him down yet again. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“We’re here to talk, not decorate, Jungkook.”

He stares before nodding in dejection, eyes finding something other than you. “It’s still weird to hear you say my name.”

It’s weird to say it.

But you can’t let him know you agree, so the sound you make is half-cautious and weakly lighthearted. “You think so?”

“Ah, yeah.” He flashes a smile that still squeezes air from your lungs. “I’d gotten too used to all the names you had for me.”

“Oh, god.”

“But I guess someone else gets to hear them now.”

Goddamn it. He’s not gonna give up, just like he said right before your interview.

“Who are you seeing?”

“Kook…”

“I wanna know.”

“Why?”

He walks over to your nightstand, picking up a picture of you and your friends from years back.

And your heart pangs at how big his back has become.

Without turning, Jungkook lifts his head to stare at your ceiling. And if he’s wondering whether the glow stars he stuck all over it are still there or not, you don’t know if you’d admit that you never took them down.

“So that I’d know if I still have a chance.”

“You already had yours,” you whisper. “Remember?”

And when you look up, he’s already staring at you with regret.

Memories start to come back, but you shove them away with force, trying to empty your sinking boat with a teaspoon.

Every time he had walked back from school with you, every time he would make you laugh when you felt alone, every time he stayed at your place when your brother had to be out—all of them competed with each other to punch you in the gut and push you to your knees.

“I do,” is all he says before softly placing the frame on your bed. “I fucked that up, didn’t I.”

The times he said he’d be there when you needed him, the times he said it was gonna be okay when you struggled with your seemingly deepest darkest secrets.

All the times you knew you’d have a long future with him.

“You did.”

Everything leading up to the time he said you should break up before you left for university.

Right before you were going to tell him you loved him.

Your heart hasn’t beat in awhile, but you don’t notice until Jungkook starts walking towards your planted feet. Was he really so far away? How did he cover the distance between so fast?

With a sigh occupying your chest, you muse that he looks so different, but also not different at all.

And just like the time you saw him downtown, your brain doesn’t know how to separate the Jungkook you knew from the one you see in front of you.

Because they are still the same.

You don’t budge as he stands resolute, inches away but encasing you in his familiar presence. When his hand comes up to your face, he almost touches—but the slight hesitation has you holding your breath before he surrenders his hand at his side.

“I was an idiot,” he admits, throat seemingly small and making yours the same size. “I never should’ve… I can’t believe I…”

You watch as he flips his head up, and you hate how you know exactly what he’s trying to hide.

But your soul still remembers the wound it was dealt. So while you don’t want him feeling this way, you’re perfectly okay to fight back.

He doesn’t get to cry when he’s the reason for all those tears.

“And yet you did,” you remind him, proud of how stable your voice leaves lips that used to seek his. “And you left me so fucking confused.”

“I know.”

“Do you really?”

He flickers regretful eyes your way, giving you all the room to talk.

And you’re going to.

“Do you actually know, Kook? How fucked up that made me feel right before going where I knew nobody. No one.”

His nostrils flare while eyebrows flinch.

You expel a tough breath, everything that happened before bubbling up to the surface. The nights you spent wondering what happened, the days you spent feeling unwanted, the times you felt so fucking alone.

“Is it true that you even loved me?”

“Yes,” he finally shatters, face contorting and eyes welling at their rims. “Of course I did.”

Did.

“I still do.”

Liar.

“I thought I was the only one.” You search his eyes, hating how you would comfort him in an instant if this were any other circumstance. Hating, hating, loathing that this is how you find out your love wasn’t unrequited. “Why did you push me away?”

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” He turns, unable to handle the loud silence streaming from your bones. Voice shaken, he flounders, “I don’t know. I’ve—”

When he pauses, it’s to keep his lips from shaking. You just know it.

“I’ve regretted it every day since.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have!”

“Really. So all those texts you never sent were full of regret, too, huh?”

“No, I—”

“All those calls you never made.”

“I wanted to call!”

“You wanted nothing to do with me!”

“No! That’s not true—”

“Liar!”

He digs palms into the soaking divots of his face, tense at all angles and making you so, so angry that this is what the both of you have come to.

“I’m not lying!”

“You are!”

You thought it would feel better seeing him cry.

But it’s not, it’s not, it’s not. You hate this.

Because Jungkook made sure your tears were short-lived. Made sure to chase them away every single time—

There’s a rapid twist of your locked doorknob before you hear a shout,

“What the hell’s going on in there!”

Shit, your brother. Were you both yelling?

…Were you both that loud?

“We’re fine!” you shout back, embarrassed that your fight somehow managed to outperform the aux. “It’s okay.”

“Open the door.”

“No.”

“You better be serious—”

“Promise!” You look toward the shouts. “We’re okay.”

“…Okay.”

And then it’s completely silent.

But you know he hasn’t left.

Fuck, he can’t hear the rest of this. He shouldn’t have heard any of it in the first place, and you can feel the heat of his questions coming later tonight.

Which, you are fine answering when it’s just the two of you. But you cannot have anyone hovering right now so you go to open the door and tell him off,

“Dude, I said I’m—”

Oh, fuck.

Yoongi’s right there with him.

And your heart fucking lurches.

Fuck fuck fuck they both see your tears and you’re getting moved aside before you know it now there’s—

“The fuck are you doing making them cry?”

“Wait, it’s not like th—”

“You come into our house after years—”

“Stop!”

“And pull some shit like this?”

Alarmed, you squeeze yourself between him and a very wide-eyed Jungkook, having to wrestle an angry wrist off a captured bicep. “Seriously, relax!”

You and your brother have a thousand differences.

But one thing you two have in common?

He’s just as stubborn as you are.

A strong swipe moves you back so fast that your feet can’t keep up, and you find yourself stumbling until firm hands and familiar cologne keep you upright, voices springing up all at once.

“I’m not—”

“Hey—!”

“The fuck—”

“What’s wrong with you?” you question, commanding attention and snagging both your brother’s and Jungkook’s stares.

Barely even caring if they see where you are and who’s holding you.

Because this is all stupid. It’s not fucking high school and you aren’t some kid that needs their useless, shitty, good-for-nothing parents to stand up for them.

Resisting Yoongi’s grip until he lets go, you stalk up to rip your brother’s hand off your ex’s arm, voice darkened and sharp, “Get out.”

Breath hard, the reply you get is directed more at Jungkook than your own pinched brows,

“Why should I.”

“Cus it’s fine,” you shoot out, sparing a glance at Yoongi and regretting it immediately.

Because he’s not looking at you. He probably wasn’t ever looking at you.

No. Based on that look alone, he’s been eyeing Jungkook with an energy that sends chills straight through your veins.

It’s so unmoving, so infernal that your throat dries, forcing you to swallow before laying more reassurance on three pairs of tense shoulders. “It’s alright, okay? We’re just talking.”

“…So it’s like that?”

Jungkook immediately replies to your sibling with a monotone, “Of course it is.”

To which he moves forward again before you stop him with a hand and a shout,

“The fuck it isn’t—”

“It is! Fucking hell, dude...”

You force an exhale, hating how your room is overflowing while you’re still drowning in the conversation prior.

Because now one talk is gonna sprout into three, and you already dread what each one is going to look like when it develops.

You hope Jungkook understands that you’re done.

You hope your brother understands that you’re tired.

And, above all the others, you hope to any high power out there that Yoongi understands that you are anything but finished.

When the tension doesn’t budge, you sigh and shift your weight.

“Look. We’re just talking. But I need to speak to him alone.” You breathe with finality, eyeing your sibling and his ride or die—hating and loving how ready they are to do whatever they need to, together.

But they don’t have to do anything.

Except let you do this yourself.

“Please.”

After a moment, they both look over your shoulder before your brother watches your face again.

But Yoongi seems to have finally caught Jungkook’s attention, because his eyes haven’t broken their lock until you say something,

“Trust me.”

Two weighty seconds pass before both men nod. And they leave without a word, emotions toppling on each other as soon as your door shuts.

When you walk up to lock it shut, you stare at the knob in silence.

While that was massively uncalled for, it could’ve gone much worse. You can already think of over a hundred outcomes, because that’s a look you’ve seen on your brother many times.

However. That’s not what has you lost in thought.

What keeps you frozen is the fact that you have never seen Yoongi like that.

It almost scared you, but somehow comforts you all the same. You can still feel the way he subtly squeezed you in assurance, pressing you into him when you really didn’t fall that far. There’s a jittering in your chest that hasn’t simmered, and it makes you feel like you’re halfway floating back to where Jungkook stands.

But you’re promptly grounded when you rejoin him, voice soft when you ask if he’s okay.

“He hasn’t changed,” is all he whispers.

And you look at the door with a sigh of disappointment. “He has a little. Still uptight as ever, but. At least I can leave the house.”

“Yoongi was a surprise.”

Oxygen abandons your lungs before you quickly catch yourself. “They’re best friends.”

Jungkook glares at the floor in thought before exhaling, and his silence seems charged. Almost off.

“Right.”

…Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Is it because he saw when Yoongi caught you? Or the fact that he showed up at all?

“Hey,” you whisper, hoping to rope him away from whatever scary things he could be pondering. When he flicks his attention to you, it takes a lot to not flinch at his watery eyes. “Ignore them. We aren’t finished here.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and your conversation jumps right back to where it was. “For everything.”

“I know.” You close your eyes before sadness lowers your gaze. “But it’s gonna hurt for awhile.”

Even if you get this closure, it can’t cover all the years he made you doubt yourself. Made you feel like everything you went through was a lie and that love was something you just didn’t deserve. Confidence vaporized as a result, leaving nothing but issues and manufactured intimacy for years.

Maybe that’s why everyone said you were a bad lay before. Because you actually were.

Through your thick haze, you hear a faint, broken,

“You loved me?”

“I…” Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. “I still do.”

“What?”

Fuck.

It’s true. While he broke your heart first, he still cared for it more than anyone else after him had—until recently. The only grief he gave you was the breakup, which was why it threw you for an absolute loop.

As you grew up, though, you started to rationalize that the split was a good decision. He was moving, and you were leaving for college. How would you both have fared with the long distance? It probably would have ended one way or the other anyways.

So while the resentment burned your heart, it didn’t quite rid you of affection. What you feel as a result is similar to before, but so very, very different. Subdued. Faded. Like jeans you wore constantly but haven’t touched in years.

In all honesty, what broke you the hardest was losing a dear friend.

“I do,” you finally admit, not looking at him because of your next words, “But not the way you want me to.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond, letting the outside world bleed into the room like a bitter interlude.

When he still makes no sound, you lift weary eyes to check on him.

And your chest constricts at the way he looks utterly and totally lost.

When you call his name, his gaze doesn’t leave the floor. When you whisper it again, the tear that falls makes you weak. “Kook, what’s wrong?”

He finally looks up, and you feel your eyes quickly reflect his. “I was so stupid,” he sniffles, wiping his nose. “I really didn’t know. Honestly, I knew that was impossible.”

For some reason, this makes you chuckle, and a new mood starts to paint the walls. “Why?”

“Because you were so cool.” His smile hasn’t changed. And that’s what cuts the deepest. “And I was just there because I always was.”

“What?” You start to join him in bittersweet recollection, albeit from a different perspective. When you reach forward to point at his necklace—because you will not touch the ring—you softly laugh. “Then what were these for, silly?”

When he sighs, you can feel the cracks in his curve. “I’ve been told that I’m clueless.”

“You are,” you say with a sagging grin. “Extremely.”

He laughs again. So do you.

And the both of you break all at once.

He’s crushing you in a hug and you’re crying into his clothes, hands gripping at his jacket and shoulder feeling the weight of his world.

While he repeats that he’s sorry, you choke out that you are, too. When he says it was never your fault, you cry even harder.

You fucking hate this. Now that you know the truth, it hurts that much worse. You hate, hate, hate that this is what everything came to. Everything that you both went through, destroyed by one mistake at the bitter end.

But you need to move on. You need to sacrifice the past for the future.

“I still love you,” he whispers, and you tense when he tightens his arms. “And I’m still sorry.”

“You idiot,” you cry into his chest, and you hear him hold back a sob before burying his head again.

And the two of you stay like that. One last embrace that you both needed.

Reminiscing over everything that doesn’t matter anymore.

When you both calm, you feel like it’s been hours.

But you move to step away first, confused at the way he doesn’t let you leave.

What’s he doing? Why is his mouth hovering over yours? You need to move. You need to move away.

But all you can do is plead, “I can’t.”

Still, Jungkook moves in.

Leaning to kiss just next to your lips instead.

What once would have lit your soul on fire now feels like a tempered flame, the smallest light of a candle before it burns out. And you’re grateful that he respects you enough to not push in a time of weakness.

You move away again, and he lets you go this time. But not without last words, “Promise me this person is alright.”

“I promise.”

“Only alright? I have a chance then.”

“Kook.” When you give him an empty glare, dying stars still linger in his eyes. “Friends?”

His lips give away his breaking heart before he nods. “I’m not leaving you again.”

Swallowing, you spread a thankful smile. “You better not,” you sniffle. “I need to decorate.”

He huffs, giving you one more teary stare. “If they ever hurt you, let me know.”

“I’ll be okay.”

After a noncommittal nod, he stands until you politely tell him you need a minute. When he leaves, you wait until the door shuts before wiping nothing from your cheek.

Wondering why this closure doesn’t make you feel better in the slightest.

You don’t know how long it’s been. Time doesn’t exactly flow when you’re caught between the past and the present.

But when you open your door, Dom is watching you with pure, unadulterated focus.

And your face scrunches in pain before she ushers you back inside.

She doesn’t say anything as you sit on your bed, offering her shoulder even though she doesn’t prefer physical contact.

While you’re grateful—so, so thankful for her presence—intermittent sniffles are the only sound you’re capable of.

Until you stabilize and come up for air, fishing words from your river of grief, “Remember what I told you. When he broke up with me.”

Anger simmers in her reply as her shoulder moves under your chin. You assume by the movements that she’s typing something on her phone—or prepping for revenge, either one of the two. “I do.”

“He said he still loves me.”

Your first thought is proven correct as a device plops onto your comforter. “Bullshit.”

“Dom…”

“What? Like he loved you then, too?” She scoffs. “You were the one that loved him and he cut you out. He needs to get over that.”

“He said it was a mistake.”

“It sure as fuck was.”

“I dunno. Something just doesn’t sit right.” You swipe at your nose. “He looked so.. I just…”

“Uh uh. It’s too fresh.” She gently lifts your heavy cloud off her person, firm fingers squeezing out rain. “You gotta get out of your own damn head right now.”

“I know.”

“Now.”

You break into another sob, hiccuping before nodding. “It just sucks, Dom. I d—”

“Look, I get that. But everything you’re thinking about already happened. It’s done.” A glance is thrown behind her back before she swivels around. “Focus on what you have now.”

In your moments of weakness, you ask the dumbest things,

“What do I have now.”

As always, Dominique is quick and to the point. “A man that’s waiting outside your door.”

Huh?

Your eyes flash up to hers as she stands. “Wait, what?”

What did she say? What does she mean? How does she know that what’s going on—

“One minute,” she warns, far away and not to you. “Then you’re on your own.”

“K.”

Wait, what.

You don’t even realize you’re vacating your bed as you see him walk in, nodding back at Dom closing the door before regarding your wreck of a face.

His name is molasses on your tongue.

What is he doing? Isn’t the party still on? Why is he walking closer?

He’s not supposed to be in here he can’t be here and you’re telling him that but he pulls you in so tight that the rest of your tears rain down in sheets.

“Fuck,” is all you can manage now, and he crushes you in even harder, as if he wants you pressed against all of him forever like a keepsake leaf on a journal page.

Your voice writes words into his clothes, silence his only reply but the only one you need.

Even if you only get a minute, this is enough. It’s enough, not enough, enough.

When he holds you at arm’s length, his question comes out a bit fast-paced, “What happened?”

Damn it. As much as you should probably tell him, you use precious seconds to pause, not really knowing if you want to or not.

“Don’t sweat it,” he quickly understands, kissing your forehead just as chaste. When he moves again, you catch the tension in his shoulders, notice the ruffles in his hair. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes. No.” Fuck, he kinda looks as rattled as you feel. What is happening right now? “I just, umm. I need a minute.”

“You don’t have to go back out there, you know.”

“But you do,” you counter. “And I just wanna see you.”

Finally, Yoongi stops, and his whole upper body relaxes at once. A beautiful sound to your ears, amusement huffs out his nose before he mutters, “You can’t keep saying shit like that.”

“But it’s true.”

His chuckle is light, and mischievous eyes find the ground before they lift to yours,

“Makes me wanna take you home.”

Well. You swiftly realize why he doesn’t want you to keep saying certain things. The zing of emotion through your body was definitely uncalled for.

Any other day, you would want this type of conversation to keep going. And maybe you’d be a little coy about it.

But right now, all you are is tired, and your barriers are crumbled enough for a truth to escape.

Resigned, you step closer to wrap his waist in your arms, not caring if he can feel the rapid beats of your heart. “I want you to do that,” you admit, breath warming your face on his already warmer shirt. “All the time.”

“Take you home?”

“Mmhmm.”

Yoongi runs fingers along your arm. “You know I’d do it if I could, doll.”

If you were someone else. If you didn’t have to hide.

If you didn’t have to wait.

At least you don’t have to wait for much longer. Definitely can’t say anything to your brother tonight, but you and Yoongi agreed on after this party. So things will be better from here on out.

But why does he seem so—

You’re spooked by a warning knock on your door, and you flicker eyes to see his filled with something you don’t like.

And the air suddenly shifts to something alarming.

“Listen.”

“Hmm?”

“I know we said we’d say something.”

Oh. You shake your head, already on the same page and liking how in sync you are. “There’s no way. At least, not tonight. Jungkook—”

“It may need to be a bit longer than that.”

Huh.

What does he mean by—

“So you probably won’t see me for awhile.”

You freeze.

So does time.

A minute is no longer enough.

“Yoongi, please—”

“Can you do that?”

Your heart slams against your ribcage, banging and banging and screaming that what he’s asking is not possible.

Because he isn’t asking what you want to do. He isn’t even asking how long you can wait.

There’s a reason why he’s risking all sorts of shit to say this in person. Why he seems so restless.

And you’re already missing him so hard it hurts.

Truthfully? You can’t do this. Not now. Not when your heart is bleeding out on your own bedroom floor. There isn’t even enough time to process Jungkook’s talk and now you need to deal with this?

“Babe?”

But despite what you feel, even if your throat is seizing and your chest is caving in, your answer will be what he needs.

Because seeing Yoongi look like this—torn and frayed at the edges—renders you powerless and protective all at once. For fuck’s sake, he looks slightly panicked and this is the second new side of him you’ve seen tonight.

And yet he found a way to be with you one last time.

Sacrificing seconds just to say goodbye.

So you give up something, too. Your wants and needs because you don’t think you can do this, but it seems way too important to him to not try.

You get it. That whole confrontation probably snapped all sense back into him. He doesn’t want to hurt his best friend. Or disrupt his work environment. Or both. Whatever whatever whatever. You should’ve seen this coming.

If distance is what he wants, you’ll give it. Instant karma because you just told someone else to give you some, too.

Of course you lose someone as soon as you gain back another.

“Doll, let me know because—”

“Anything,�� you rush out, and yearning taints your voice on the descent. “I’ll do it.”

He pans from one eye to the other, and you weakly reveal a crack in your resolve,

“Anything for you.”

That answer was a lot more than what you meant to say. And the next look he gives rips you into shreds. Shreds of the bigger truth you just told him with moments left of his time.

“For us,” he corrects, swooping in to give you one more soul-shattering kiss.

And with that, he pulls away, turning to retreat into the real world that proves absurdly cruel.

You don’t know when you’ll get to be alone with him again. It could be a day. Or months. Or even longer.

But watching him go, you know you can get through this. You know you can do it.

Because this is nothing new. Just another person leaving. You’ve gone through it before and you’ll go through it again and this time will be different, right? Right? He’ll come back. Of course he will.

And yet there’s still a part of you that questions.

If people are like seasons…

Which one will Yoongi be?

Fuck.

Your body is moving before the rest of you does, and you propel forward to tug him in, flooding his lips with saltwater and longing and a deluge of reluctant trust.

And he responds in an instant, swallowing you in an embrace you’ll cherish forever and willingly giving in to your desperate tugs on his jacket.

“Yoongi, I—”

You hear another insistent knock before he slings you into the nearest wall, and he grips the back of your head so hard you sob into his mouth.

“I know.”

His name rattles around your mouth.

“It’ll be okay.”

You wanna believe him.

“Okay?”

But you only nod, eyes filled with oceans but gaze unwavering. Because you need to see him. Because you need to see him.

“Fuck.”

He smashes his lips on yours once more, capturing every soft plea for him to stay and holding you so tightly that your heart splinters. And while you know this is his way of telling you everything will be okay, you have a sinking suspicion that he is fighting to believe it himself.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair.

If he was anyone else, if you were anyone else, if your brother wasn’t the way he was, if Jungkook wasn’t in the position he’s in now.

It was just nights ago that you cradled all his moonlight in your palms.

And now you’ll be farther apart than stars.

Yoongi finally pulls away right as Dom opens the door, and a myriad of emotions slosh into your brain when his eyes never leave you.

“I got us,” he vows, finger on your chin the sole thing keeping you afloat, and you suspend in disbelief that someone you know is witnessing his lips press your forehead in real time and no explosions or helicopters are crashing onto the scene.

Just a panicked “Hurry up, for god’s sake!” to indicate your friend is not amused or phased.

Yoongi finally steps away, slowly backing up before slipping out, and the door closes with only you inside—hand clawing deep into your chest.

Because you know him well enough.

He was committing your every feature to memory.

And the desperation in his reddened eyes hunches you forward in pain.

The rest of the party goes on. Music booms, people laugh, conversations sparkle.

And you hear them all through your door.

Unmoved from the spot everyone left you in.

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: Hey

Idiot🙄 [1:34am]: You up or nah?

You [1:40am]: yeah

Idiot🙄 [1:40am]: Help me clean up

You scoff at your phone, letting it fall from your hand before resting tired eyes between your knees.

When it buzzes again, you reluctantly read it with vision unreflecting.

Idiot🙄 [1:42am]: Left food for you, too

That you will leave your room for. You may have just cried out your weight in tears alone.

You🙄 [1:46am]: ok

Idiot🙄 [1:46am]: 👍

Cleaning is a quiet event, with you both doing the chores you’ve defaulted to over the years. While he clears the floors and deals with the trash, you steadily get through the dishes, scrubbing them as well as you can before placing them in the washer to dry.

A plate. A bowl after that.

Two whisky glasses even though there were plenty of solo cups to use.

You needed this. Needed a way of going through the motions and letting your brain fly on autopilot. If you sniffle, the water drowns it out, and only the dishes get to see any lingering tears.

And unluckily for you, there are plenty of both.

“Hey.”

You hum.

“Do I need to beat his ass?”

Well, that didn’t take long.

Frustration tears its way up your throat on all fours, “I should kick yours for what you did back there.”

“And I’d deserve it.”

You pause.

“But I still wanna know.”

Sighing, you shake your head, knowing that neither of you are angry enough to fight anyways. “No, okay? I was serious. We talked.”

“I know you talked but he still hurt you.”

Your lip stings under your teeth.

“And I can’t just let that go.”

When he stops, you place another dish on its rack. “Let’s just finish and I’ll tell you everything in a sec.”

He sets down the last of his trash before retiring in the living room, the thump of weary weight squeezing a sigh out of the couch.

And you eventually join him, water cutting off with a squeak before you shuck off your gloves.

As you walk through the cleaned-enough rooms, you keep hearing afterimages of conversations, wondering how many revolved around your shouting match with Jungkook, or how many speculated who Yoongi is or isn’t seeing.

All these pretend scenarios mock you from all sides.

But the conversation you’re about to have with your brother is gonna be real. And a long time coming, quite frankly.

You take a breath before crossing into a space that’s seen and heard many things. While you take residence in your regular spot on the sofa, your brother doesn’t deter his gaze from a television that’s not on.

But as soon as you blurt out your confession, he slowly closes his eyes.

“He broke up with me. Before I left for school.”

“...Why didn’t you tell me.”

Brows scrunched, you waste no time in pinning him with your response, “Did you see yourself back there? Imagine if you found out back then.”

Silence.

“Besides,” you continue, deflating back into the cushions, “He was moving, remember? And you had enough going on. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I always worry.”

“It’s whatever at this point. I didn’t even know he was back until Yoo—you told me.”

Shit, that was close.

“I shouldn’t have made it a surprise.”

“Not your fault. What’s done is done.” When you observe the blank screen, you can see your brother aim a look your way. “Just made the whole uni thing miserable at first.”

And the years after, too, but he doesn’t need the same details that Yoongi got.

He sighs, hand scratching the side of his head before free-falling. When it’s quiet, you think he’s preparing for war. Prepping a vow to go after Jungkook and dealing with a problem that’s not yours anymore.

But he doesn’t do that. What he says catches you completely off guard.

An apology.

“I’m sorry I’m always gone. Or not really here when I’m back.”

Where did that come from? Are you already done with a talk you dreaded for years?

This can’t be it.

Blinking, your mouth slowly opens before you respond as level as possible. “It’s okay. I can pretty much fend for myself at this point.”

“I know. But I’ll try to be better.”

He’s gonna what? “Why?”

“Cus I feel… Uhh.” He moves his lips around in thought, as if the next sentence takes strategy to arrange. “I feel like we don’t really talk anymore.”

“…Oh.”

You’re thoroughly thrown. Because who the hell is this person you’re talking to right now? What’s up with him? He doesn’t need to try anything better except calm the fuck down sometimes. And let you be an adult.

And frankly, you feel like you talk a normal amount anyway. At least, you didn’t think anything was off about it.

What the hell happened after he left your room?

Suddenly, you see him laugh at the ground before asking it a question. “Remember when we’d go get our own food?”

Alright, he’s definitely drunk or a clone.

But you’ll take it. This switch in what you expected this conversation to be is a welcome one, and you softly entertain memories that aren’t supposed to be this funny. “Yeah. We’d get told to come back with our parents.”

“Until they realized we kept going alone.”

A memory makes you smirk. “You even tried dressing like a grown up.”

He chuckles again, elbows resting on his knees as he watches your coffee table. “I really thought I did it, too.”

“You did.” Thinking about all the shit you both went through, it’s truly a wonder how you’re both still here. Living and existing and doing big things.

A rueful chuckle leaves your lips, floating to the floor. “We’re fucked up, huh.”

“Very,” he agrees. “But who isn’t.”

True. “It could be worse, I think.”

“How?”

You play with some of the frays on your sofa, wondering when this piece of furniture started to resemble thin lines of too-soft polyester at its edges.

Did it start to give up around the same time your parents did? Or had their patience worn thin way before the threads on this cushion began to fade?

Whichever truth remains, at least it’s still here—witnessing all the struggles and triumphs, the highs and lows, and all the times the two of you had sat in puffy-eyed silence.

Together.

“They could’ve left us somewhere else.”

“Ah,” he nods, slowly shaking his head and twisting the watch on his wrist. “Nah.”

Silent, your eyes find his side profile in due time. “No?”

And his glare burns the path ahead. Just like it always has. “I wouldn’t have let them.”

“Oh, really.”

“I got them to leave us all this, didn’t I?”

Wait, he did what now?

…You didn’t know that.

“Hold on,” you breathe slow. “That’s what happened?”

“We had a deal.” He sighs before leaning all the way back, hands joined at the knuckles on his stomach. “If I graduated with full marks and, uhh. Got a starting salary high enough, they’d pay for your tuition.”

The pause he makes weighs a ton.

“And leave this to us when you came back.”

So… He…

Holy shit.

You were just fucking relieved you didn’t have to pay any loans. For once, you thought your parents really had your best interests in mind and did something out of kindness before peacing the fuck out.

But it’s all because your brother negotiated and pulled off the near impossible?

…Is he paying loans?

“I didn’t know any of that,” you whisper, finding yourself on the verge of tears again.

He simply shrugs, looking down at his cherished piece that he rarely takes off. “You didn’t need to. You were just a kid.”

“So were you.”

Your brother purses his lips, and you wonder what words he could be holding back. What thoughts he has that he won’t say out loud. If any of them are things he wants to say but can’t.

“It’s whatever.”

He had to grow up fast so that you didn’t have to.

And you don’t have the heart to tell him that university fast tracked that anyways.

So, while grateful as hell and knowing you’ll be thinking about this conversation for years, you switch the subject. You’re already overwhelmed as is.

And you suddenly understand what Yoongi might be struggling with, too.

Because if he did all this for you, what lengths has he gone for his best friend?

Shoving that thought into a far corner of your brain, you rest your head to mirror your sibling, letting your tears slide back to where they came from. “I, umm. Was wondering why they left us the house. But I figured they just didn’t wanna pay for it.”

“It was already paid off,” he explains, seemingly just as happy to talk about something else. “Don’t ask me how I know this, but it’s how I was able to negotiate in the first place. They had four other properties, and a condo on some island.”

“What.”

“That’s why they were rarely here. Work trips, my ass.” He scoffs before bouncing a leg. “And they had us in this place.”

“I like it here, though.”

“I do, too, but…” You hear a shuffle of his feet before he stops. “I just. I dunno, it’s just us here. It feels...”

“Empty?”

“Maybe. More like something’s missing? I dunno, that’s probably lame.”

You inhale before assuring him. “It’s not.”

And with that, you’re both left to stare at the same ceiling, conversation stewing and simmering around the whole room.

Usually, this is when you leave. Because you don’t wanna talk about shit like this, or you simply feel like doing anything else.

But tonight, you want to stay. You didn’t know these things about your brother and what he did, and it’s making you realize a lot of things.

And regret others.

A question rolls off your tongue before you can overthink it, “Do you ever wonder what we did wrong?”

“All the time.”

“When I think about it, I always end up thinking the same thing.”

“Hmm.”

You tilt your head his way. “We weren’t the adults. But neither were they.”

And you both huff in tandem after he grins. “Damn.”

You don’t know how the two of you got here. But it was much better than talking about anything else, and you silently thank him for not making you more miserable than you already were.

Truthfully, you feel a little better instead.

He just needs to know for sure that you really are past the whole situation. Mostly. A healthy amount, at least.

So you tell him. “I mean it, thou—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?” You look over to see regret fill his side of the couch.

“For what I did. I was outta line.”

“Oh.” You swallow, surprisingly emotional that he’s even owning up to it. You know it only happened because he was being protective, but hearing this from him is huge. That had to be hard. “Thank you.”

“I just.. I love you, okay?” He turns to look at the ceiling again, and you quickly have to do the same because you know how that was even tougher to say. “You and my brothers.. You’re all I’ve got.”

Liquid emotion runs down your cheek, never having been told that more than once in a single day.

It’s a shame how foreign it sounds when you say it back.

But that doesn’t make it any less true.

“Love you, too.”

An hour later, you find yourself in bed, clutching your phone while a single question loops through your brain.

…Calling should be okay, right?

Even if you can’t see him, or really be in the same room, this should be okay. At least, in the dead of night when even birds are asleep. When no one is awake to judge you both for lying to the people you...

Your chest squeezes when you press down on your decision, the talk with your brother repeating in your ears.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It’s ringing.

Still ringing.

…And you feel your chest cave when you hear it go to voicemail.

Fuck.

Maybe he’s sleeping already. Unforeseen circumstances like emotional turmoil tend to slow down your getting ready for bed process, so it took a lot longer than usual. Maybe he isn’t actively avoiding your calls and is just face down in a pillow you miss using.

And maybe you need to get used to this god-awful feeling as quickly as you can.

This hollow, aching, painful feeli—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Your chest booms when you see his name, and you try your absolute hardest to answer normally even though instant tears blur the screen.

“H—”

“Sorry, I was showering, fuck.”

His breath sounds so rushed, and you immediately wonder what he looks like if he didn’t take that long to answer. Imagining him in only a towel or less, you let out a pained chuckle before whispering, “You okay?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?”

Of course that’s his answer. “I’m not. Just wondering if you were.”

“Why would I be if you aren’t? Ow.”

Body alert, you only focus on that last syllable. “Wait, are you hurt?”

You hear a low grunt before he responds.

“Just hit my fucking knee getting out.”

Ouch. How the hell did he do that? “I’m sorry. You got ice, though, right?”

“It’s not that bad. Just stings.”

“Okay.”

There’s some crunching sounds before you hear footsteps and hisses, and a thump before other noise crackles through.

“Spoke to Kook.”

Shit.

“And the guys.”

Oh. About work. “What’s up?”

“We’re gonna be busy as shit for the next month or two, so.. Guess that came at a good time.”

Ah. No finish line in sight.

But he didn’t hide that information from you, so you appreciate the honesty. Better than him leaving you in complete darkness.

“Yeah, do your thing,” you support. “I need to prep for this interview anyway. And figure shit out if I end up getting the job.”

“When you get it.”

You exhale, shy. “When I get it, yeah.”

“Where is it again? That blue building, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. But where I’ll be is like, third floor.”

“See? Claiming shit already.”

You realize right as he says it, but you meant something completely different. Your laugh is soft. “I meant for the interview.”

“Mm. Well lemme know where you post up after they hire you.”

“Yoongi.”

“Fine.”

“Did you, umm. Did you and Kook talk about anything else?”

“Just work stuff.”

“Okay.” Your eyes lower. If he’s telling you everything, you gotta reciprocate.

Even the stuff you don’t wanna mention. “He tried to kiss me.”

“What.”

Swallowing at his tone, you whisper, “I told him I couldn’t.”

“…I see.”

Fuck. He does not sound okay with that in the slightest. Disappointed with yourself, you apologize, “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? Don’t be.”

“You sound mad.”

There’s another moment of silence, and you don’t think you breathe until he responds,

“Not at you, doll.”

Well, shit. You don’t wanna cause any friction between them, especially after the energy Jungkook gave off earlier. It’s still bugging you to hell. “Nothing happened, baby. But he felt really off after y’all left, so.. I dunno. Be careful.”

“I will. But that means I can’t talk when he’s around.”

You bury your head, watching the hours that you get with Yoongi dwindle away. Knowing Jungkook, he’s gonna immerse himself in whatever keeps him distracted. So he will most likely be at the studio just as much. “At least you were there today,” you whisper.

“Mm.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect that.”

There’s a breath on the line, and you can tell he’s hesitant just by the way he moves his phone. So when he finally speaks, your jaw goes slack.

“I was there first, doll.”

He what?

“Wait… You were?”

He was at your door first? He has to know how that looked, right? Your brother clearly saw him if he was the one to shout, and yet there was no mention of it when the two of you spoke.

Maybe that’s part of why Yoongi decided what he did. A decision to help you came with consequences he knew were coming. But he did it anyway.

Your breath is suddenly short. And your head is starting to spin with information overload.

“The plan was to only check for a sec, but he had the same idea. Showed up right behind me.”

“So… You both heard—”

“Nothing until the yelling.”

They were there the whole time. Both of them. Yoongi first? Your brother joining him?

Nope. This is too much. All of this is way too much for one night and your head is bursting at the seams.

Just another reason why this separation could be a good thing. Other than the fact that Jungkook seems weird and you can’t see Yoongi at all and him and your brother really are more than friends and you wedged yourself right in between everybody—

Information. Realizations. Guilt. You’re spiraling.

Run.

“I’m, umm. I’m gonna get off now.”

“You okay?”

Say yes. Say anything but “No. I’m… I don’t know, I really don’t know—This is a lot and—”

“Wait—”

“I get it and I’ll stay away for as long as you want—”

“Babe, talk to—”

“Bye, Yoongi.”

And you immediately hang up before your dam floods.

He doesn’t need to hear your grief over the past, your regrets of the present, your fear of the future. He doesn’t need to know how pained you really feel dealing with everything at once. How harsh his departure is because this is when you need him most.

Yoongi: Missed Call

All he needs to know is that you’ll do this for him. Because he would do the same for you.

And he’s done enough for everyone other than himself.

But goddamn if this doesn’t hurt like nothing else you’ve experienced before.

And you’ve been through hell.

Yoongi: Missed Call (2)

Why is he calling? Won’t this just make it harder?

Why does he keep trying if you need to stay away?

Yoongi: Incoming Call

With a heart so busted you don’t know where all the pieces are, you finally reach up to acknowledge his effort.

And his greeting sends a pang through your chest.

“Knew you’d answer on the first try.”

Sniffling, you say his name so, so softly.

“You didn’t let me say bye.”

When you don’t respond, he trudges on.

“So now, you get to hear the longest good night ever.”

Huh?

“And no hanging up this time.”

What the heck does he… mean…

As soon as you hear the light strums of a guitar, your heart shows signs of life. And you let everything out while he gathers the scattered shards with every chord. Every note.

Every second he doesn’t say goodbye.

A river flows into your pillow until it runs dry, and the Moon outside your blinds casts a silver blanket over your defeated shoulders.

And it’s only when you and your phone are dead to the world that the Sun steps in to peel it off with calm palms.

For the first time in a long time, you plan a sleepover at Taehyung’s.

And after getting a rundown of what happened, he completely agrees that you both need it.

It’s been a minute since you slept over there, and rolling onto his driveway makes you remember the first time it happened.

Your brother was outright flabbergasted you even asked.

But after some arguments from you and very clear energy from Tae, your brother waved you off and just demanded no funny shit better happen.

And you’ve spent so many nights over there since then that Taehyung’s one of the people he calls if he’s looking for you.

Being reminded of something else interesting, you think back to the first time you went to Yoongi’s, spending enough time there that he ended up on the list of people to call about your whereabouts.

As hot as he was picking up with a cheeky arm around you, it was surprising he was on that list in the first place.

Well, maybe not. They’re best friends. But why would he—

“You just gonna waste gas in my driveway or what?”

Snapping your head up, you see Taehyung looking bored, hands on his hips and wearing the most comfortable clothes you’ve ever seen.

Your glare in return is empty when you finally get out, circling around to grab your stuff and take-out from the passenger seat.

“You’re lucky I like you,” you joke as he goes to grab the food. Locking your car, you follow his grumbles into the house with a laugh, feeling a little okay already.

“How’s Jimin?”

“Still complicated, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.”

You sigh before you poke your noodles, knowing you have quite the catch-up to get through. If only your attempt at procrastination worked.

“Eat,” Taehyung orders before taking a hearty slurp of his meal. “I don’t care if you’re sad, this wasn’t cheap.”

“Excuse you.” He’s lucky you resist the urge to fling saucy food all over his shorts. “Also, I paid for it, the hell?”

When your friend blows air through his nose, you scoff before silently doing as he says, pouting at the beginning credits onscreen.

“How long has it been?”

Ah. That’s a good start.

As you peer down at your food, emotion and appetite abandon your palate,

“A month.”

“...Damn.”

Taehyung already knows all about what happened. But even if he didn’t, you think he would’ve caught on to your increasingly depressing song choices. And the way you barely watched Yoongi during the last intramural game.

“How’s the new job, though? Good distraction?”

That you can talk about for hours. “Thank fuck it is.”

“That’s good, at least.”

As your meal progresses, you continue to catch him up on everything, including the way night calls are the only thing keeping your hopes afloat.

Because Yoongi was right. Ever since the party, weekdays have been radio silent, and you soon got accustomed to looking forward to his late texts saying he’s home.

And you’ve been okay with that. Landing the job and getting swamped with training has kept you busy, and your friends have been a wonderful salve for persisting wounds.

It just stings when you know the studio is close by. Because even though Yoongi extended invitations before, you avoid that area like the plague.

“But enough about me,” you huff. “Still complicated with him, huh.”

If Taehyung knows you’re too sad to keep talking, he doesn’t show it. His response simply comes after a few chews. “Yeah. But”—he swallows—“Not in a way I’m mad about.”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung settles back into the sofa right as a ball of fluff hops on, and you watch the movie roll by while he gently orders him to get down. “He’s not as flaky. We just haven’t really labeled anything yet.”

That’s surprising to hear. Tae doesn’t strike you as the labeling type at all, so your question is genuine, “Do you need one?”

A huff is what you get in return, and you can hear the smile in his tone. “He seems to want one more than me. Which is why I don’t get the hesitation.”

“Mm.”

That makes more sense. Knowing what you know about Jimin, you aren’t shocked he would be conflicted about something he really wants.

Why he’s skirting around the point is the question. It’s clear to you that they would be so cute together. And sickly annoying in public.

“Maybe that’s a good sign,” you blurt, roping your friend’s gaze and attention. Spotlight on you instead of the characters bustling about his television, you smile. “It’s like he’s scared because he cares about your feelings.”

Not unlike what’s happening between another pair of friends you know.

Taehyung blinks, and you’ve always liked the way curiosity widens his eyes.

But he’s so quiet that you shift. “What?”

He keeps staring before biting an incoming smile. Before you can question him again, something brightens his expression. “You’ve changed, you know that?”

Huh. “Me? How?”

Your friend just grins before resting his head on the top of his cushion. “I’ve always known you were amazing. But now you look like you know that, too.”

All thoughts fizzle out before your jaw dips. When you try to present arguments, none materialize, and Taehyung laughs at the way you physically buffer.

“Not even denying it. I like this.”

“Shut up,” you finally pout, embarrassed and shy when he laughs again.

The rest of the film continues with nothing else but your commentary, and Taehyung clicks out of the queue screen before another one can start.

“Break? Or what do you feel like?”

You feel Yeontan’s fluff at your feet. “We can keep going.”

“Mmk.”

Both of you contemplate which one to pick when you feel your phone vibrate a ton. And when you see the notification, your heart leaps before crashing back down to the ground.

Yoongi [5:02pm]: Just got booked for another week

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Can’t talk now but

Yoongi [5:03pm]: Letting you know

Right.

You slowly let your hand drop with a sigh, and you can feel Taehyung’s pitied stare without moving.

“I know,” you whisper. “I shouldn’t be upset.”

“You can definitely be upset.”

You lift weary eyes to see that your assumption was very wrong. There’s no pity evident at all.

Only warmth. And understanding.

“Cus knowing him? He’s probably more frustrated than you are.”

There’s a pinch in your chest, a sharp one that cuts your breath for a small second in time.

Him? Being more upset than you?

You only thought about that possibility once, but you quickly dismissed it. There’s no way.

But hearing Tae say it from a guy’s perspective—and someone that knows how Yoongi can be—gives you pause.

It just didn’t make sense before because he sounds fine when you call, and he doesn’t really talk much about his own shit unless you ask. Which is strange considering he was fine doing so after your huge breakthrough at his place. Granted, it was mostly about good things.

Does he only hold back when it’s about stuff that stresses him out? That’s not ideal. You’ve told him before to tell you what’s bothering him, so if he’s still hesitant to let you in…

Taehyung’s honeyed voice brings you into the present,

“What are you gonna say?”

Blinking, you push your lips together in thought before looking at your phone again.

If Yoongi really is more upset than you are, then you should tell him something that you would wanna hear from him. Even if you aren’t feeling so hot.

You [5:07pm]: how’s ur back feel from carrying everyone so hard🥴

You [5:07pm]: jk its ok<3 you’re getting recognized and it’s about time

When you send those, something strange happens to your shoulders.

They’re lighter.

How is that possible? You’re still sad.

But your mind seems to clear some junk out, instead feeling a little okay about the whole thing.

Hopefully Yoongi receives them well. If he doesn’t, you’ll figure something else out.

Yoongi [5:09pm]: Lmaoo I’m saying. They better run me my check and cover my hospital bills.

You laugh with teary eyes, soul feeling like it’ll live despite plans being pushed back again.

The lingering sadness remains, but it’s dwindled for now. An afterthought to the slight happiness you feel from lifting him up instead of dragging him down.

Another message slides into the thread before you click your phone shut, so when Tae gets more food, you catch what it says.

Yoongi [5:11pm]: Fuck I miss you

And your heart beats extra loud, mouth slightly curved and wobbly because you agree but it’s okay, okay, okay. You can both do this.

You [5:12pm]: i miss you too.. but focus now and tell me all about it later

Of course you want to cry. Of course you want to curl up into a ball and sob.

Yoongi [5:15pm]: Thanks doll

But just like there’s strength in being strong, there’s just as much strength in being gentle.

Because as upset as you feel, it’s better if you don’t show it. While you aren’t completely resolute, you push forward in silence. Even if you can’t see the finish line.

The lingering feeling of anxiousness remains; the what-if’s batter your mind from the inside. But you choose to stay optimistic for him, and even you have to admit that’s admirable.

But the yearning still packs a fucking punch.

Your shoulders must be slumping to hell because you feel a warm presence settle against you, slinging an arm around and holding you close.

The only sound you make is a quick sniffle, but you don’t move as Taehyung reads the thread on your phone.

“You see what I see, right,” is all he whispers.

And when you slightly shrug, he leans his head against yours.

“You will.”

Nodding, you feel more tears follow the paths of their predecessors, and you don’t move to wipe them away. “You’re a good person, Tae.”

His chuckle sounds like a hearth, and you welcome Yeontan’s sniffs on your legs.

“Jimin’s lucky you’re even giving him a chance.”

“Ah.” After squeezing your bicep, your friend reaches down to pick up his baby. “He’s lucky I gave him more than one.”

“Oh? The luckiest then.”

“You can do this,” he murmurs. “He’ll be ready before you know it.”

With heavy eyes, you glance down at your still unfinished food.

“Maybe you’re right.”

One week turns into three.

Then two more pass.

And Taehyung might be less correct than you thought.

“Fuck,” you groan, clutching under your stomach. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”

“It’s okay.”

“At least you don’t have to see me this gross.”

“So?”

“You better stop.” Another eruption of pain shoots through your lower body, and you exhale into your pillow. “This is only making it worse.”

“You got a heating pad?”

A what? How does he know about—

Oh. Right.

…You probably shouldn’t tread waters you don’t know the depths of.

“Yeah. But it’s too far and I’m lazy.”

He laughs in pity but doesn’t show any in his words,

“Go get it, doll.”

Because being reminded of his last relationship also makes you wonder why it ended. And wonder if that also has anything to do with his decision.

Now hurt in multiple ways, you childishly retort, “You get it.”

“I would if I was there. But I’m not, so you’re gonna.”

“Fine.” You huff into your pillowcase, knowing you’re gonna get up because his perfect mix of support and command is annoyingly attractive. “How much longer?”

Yoongi’s too quiet for your tastes.

“I’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Eyes closed, you’re silent for eons.

“Okay.”

To your confusion, you get a food delivery at your office the next day.

Inspecting the contents of the bag, you’re cautious until you notice a takeout box of mandu under some sweets and a few all too familiar fruits.

And at the note inside, you promptly proceed to the least used bathroom to compose yourself.

Soon.

Soon and Almost are somewhat similar.

Both can give people a bit of hope.

But they can also be the most dangerous words to play with.

Because soon is hilariously arbitrary, and you almost believed it meant something good.

“Going to Yoongi’s.”

“K.”

“You wanna go? He’s having a few people over.”

You bite down so hard your jaw hurts. “Nah, I already have plans tonight.”

“K. Have fun!”

When the door closes, you keep your eyes on the television.

Arms falling at your side because you know you aren’t going anywhere.

On a random Tuesday, you finally get a package you’ve been waiting on for what seems like months, and you rush to your room to check if it’s exactly what you wanted.

When it looks so beautiful, and feels smooth to the touch, you clutch the material in sorrow.

It’s perfect.

And completely useless for the time being.

Calls have been the one thing getting you by.

But over time, even those have virtually stopped.

It can’t be helped. He’s working far too late into the night for you to stay awake, and is passed out by the time you need to wake up.

Spending time with friends helps distract from the drift, especially when one of them keeps snapping you into the present, but they’re getting busy, too.

However. Despite all the obstacles, you keep waiting. A season has passed, yet you stay grounded.

Hoping, wishing, choosing to believe that Yoongi’s not gonna do the same.

You accidentally spill your drink.

And you sob.

One chilly night, you take more of Taehyung’s advice, going to Jimin’s determined to have a good time.

But despite the manufactured confidence you had while getting dressed up and the way you were totally fine walking in and conversing with people and the admittedly perfect vibes of the party…

There’s a hole in your chest that won’t decrease in size.

No matter what you feed it—food, drinks, the compliments of others—it refuses to budge, and this emptiness holds weight. Heavy. Melancholic.

Painful.

As you suddenly find yourself on Jimin’s windy balcony, one with a slightly different view than the one you’ll remain on forever, dull eyes lower to your solo.

If you forget this one on the railing, too…

Will he finally show up to hand it back?

A sharp ache spreads as the hole expands, new tears too powerful to ignore. You know your vision swims, but you don’t move to stay afloat at all.

Three months.

Ninety days.

Eight million seconds.

It only took sixty for you to miss him. And it only took sixty-one for you to feel something else.

How many more will you end up counting? How long until you get to count down instead of up?

You keep asking yourself that. When you know for damn sure that you don’t want to know the answer.

A breeze wraps around your limbs as you sip, the chill cutting through your dress and making you teeter in your heels.

Because it seems like Yoongi doesn’t know, either.

To the point where it’s starting to scare you.

Has he been perfect otherwise? Sickeningly.

But something in you keeps wondering why the wait keeps extending, anxious that he could be flat out stalling.

Prematurely saddened by the possibility that he’s reconsidering entirely.

It makes sense. At least, more sense than him actually wanting something with you. Maybe this time apart has given him the clarity to realize how rose-tinted this whole situation has been. How unrealistic and laughable.

But that night in his kitchen…

It’s getting harder and harder to stay positive.

On the verge of defeat, you hold out your phone, clicking around until your finger hovers over a certain Call button.

You can’t.

He’s working. Someone could see your name, if he has it saved as normal as you have his.

Your finger moves a bit closer.

What the fuck are you doing? Stop. Don’t screw up everything you’ve had to endure with one impulsive decision.

But your mind is fucking bad tonight and you have no clue why.

When the screen lights up with the call screen anyway, ice water rushes through because you totally didn’t mean to call and you need to end it now.

Hold on, it’s an incoming call?

Oh fuck, it’s an incoming call.

Your throat sears as your eyes shut tight.

How the fuck did he know? How the fuck does he always know?

Tears burning, you try your hardest to calm the hell down before you answer, wondering why he dubs you his good luck charm when he puts guardian angels to shame.

You can’t even say hello.

“Hey.”

Fuck. Get it together. Gentle, silent, strong.

“Hello?”

But you can’t. Not this time. Just hearing his voice for the first time in weeks has you crumbling, and that damn hole in your chest is unquenchable.

As soon as your greeting is nothing but a weak sniffle, his change in tone seizes your soul and squeezes.

Because it plummets.

“Where are you.”

There’s quick shuffling and a door opening.

“What’s wrong.”

Damn it there’s keys jangling and you can’t help but sob even harder knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Goddamn it, Min Yoongi. He doesn’t have to go home just because you’re what, sad? Pathetic.

You feel way too many things for this man and it fucking sucks that eight million seconds have gone by after you finally acknowledged them.

However many you get with him now, whenever that may be, you’re not taking a single one for granted.

“Babe, tell me. Now.”

“Jimin’s. Outside,” you choke out, sniffling and wiping both cheeks. “But nothing happened, Yoongi, I just—It just—”

“Gimme twenty. Can you do that?”

Lowering your head and expectations, you huff in sad amusement.

Of course you can. Twenty minutes is nothing to you now. You can wait until he’s free. “Guess so.”

“K. Go back inside and grab a bag.”

Huh? Knitted brows get aimed at your cup as you question him.

“Chips, doll. Jimin has some in the pantry.”

That doesn’t answer anything, so you remain thoroughly confused. “I’ll be okay,” you respond after a moment, simply assuming he wants you to replenish sodium. “I’m not hungry.”

“I am.”

You freeze.

So does time.

And the next three seconds are enough.

“But you better bring the good shit or I’m not letting you in the car.”

After camping in the only unoccupied bathroom, you finally get a text that he’s somewhere around the corner.

And your chest has never felt lighter.

Texting Tae, you let him know that you’re leaving and that you don’t apologize to Jimin for raiding his kitchen. When he responds, that’s when you slip out, your departure a mess of crinkling and racing heartbeats.

If anyone sees you walking out with chips, you pay them no mind. Because you only care what one person thinks.

And seven minutes later, when you see him doubling over at the bazillion noisy bags in your arms, you laugh along at the absurdity of it all.

It’s almost enough to distract you from what he’s wearing.

But to your credit, you don’t exactly see the damn rips in his jeans until he opens a back door for you to throw your haul in.

As if the black top wasn’t already disrespectful enough. His hair has even gotten longer, and you really, really like the new length.

“Fucking hustler.”

No second is wasted as you grab his shirt, positively melting at the way he doesn’t resist or shy away at all.

In fact, he does the exact opposite, crushing you against his warm car so fast he has to brace himself. You welcome the way air leaves your lungs, because you’re giving it all to him with each pass of his lips over yours.

Both of you know you’re outside, in public, somewhere you can be seen. But, mirroring the last time you kissed under a starry sky, neither of you act like you give a shit.

Just like that, everything that has haunted you fades. The worries, the fears, the doubts. It doesn’t matter how many days have passed, because it feels like he never left.

And you suddenly know Yoongi is summer.

Endless.

“Get in,” he rasps through a smirk. “Thief.”

With a grin spread so wide your cheeks hurt, you respond right as your foreheads meet,

“Anything for you.”

With nothing but the road ahead and him beside you, everything is right with the world.

“You still have to gimme chips.”

Maybe not quite everything.

Smile ruining your attempted pout, you reach behind your seat to pick a random bag, settling on the easiest one to grab. “You really made me get these just for you, huh? Are you eating?”

“Yes, my love. And I never said that.”

Well. That first sentence will never, ever, ever be unpacked.

As you shakily open the bag, you hope his music hides your shiver, “Such a smartass.”

“You’re the smartass.”

“Don’t act like you aren’t smart, too,” you laugh, tugging down your dress because he has his car pretty cold tonight. “I know you are.”

When Yoongi reaches to grab some crisps, his blatant stare on your thighs makes you squirm. “Why?”

“I just… You read.”

To your chagrin, he laughs in surprise, forcing you to look out the window.

Which makes you miss the way he turns down the fans. “I’m smart cus I read? How do you even know?”

“You have books under your coffee table,” you answer without doubt as he digs for more chips. “And you don’t have decor just to have it, so…”

He cocks a brow before focusing on the road, licking his fingers and giving you grief. “I moved those, by the way.”

“Em”—you cough—“Embarrassed?”

“Proactive.”

“Huh? For what?”

He can barely contain his spreading curve. “The next time you decide to fuck up my place.”

Your heartbeat skips as you gawk, and the current song is overshadowed by your playful shouts and tickle attempts. “Oh, bullshit!”

“You soaked—aish—my whole apartment!”

“That was you!”

“No?”

“Yes? I was nice and only got your head wet!”

Yoongi glances at you then, head tilted up in cockiness and wide smirk slicing through your every thought.

And you glitch when you realize why.

Settling back into your seat with arms guarding your shyness, you sniff upward. “Ugh. Whatever… I’m right.”

He chuckles a bit before making a turn, and the scenery starts getting familiar.

Way too familiar.

Wait, he’s taking you back to your house?

No no no. Why is he taking you there?

You got into his car fully prepared to go back to his place, consequences and shit be damned. Everything else be damned. One night is all you want right now, and there’s no way you aren’t going without a fight.

All sense of the current mood dissipates when you grip his forearm. “Not there.”

He flicks his gaze, rolling to a stop at an intersection that’s frighteningly close. And his expression falls when he shifts into park with a sigh. “Babe… We can’t.”

“I don’t care.”

“I was only gonna bring you back.”

“Baby, please.”

“He’s home—”

“Do you still miss me?”

He freezes.

Which gives you a chance.

Eyes glossy, you use all the seconds you have to say everything you’ve kept to yourself.

Almost everything.

“Because I get it if you don’t. I do. But I really… I really fucking miss you. And not just because of, whatever. But I consider you a friend and fun as hell to be around, and I haven’t”—you inhale, hating how it shakes—“I haven’t been this happy in weeks. And we aren’t even doing anything.”

Yoongi is completely silent. But that’s okay because you aren’t done.

“I know you said I wouldn’t see you. But after getting to know you? The real you? …That sucks.” You can’t look at him when his hand slips from the wheel. “I’m not gonna make you change anything, just. Telling you what’s on my mind. Like you said. I’m gonna do that a lot more now.”

He doesn’t say a word as a tear cuts one of your cheeks, and you’re brave enough to look his way again. “But it’s been three months, Yoongi,” you whisper. “Is that still not enough for you?”

Time ticks as you hold your breath, oxygen depleting and lungs nearing collapse as you watch his eyes close.

You laid everything out on the table. Your words, your thoughts, your pain.

Whatever he decides, though? You’ll respect it. You said what you wanted to say and you won’t take any of it back. If he wants to prolong this, you won’t stop him. If he doesn’t want this anymore… the home in your heart will need repairs, but you’ll live. Somewhat. You don’t know how but somehow. People are like seasons. You’re used to it.

Yoongi’s still way too quiet.

So, giving up and getting the point, you reach up to open your door.

“Stop.”

You do.

And the way he flexes his jaw shoots magma through your veins before he wrenches the car into drive.

The universe spins as you burst into Yoongi’s apartment, running, bumping, slamming into furniture until you get thrown against his bedroom door.

Welcoming the pain, you devour his scorching lips, fingers digging into his hair with a desperation that frightens you. All you feel is him him him, barely recalling the manic drive over and the way he all but busted into his own place.

If there were any lingering doubts to your question, they’re left out in the chill, not allowed to witness the way he hitches your leg up before pinning you firm with his pelvis.

“Shouldn’t be fucking doing this—”

You moan at the way his jeans feel on your skin, shivers running rampant when you more than feel his hardness poke through. “Please,” you pant, sticking to your word and ready to tell him what you want.

“Please what.”

Everything you want.

Tugging his head back, your admissions rub right against his mouth, “Choke me. Use me. I don’t care, do it all.”

“Huh?”

A breath whooshes out when he yanks you forward with a growl, and you cannot seem to stop, “Don’t be nice. Spit in my mouth. Make me beg like a fucking slut, I need it.”

All the other times, you’ve seen Yoongi break in different ways.

But this is the first time you’ve felt him legitimately snap.

“The fuck.”

Lightning strikes the dark as he slams you backward, teeth clinking against yours when he smothers you with saliva and lust. When he shoves his door open, you stumble back, more unholy plans in mind than he imagines.

You don’t know what’s coming over you.

Even as you force him sideways to shove into his rolling chair, the piercing look he gives is no match for your inner storm.

“Babe—”

Impatient, you drop to your knees, the pain nothing to you as your fingers twitch over his zipper. As you tug his pants down with force, Yoongi’s outright shock is another first for you.

“Are you su—”

“Let me do this,” you plead upward, and you feel highly motivated when he doesn’t do a thing except let out a low, gritty hum.

Grabbing at his cock, you already moan at the way it feels in your palm…

Softly, oh so softly, a large hand closes over yours, and you hear your name in a whisper, haze temporarily receding.

What’s wrong? Does he want you to stop?

When you ask without a word, Yoongi leans forward to capture your lips, and this gives you a warm sort of deja vu. “You drank tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah…?” Oh. He totally tasted alcohol. And your frantic behavior. He thinks—Oh.

Understanding what he’s getting at, you reach up and caress his cheek. “I’m not drunk, baby,” you chuckle. “I just missed you.”

Again, he looks at your eyes, one after the other. When you say it once more for good measure, he kisses you in acceptance.

“So are you gonna fuck my throat or nah?”

He falls back with a groan, raking his hair and legs spread wide. “What are you doing to me.”

“This.”

Without prompt, you dive head first, leaning forward to take his tip and swirl your tongue all around. Commanding his every drop of attention, you don’t let up as you tug your dress downward, breasts spilling out before you stand just enough to claim his lips.

He takes full advantage with a devilish curve, smacking your tits before ordering, “Get the fuck back down there.”

And you obey with a proud smirk of your own, hoping he’s liking this new side of you, too.

Back between his knees, you worship his length in earnest, swallowing him again and again and lathering him in saliva so your hands slide easily on him, too. When you feel his veins rub both your palms, you hear a symphony of lustful baritones.

“Holy fuck.”

You quickly discover you can’t get enough. Lapping, sucking, sheathing your head on his cock so far your brain smushes upward. He feels so familiar at this point that you realize you missed him even here, knocking the back of your throat and burdening your tongue with heavenly, sinful weight.

And you feel more familiar palms grip your head, eyes opening to see him staring down with reverence and something you can’t quite decipher.

“So fucking filthy...”

You chuckle, the rumble making him hiss and throw his head back against his chair.

“Don’t do that.”

You gladly disobey, laughing even harder around him before releasing with an expert pop to suck on his balls.

“Fuck!”

There’s a slight squeak before he grips you again, and you can tell he’s slipping by the way his moans devolve into breathy, short hisses.

Breaking, he pushes your head into his sack before slapping your cheek with his cock, and you hum as it slips back inside your grin.

Yes yes yes. You want him to enjoy this just as much as you do, steal this time together and run with it, need him to hang on the brink of mania where you currently reside. Because even though he’s saying things, you can’t hear them over the wholly impure sounds slopping out of your esophagus.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he praises, thrusting up slow as you keep him slathered. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

You finally come up for air, gulping in air and letting him see you in all your panting glory. When you lock eyes, his lidded gaze is loaded, aimed only at your taunting stare.

Drool coats you in globs. Your chest, the floor, hanging from your lips as you stroke him with wet fingers before swallowing another time.

And you think you can do this until your jaw falls off.

But suddenly you’re hoisted upward before being thrown onto soft sheets, legs roughly shifted to one side as you paint the dark with your hoarse giggles. Before you know it, his lips attack your chest, and he’s setting butterflies wild as you arch in record time.

“Take this off,” he growls, tugging at your dress with sweaty fingers that you want lodged in multiple places. “No more hiding.”

You mewl, undressing as fast as you’re able, tearing the garment off and flinging it away. But your heels are still on, and whether he’s just as deft at removing those, too, you’ll need to hit pause. “What about my—”

“Don’t,” he grits with brows pinched, and his next vow is absolute, pure sin,

“I’m fucking you with them on.”

“Oh, fuck.” Your whine is high as you throw your head back, the next groan guttural as you feel a hand smack the side of your ass with force. Your jaw comes loose, soreness shooting through its curve as your legs are erotically parted to give Yoongi a view of everything.

You know your panties are soaked.

You know he’s gonna wreck your shit.

But seeing him eye the whole mess on display before lifting his hungry gaze your way? You’re damn sure you aren’t gonna survive the night.

Perfect.

“Please fuck me, baby,” you let out with a tone so soft that you think he doesn’t hear you.

He does. “I’m gonna do a lot more than that, doll.”

You tilt your head, confused and wondering what he means.

But he ignores your wordless question, sliding fingers along your ankle before holding your leg to kiss that same spot.

The action alone is enough to rewire your brain, but it’s the way he looks so confident, so unbothered, so determined that has your insides churning with want.

He plants lips there again before shifting his hand down to your calf, yanking your leg back wide and pulling a tiny help out of your throat. When he shifts to grip your other leg, he growls under his breath,

“So fucking perfect.”

“No, you,” you counter with a pout, and flinch what the fuck his slap to your cunt felt good. “Hey!”

“None of that,” Yoongi orders with finality. “Not after all that shit you said at the door.”

“I dunno what happened there,” you admit, inevitably shy under his commanding presence. Your cheeks sizzle before your teeth grip your lip, temporarily brought back to normalcy at his confession,

“Almost made me come.”

“Be for real.”

“Damn serious.”

The cheshire cat would be jealous of your grin. “Then I should keep going?”

“Uh huh.” He cups your whole cunt, and the possessive nature it exudes pushes a whine against your teeth. “Tell me.”

“Fuck me like you missed me.”

A groan rips through his room before he swoops down, lips bruising yours on the landing before he shoves his mouth against your neck.

Tingles erupt over your skin as he laps at your throat, so hard that your entire upper body slides across his rumpled sheets. When you feel his cock rub across your thong and his jeans grazing your skin, his name flies out of your chest. Moans, sighs, everything in between.

“Careful,” he warns low before another toe-curling lick. “You won’t leave if I did that.”

“I don’t want to,” you grit in return, reaching to sink claws in his hair and tug. “Wanna stay.”

Strong arms wrap around you before you feel him spread liquid fire up your shoulder, and he reaches to nip at your ear before deft fingers flick a nipple.

His voice rasps against your cheek, but the words sound reluctant to even leave. “You shouldn’t even be here, babe.”

Fuck. You know that’s true but your heart is rattling like a monster starved.

“Just tonight,” you plead your case. Because you don’t want to be shooed away before it’s over, but if this is all you get, he needs to do something now. “But if you really don’t want this then please kick me out before—”

“Fuck that.” After greedily tweaking your other nipple, he rolls his body against yours, making you fiend for the weighty cock wedged against you with only thin material between. “Fuck all of that.”

He rushes upward before nudging your leg over with a strong hand, and you fixate on the way his chains hit his chest. Just like always. “Don’t move.”

You don’t even get to breathe twice as he drops from sight, and you yelp to his roof as soon as you feel teeth nick your inner thigh. At your flinch, you feel him grip your leg with force, ordering you even harsher,

“I said. Don’t move.”

“But—Yoongi!”

You don’t notice him yank your underwear sideways before flattening a hot tongue against your folds, sucking so good you have to back away from the stimulation. Immediately, both your legs are seized before he tugs you back to him.

“Uh uh.”

And he keeps your legs apart before diving deep, and you’ve never devolved into a quivering mess so fast in your goddamn life. The way he licks, sucks, kisses just where you need—everything sends thunder through your chest, lightning across your cunt, rain into your eyes.

You can do nothing but squirm, squeals and whines and high moans leaving arrowheads in his ceiling.

Holy fuck, did you sound this loud when you worshipped him? Even now, spread wide and willing to give Yoongi the world, you find a moment to be embarrassed in the best way.

If the neighbors hear, you don’t care. They’re gonna know how well he’s feasting on you, how gorgeously corrupt you feel. How you’re his and his alone and ready to scream it to the rooftops.

When you feel a finger alongside his tongue, the sound you make borders on inhuman. You think it’s his name, but even you aren’t quite sure.

All you know is that you’re close. Your thighs are burning and your fingers swipe at his locks but he refuses to let you go. “Yoongi—I’m—”

Suddenly.

He stops.

And every nice thing you have to say to him falls to the wayside. “No no no! Please, fuck—”

The light tap to your cunt makes you quiver, and your chest heaves when he chuckles without pity,

“What’d you say?”

“Plea—Baby!”

“Huh?”

Every fucking time you speak, he taps again. And every time he gets you close, he edges with aggravating control. Again. And again.

And again.

You exist between reality and fiction, somehow seeing yourself unwinding, winding, spiraling out of control. Words start to form abstract blobs of syllables, your mouth hanging open as he peppers lazy, unbothered kisses on your thighs.

In your foggy vision, you think you see him stand. And you’re pretty sure he grabs his cock before he’s rubbing his thick head between your folds oh fuck—

“This is what you wanted, huh.”

Your breath hitches with a whine as you nod.

“You gonna be a good little slut?”

Oh, you’re gonna be whatever he fucking wants. So you nod again, not without a smile lopsided.

“Then fucking beg.”

He smacks his cockhead against your cunt, springing your back in an arch and tugging strings of incoherent speech from your depths. You make hard lines of his sheets as you grip them in both palms, and you don’t wanna know what you’re saying because the way Yoongi’s staring with a smirk has you blacking the fuck out.

To the point where you’re nothing but a quivering, shaking, restless mess on his bed.

You somehow closed your eyes at some point, because they fly open when you feel his lips on yours, and you tug at his stupidly attractive shirt that he didn’t bother to pull off. “Please,” you whisper, brain floating oceans away. “I need you.”

“Need you, too.”

He breaks away to grab a condom, and this is when you realize how intertwined you feel because even this distance is too much to bear. You’re spilling nonsense and breathing harsh and you attribute that to the sole fact that you crave release. It’s aching. Consuming.

Yoongi’s already naked and prepped by the time he positions himself between your sore legs, and you give in without resistance again when he descends on your lips.

When you whisper his name, he kisses it away, and you briefly wonder why his hands shake running up your sides.

Finally, finally, finally, he gives exactly what you want, the initial connection stretching you sore because it’s been way too long. And you feel emotional when you don’t even doubt it’s been too long for him, too.

Because his eyes speak volumes.

They hold onto your every move, watch your every reaction, hesitate when you blow out air accommodating his size.

But you lock yours with him when you relax, weakly grasping his jewelry before sliding fingers up his shoulders. When you nod, he pushes in further, both of you sighing in tandem.

And as soon as you whisper you’re ready, all niceties fly out the window.

You’re thrusted up his bed with a determined stroke before he sets a pace, and your head kicks back as soon as a hand captures your neck.

“Look at me,” he commands, and he gives you a light pat on the cheek before squeezing your jaw. “Open up.”

When you do, spit flings from his mouth into yours, and you already sprint to the edge feeling the weight of your heels and the strength of his body. “Fuck!”

You get pat again—rougher this time—before Yoongi goes to choke you a second time. “What do you say?”

“Me?” you pant, tearing the first thought from your throat when he grits it again. “Thank—”

Fuck, his dick is hitting every spot you need it to. It takes you a second to repeat your garbled guess in full, knowing it’s something you would’ve said anyway. “Thank you.”

“Now swallow.”

As soon as he shoves inside, your obedience is your undoing. The skies open to welcome you as your body locks, thighs squeezing his taut sides as he moans through your release. Waves tug you unbelievably far, and you almost lose yourself in the swell before you crash onto shore again.

“Such a whore for me,” Yoongi praises, kicking you back to the very first night and making you melt. When you peel eyelids open, you notice his smile matches yours, and the shared, cherished memory smoothens your gravelly laugh.

“Love when you do that,” you admit, shaking your head at your own strange preferences. “Don’t know why.”

“Me neither.” He spears you again with a cheeky lip bite. “But it’s so fucking hot.”

Your grin can’t be contained, and this is where you wanna be. Right here. Nowhere else in the fucking universe.

“I’m ready,” you pant, and he gives you a brief look of affection—which you shatter with force. “Fuck the shit out of me.”

Yoongi twitches madly inside your core as he expels a pained, breathy laugh. “Goddamn, this isn’t good for me.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t waste a second gathering your calves while you ponder what he says. “Hold these pretty legs up for me. There you go.”

When you find the easiest way to do so, you marvel at how shaky and slippery your thighs are, wondering if the rest of you is faring any better.

It’s not.

But you can’t dwell on that now because Yoongi is holding on like he’ll lose you, resuming a delicious pace and smacking your hips into his with the most indecent sounds.

Your whines soon join in, and his hums of satisfaction fuel your ever going flame. Heaven and earth could move and you would remain here, suspended in time as he fills you perfectly with every fast stroke.

“Feel so good—”

When he leaves your cunt, you mewl before he grunts, “Fucking—Get up.”

What is he—

You’re hoisted upward so quickly that you see starlight, not even registering the clanks and shifts of items before he’s spinning to pin you down on a solid surface. Your heels find purchase on the floor but your knees prove unbelievably weak.

What’s—

Oh fuck, are you on his desk?

Your hands retreat until they find an edge to grab, and you moan outright when you feel his fingers slide up your cunt, shoving your thong farther over one side of your ass.

“Yoongi—”

You feel full in an instant, jaw going slack as he shoves you backwards on his cock, praises washing down your back as he pushes down any arches you instinctively make.

“Uh uh. Stay like that.”

“I wanna—” Your words are cut off with a whine as you feel a sting on your ass. “Fuck!”

“There you go.”

The rock of the desk is so strong that every bang against the wall booms loud, equipment sliding back and forth and making you briefly worry if anything will fall.

But this is the most turned on you’ve ever, ever felt, and you have no fucking clue why.

You wonder if he feels the same right before his dark laugh consumes you.

“Goddamn.”

Your hands are grabbed before he shoves you forward, letting more of your body lie on the surface so that he can pin sweaty arms at your back.

Oh, fuck!

Your moans glide across wood as he doesn’t let up, and you don’t even want to know how much drool will exist on his desk when you’re done. Maybe you’ll never be done. Maybe he really will keep you here forever, and you’ll soak his whole—

“Come here.”

He gathers your wrists in one large palm before reaching to grip your chest, hauling you up and securing you against his body by the throat.

And you think your soul just left your earthly vessel.

Pressing you further into him, he grits in your ear,

“Never fucking kicking you out.” His tight stroke launches you across space. “Don’t even think about saying that again.”

When did you— You said— Why don’t you remember—

You go limp when he shoves into you again, but your heels wobble and you focus damn hard on staying upright.

But Yoongi doesn’t give a shit. “You hear me?” When you let out a breathy confirmation, he still isn’t satisfied. A hand pats your cheek before he asks again, “Say it louder.”

“Yes!”

“Good.”

He drops all talk, pistoning in from behind while you take it and take it and love it. Mercifully, he lets your sore arms go to pin you down again, gritted words and curses dancing with your high-pitched sighs.

Fuck, his strokes are so deep that you see into the next universe, and you don’t think your mouth has been shut ever since you made contact with his desk.

Maybe he was more frustrated than you were. He’s using you as stress relief like you intended, and his roughness is a fantastic surprise.

It’s just what you need. Which kicks you into a whole other level of want and the beast inside you transforms yet again.

When Yoongi yanks himself out, you’re quick to spin and shove him backward. As he flops onto the bed, he laughs like sin incarnate when you pounce, his hot hands grabbing at your hips and encouraging your behavior in the nastiest way.

“Let’s go then, pretty bitch.”

“You already fucking know.”

“Show me what I’ve been missing.”

“Don’t fall in love.”

When you sink onto him, Yoongi’s already groaning. But when you start to swivel at a pace that will render you sore, he begins to lose it.

“Fuck.”

His head kicks back, eyes shut and brows pinched to hell. After holding your waist, he has to slap his sheets to squeeze even tighter, chest marred with red under pretty silver.

You make sure every rotation is full, slowly rocking with each circle you make and gritting teeth at how fucking big he is.

Soon, his hisses devolve into groans, and he snaps his head back up to slap your breasts—one after the other before gripping your hips so hard you welcome the pain.

“Fuck, I missed this pussy,” he confesses with husk, and you whine in response as you lower yourself to kiss him deep.

“It missed you, too.”

Coming back up, you dig one of your hands in his mattress while bracing on him with the other, and you close your eyes in bliss as you arch your tits toward his hungry lips.

Just like you want, he chuckles in satisfaction as he suckles, lolling his tongue all around before giving your nipple a hard suck. His noises remind you of lollipops, and you briefly think of a few fun things you could do with those for next time.

But a hand juts up to seize the back of your neck, forcing you to arch in place as he starts thrusting hard.

“Yoongi!”

“Uh huh.”

Before you can talk again, his other hand joins in to choke you just enough, and you find yourself teetering on a precipice. Holy fuck, holy fuck, you’re close again.

“You gonna come?”

A frantic nod.

“Then come.”

As soon as you hear the words, you do exactly that, windpipe released just as you pulse around him incredibly hard. The waves prove tsunamis, and you dangle from their crests before plummeting and tumbling below. Your moan extends as he thrusts erratically through your quivers, encouraging you and digging rough fingers into your hips.

“Again.”

Somehow, that’s enough to make your body obey, and you cry out as you flutter around his trembling cock, hearing him talk you through it but not quite understanding what he’s saying.

Maybe you also choose not to listen because of what you think you hear, and you don’t want to be haunted if you realize later on what you thought you heard wasn’t true.

The world rotates up as Yoongi sits up, and you sling arms around him as he leans back on his hands. Your breath hitches at the new angle he’s filling you at, and your eyes swirl when he coolly, confidently commands,

“Again.”

You can’t you can’t you can’t but you can. Holy fuck apparently you can, and this time, it consumes you so hard your eyes roll back enough to see the past. Past you, insecure and meek and scared to say what they want.

Oh, if they could witness you now.

You shudder impossibly hard around him, coated with his deep chuckles and dashing, ego-ridden grin. It’s all you see before you slump against his chest, heartbeat pounding against yours when you can’t feel any bone in your body.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Two hearts.

One night is enough.

“So fucking perfect.”

“For you,” you wisp out, lost in galaxies. “Only you.”

He can only kiss the side of your head in response, gently lowering you both onto spent cotton and helping you straighten out your muscle-locked legs. When he asks if you’re okay, you can only nod, and he plants another kiss on your temple before sliding off his protection.

Both of you take time to calm down, breaths heavy from what felt like a marathon. But a much better marathon than the one you’ve had to endure over the last three months.

When you lie against his chest, you silently thank him for giving you tonight. It’s the riskiest thing you��ve ever done with him, but you won’t worry about it. Not right now. Not when you feel more at home here than your own house.

Your brother is right. Something is definitely missing over there.

It’s when your pants have relaxed into soft breaths that you nudge your head against Yoongi’s chest, eyes shut in peace as he lazily draws circles on your back.

And the first words he says in minutes inject sparkles into your eyes,

“I need to re-up this damn cat’s food.”

Oh, shit!

Your outright squeal is surely coming out too loud but you don’t care. Don’t care don’t care don’t care not when Yoongi just gave away so many different things.

This man leaned right into the whole thing.

“I knew it!” You proclaim in triumph, smacking his thigh while hearing a very elongated ‘shut up’ at your side. “Tried to hide it from me all these months? Somebody’s getting soft.”

“First off.”

“Uh huh.”

God. If only you both could go on one of those late night shopping trips he talked about before. Maybe you could’ve gotten plenty of things. Like some little cat toys, or extra storage cabinets for your clothes.

Yeah. Stuff like that.

“I’m her favorite.”

Your scoff is immediate as you hoist yourself up, leaning on your hand and regretting the burn in your arm. “Only because you gatekeeped her.”

A soft disagreement precedes a more prominent, “Won’t even matter.”

Yoongi looks so at peace when you stare, and your voice calms to match as it floats down, “You took care of her.”

When he only smiles, you decide that this is how you want him to be all the time. Content and outright glowing, fireflies dancing in his eyes.

Does he feel at home, too?

“She was gonna be your surprise,” he finally murmurs. “For getting the gig.”

Heart and tear ducts full, you lower yourself to tenderly press lips to his. And, since it seems to work for you, his forehead is what you decide to kiss next.

Then you pull away.

Wondering why he’s not smiling anymore.

“Come here.”

You blink, lying back down to snuggle against his side. When his arm wraps around your shoulder, it's only then that you’re aware you still have shoes on. A clean person, you hope Yoongi doesn’t mind them touching his sheets.

But maybe it’s a tad too late for that concern.

“How are you gonna get home?”

Oh, right. You use his chest to scratch an itch in your nose before responding, “I’ll call a ride in the morning. He’ll be out cold until noon at the earliest.”

“K.”

“Did I keep you from anything?”

A puff flies out his nostrils. “Kinda late for that, huh.”

“True,” you sigh, berating yourself for thinking a lot of things too late. “Sorry.”

“But no, we were finishing up when I called.”

“Okay… Did I scare you?” You lift your eyes then, because you need to know for sure.

When he levels a look, you curse at his quiet confirmation. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“S’ok.”

“I just… It hurt tonight.” Emotion washes over your face before you bury it. “Really hurt.”

After a light squeeze, Yoongi gently rolls you over, resting his head exactly where your hand clutches your chest. When you move your fingers, he kisses that same spot, and your heart stops. “How about now.”

Feeling the deepest pain you’ve ever felt in your life, you cradle his head with a whisper,

“Maybe try that one more time.”

And he does, not looking at your tears as he sits up to peer down the bed.

When he scoots down to the edge, your breath catches as he holds a heel in sure hands, his back beautiful even with the scars. While he works through leather straps, he starts to speak,

“I always do, babe.”

Blinking, you ask what he means as he slips your shoe off with ease.

“Miss you.”

As he tenderly holds the other, you gulp in oxygen to quell the sear around your eyes. “I just… Wasn’t sure,” you admit, voice wavering.

His hair falls forward when he sighs, and his palms feel way too relaxing to just be taking your heels off. Even now, it feels like he’s revering you. And you truly don’t know how you deserve any of this.

“That’s my fault.”

Throat small, you’re swift to reassure him. “No, no. I need to just suck it up. I’m sorry.”

After freeing your other foot, he rubs it without prompt, and you don’t know how to deal with someone giving you this level of care.

“Just a little bit longer, doll,” he says, and you admire his profile when he turns. “I’m sorry.”

“You gave me tonight.”

When he swallows, you reassure him with all the support you can give,

“A little longer is nothing.”

A moment passes by before he finally moves, and you catch a hint of a smile right before he faces his disheveled to hell desk again.

Deciding that conversation has concluded, you crack the atmosphere with a joke, “You liked whatever happened over there, huh.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s shoulders bob with a laugh before he admits, “Fucking you on my desk? I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leans forward. “There’s a lot of shit I’ve wanted us to do for months.”

Us.

Thoroughly giddy and full of life again, you egg him on. “Oh? Like what?”

Finally, he looks over his shoulder with a grin, and you scoff in frustration at his answer,

“What’s the fun in telling you?”

“Ass!”

While you’re getting ready to shower, he leans against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“We have a game next week.”

As you fetch a towel from his cabinet, you clarify, “The championship, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll be there,” you confirm, walking away to slip the thick cloth over its rack. “I can’t believe it’s still going.”

“Same. But there’ve been a lot of delays, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Your hand feels out the water, satisfied with its temperature. “I meant your win streak but whatever.”

And you squeal when he rushes forward, shutting the glass with a wobbly thud before he can get to you. When you stick out a childish tongue, you laugh under the spray, curve slowly, curiously, softly fading when he simply keeps staring.

What’s he doing?

You don’t move as he slowly slides the entrance open again, and you don’t dare breathe as he leans inside to kiss your wet lips.

When you tenderly take one of his wrists and pull, he obliges without hesitation, and you take another shower with the man that sets fireworks off in your soul.

An hour later, filled with food and laughter—and slight disappointment when you couldn’t find your surprise near his door—you occupy his bed with full bellies and fresh minds.

As he lies on your chest, you think this is better, because it gives you time to think about things. And tell him about others.

You finally tell him what all happened with Jungkook, to which he listens without a single word. When you can’t seem to shut up about your job, he doesn’t stop you, and you adore the way he cuddles you under faint moonlight cutting through his window.

“Oh, wait,” you stop, feeling like you’ve talked his head off by now. “What did you call about?”

“Huh? Tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“We finally have a confirmed date. For that album,” Yoongi rumbles against the shirt he let you borrow. “I was gonna invite you to the release party.”

Whoa, what the fuck? “Me?”

He chuckles soft, and you wonder if he can guess how shocked you look. “Yes, you. All of y’all.”

At least it’s everyone. But at the same time, you still hesitate. “That won’t be weird?”

“Nah. You can bring anyone you want, so. I was assuming you’d bring your friends.”

“Ah, I see.”

You didn’t mean to sound disappointed. You truly aren’t. But Yoongi pushes up to comfort you anyway, planting kisses along your skin, your neck, and finally your lips.

“It won’t be the only one,” he promises. “We got time.”

“Duh,” you giggle. “And I’ll be at all of them. Whether you like it or not.”

Yoongi regards you before laying his weight back on your chest. And you find it strange how familiar his body already feels. How you’re already attuned to every way his legs fit against your own, or how you would know it’s him solely based on how his chest molds with yours.

You start mindlessly caressing his hair, fingers weaving through a dark sea of strands before smoothing over its surface.

And you start to hum.

It’s not really any song, just notes you start stringing together at random. You build up before you dip back down, staying in a comfortable middle range and dancing between similar tones.

You stop from time to time, trying to figure out what would sound best next and changing up the cadence. Always coming back to a central theme because it’s what you deem best.

And you’re so comfortable that you completely forgot he’s lying right under your chin.

“Shit, was I too loud?”

He just shakes his head, arm pressing a bit more into your side.

“Not at all.”

So you keep going, humming more familiar tunes and phrases, softly giggling when Yoongi huffs at the way you drum on his head.

And that’s how the night goes on, with you at peace and him in your embrace.

Never noticing how the shirt you're wearing collects rain.

When dawn breaks, you part with one final, heavenly kiss.

Yoongi watches until you get in the ride he politely called for you, and you spend the whole drive with eyes filled with light.

You can do this. Just a little longer, he said.

For him, you can do anything.

But when you get home, your brother occupies the foyer as soon as you open the front door.

And you feel the world shatter and crash at your feet.

“I think,” he states, “There’s something you wanna tell me.”

—

tbc. :)

—

a ha ha... what do we think/like! | wanna support with a 🍊?

A/N: i’m so swirly-eyed that i don’t even know what to say here other than i’m sorry for throwing that ending at y’all! busted pt. 2 is gonna be its own huge part at this point so i had no choice but to end it here (originally it was gonna end before they went back to yoongi’s but i love y’all too much dlkfjdsklf) A/N 2: gonna say this again: enormous thank you to everyone supporting this whole journey, whether that’s liking/commenting/reblogging/messaging, recommending this series to people, telling me how it makes you feel or what it means to you, or even wanting a physical copy of the series like😭 that’s surreal to me and makes me wanna keep working harder. A/N 3: as far as feedback, i would absolutely love any type y’all wanna give. this chapter took all of my brainpower and the next one is gonna take just as much haahahahdksfks so any encouragement would be wonderful! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist

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