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#taehyung smut
taegularities · 2 days ago
soaring high | kth (m)
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Summary: A twelve-hour flight passes fast when a scorching hot, single parent is there to entertain you all throughout the day – with his words… as much as with his fingers. 
pairing: dilf / single dad!Taehyung x reader
genre: s2l (?); fluff, smut, some crack?
rating: 18+
warnings: talk about a past divorce & a toxic ex, flirting, teasing, oc’s and my voice kink 😵‍💫, slight age gap, tae’s kid and jimin are the sweetest pair of dorks everrrr; explicit sexual content: (hard) dom!tae, public sex (they do it in the plane restroom), unprotected sex (don’t do it, pls & thank u), handjob, groping, fingering, oral (m. receiving), throat fucking, cum swallowing, rough sex, dirty talk, manhandling, breast play, crying (cos taeconda too good), light choking, slight degrading (he calls her his cumslut grr), mention of some spit, my mirror kink i guess, aftercare (or as much as possible in a plane); literally, tae keeps smirking cockily... that ass, like 1 sweater weather reference, pls spot <3
word count: 8.5k
a/n: i needed to write this to get the idea out of my system, i’m sorry for all the content that’s still coming this week LMAO; thank @kimtaehyunq​​​​ along with single-dad-tae-anon for encouraging me, and again, maggie, CANNOT THANK U ENOUGH FOR THIS HAWT BANNER !!! another thank u to @jimilter​​​​ for hyping me up and making this brainfart SO much better, it was a mess honestly; ily guys T_T hope u guys enjoy !!
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You thoroughly dislike flying alone.
The fact that you won’t be able to set foot onto firm cement for the next eleven hours irks you. If you were in someone’s pleasant company, you’d probably stare at the line in front of you less grimly. The tempo in which the staff here operates does nothing to ease your mind, either.
That’s why airports are your least favourite place in the world; yes, you get to travel the world, but at what damn cost? At the cost of going through the infinitely long boarding process, just to sit in a vehicle that might or might not serve cold food and offer horrible movies?
Science needs to take it up a notch. You want teleportation to be a thing already.
You shove the handbag lying to your feet forward by a few inches when the human snake moves in front of you, crossing your arms in front of your chest with a sigh. Maybe you would dwell a little more on how miserable the situation feels, a little more on how much you wish to fast forward by eleven hours to fall on your own bed again.
But instead, your mind shifts elsewhere. From afar, you see the small steps of a little boy holding something in his grip first. His free hand clutches the bigger one of his father, and he looks at you for only a moment before his gaze shifts to his gameboy again. They still produce these things?
You smile a little as you look at his tiny baby cheeks and his jutted lip, his red, open shirt hanging off from one shoulder with its sleeves rolled up. You stare up to the father to shoot him the classic, basic grin that one usually does – the one that lets a parent silently know that, hey, your kid is the sweetest being I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
But when you meet the man’s gaze, you feel your throat constrict in a way that diving underwater usually does. You prepared yourself to find friendly, smiling eyes looking back at you, but instead, his stare seems piercing, almost like a warning. Like he’s about to punish you for a monumental, national crime that you committed on this warm, sunny Friday morning.
When you hear the busy ruffling of handbags and quiet conversations of the passengers in front of you again, you move forward instinctively, still lost in what just shook your insides with a single gape. But when things need to go wrong the least, they most certainly do go wrong, as fast as they can too; and not expecting any less from your awkward personality, you’re not surprised when your knees buckle and you almost trip, catching yourself by pressing your hands against the bag right on time.
You’re not sure how much of your awkwardness the guy with the deadly stare has noticed when you register his presence right behind you, joining the line. Luckily, he seems to be engaged in a conversation already, addressing the man accompanying him that you didn’t even properly see when the menacing gaze of the child’s father captured you in its trap.
“The line isn’t as long as I thought it’d be,” the second man chimes, his voice soft and lovely, the exact opposite of his friend’s eyes, “we’ll be in the plane in a matter of minutes.”
You smirk; you want to turn around and scoff, let him know that his enthusiasm and optimism are great and nice, but that even he will go insane within a few minutes. The other guy seems to know, though.
“Buckle up. I think we’ll be standing here for some time.”
You’re stunned and mesmerised – not only do you want the ground to swallow you whole, now the wish to drown in his baritone voice grows steadily inside you as well. An anchor or lifebuoy won’t keep you afloat anymore, because seemingly, his vocal chords allow him to go deeper than the Mariana Trench. And you’re trapped in the darkness without being able to turn around and look at him.
You don’t even understand what they’re talking about anymore when you hear them converse – too lost in the tone of his voice, listening to it like a poet calculates poetic metres. With the new, welcomed distraction, time suddenly starts running again, the line beginning to proceed.
And when you suddenly find yourself presenting your documents and your passport at the desk, you let out a relieved sigh, trying to put some distance between him and you as you sprint to the gates and to the small bridge that leads to the inside of the plane.
With concentration carved between your eyebrows, your eyes dart from your ticket to the numbers written over the seats, trying to find your assigned spot with your mouth agape. Even inside, people seem to operate in slow-motion, trying to tame their children or stuffing a never ending amount of handbags into the luggage trunks above their heads.
“Excuse me,” you say timidly, trying to pass an older, struggling man by when you catch sight of your window seat. With a hasty, impatient motion, you place your bag in the trunk before you take a seat with an exasperated sigh, throwing your head back against the headrest with closed eyes.
Your mind begins to drift after you have fastened your seatbelt and prepared for the takeoff, voices shutting down and becoming distant, background noise – except for one. The baritone from earlier suddenly falls onto the seat next to you, your eyes shooting open in shock, entirely stupefied when he exclaims, “Sit down, Jae, we’ll figure it out later.”
You hope the universe is playing some kind of prank on you, and that within a minute, this man will realise that he was holding his ticket upside down or reading a number wrong, or something. But to your misery, he stays seated, talking to his son softly as he tries to calm down the whining boy’s annoyed demeanor.
“I wanted to shit next to Uncle Jimin,” the boy says, shifting in his seat with pouting, heart shaped lips. “Wh– why is he there?”
“Sit, little guy, say sit.”
You laugh in the same moment that he does, giggling about the pronunciation mistake his son called out loud enough for two rows behind and in front of you to hear. Most people look into his direction, shake their heads and turn around with a fond smile again, and you can’t help but find your focus fixate on his brattiness as well.
“Listen, Uncle Jimin is right behind you,” his father assures calmly, pointing his thumb at the man peeking from the side, “and you can go to him when we’re flying, okay? Stay here now.” He turns to his friend, bringing his face closer and saying something loud enough for you to hear, “If the person next to you doesn’t show up and leaves the seat empty, take him later, yeah?”
Jimin answers something that you don’t register well acoustically, instead looking at the boy who’s staring back at you, too. His angry ogling calms a little when you smile with your lips pressed together and wave a bit, his big eyes widening further in his small face before his father leans back and blocks the sight again.
Differently from when you waited for boarding, the man does address your attention this time, merely nodding at you kindly without uttering a single word. He doesn’t ask you to change your seat with Jimin’s; something you’re somewhat thankful for. You don’t think you could handle hearing his deep voice talk to you specifically without fainting.
When he averts his gaze, you look at him for a moment longer. He doesn’t look like he could speak in a voice like this at all – it strongly adds to the intimidating nature he exudes. That is, until he speaks to his son again. Because when he does just that, his lips don’t drop anymore but reach his eyes instead, crinkles around them giving him an everlasting young appearance as he boops his son’s nose caringly, sweetly.
You’re not sure if it’s him melting or you.
And when he notices your stare fixed on his interaction with his flesh and blood yet again, he clears his throat, hopefully not detecting the way you grow all flustered as he says, “He’s really excited.” He nods towards the little bundle that has now turned from complaints into joy, and then adds, “Flying just for the second time.”
You nod in understanding slowly, trying to gather courage and your voice before you answer in a steady tone, “Came here for a visit?”
“Came here for a vacation,” he answers as his sharp cheekbones turn to soft buns. A big, pretty hand with long fingers comes up all of a sudden, and you find yourself admiring it for a moment too long before you take it into your palm and he says, “My name is Taehyung.”
“What brought you here, Y/N?” he asks, leaning back and giving you a smile that looks genuine; like he actually wants to know about you.
“I spent a few months here,” you explain to him, shifting in your seat, “a semester abroad.”
His lips form an O, his head nodding along with your words before he asks, “Oh, a college student?”
You sigh, breathing out a shaky laugh that you hope he doesn’t interpret as your apparent nervousness too much. “Yeah. And a slow one, too, so there’s not much to admire about me being in college, really.”
“Is that why you’re going back?”
You hum, pressing your lips together as you think his question and your following answer through. Is it because of that? Yes, in some way it might be – but then again, the story goes back a little further; and while you’re not one to open up to a stranger this fast, something about his soft smile tells you that he’d understand. Nod and encourage you, maybe even tell you you’re doing the right thing by leaving.
“Well, that’s one reason,” you start, shrugging one shoulder, “being in a new country and taking a course in a new class that discusses philosophers can go wrong pretty fast. Especially when you’re the new one who no one knows anything about, and in a setting like this… you’re just bound to feel like an outcast.”
He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in slight annoyance before he says, “This whole concept of letting someone feel unwelcome is so… hard to grasp for me. Really shouldn’t happen, especially with someone as nice as you.”
You want to reply, but the clump in your throat takes your ability of human speech; but instead, Taehyung speaks up again, much to your pleasure and relief, “I’m so scared of when Jae starts school, too. My son, I mean. Kids are scary.”
“They are. I don’t know, I’ve always found it hard to interact with strangers for some reason.”
He tilts his head, flashing you a boxy grin like you’ve never seen on anyone in your life before, stunning and freezing you for a second too long. To add to your distress, he cocks an eyebrow, telling you casually, “We’re strangers, but you’re making conversation with me just fine.”
You let out a flustered laugh, blinking a few times as you avert your gaze and continue in your good, old, awkward Y/N-fashion, “In all honesty, I’m glad I left. The people and retail prices made me sick, and there weren’t any fun or cute guys either. The one who was dumped me because, quote, I approached him too late.”
“Approached him too late?” Taehyung inquires, pulling his eyebrows together as you nod, rolling your eyes.
“Girlfriend. He meant he had a girlfriend. The occurrence with that guy made me promise myself that I won’t ever hold back from talking to a man again who I’m intrigued by.”
He sees the meaning behind your words as soon as you’ve let them loose; out into the open and floating suggestively between you. You’re not exactly trying to hide what he evokes in your mind and stomach, and when he leans closer, wetting his full lower lip, you feel your brain short circuit, his smooth voice asking, “Do I intrigue you?”
Too much – too close. You can’t think or function like this; if you were a humanoid, you might, but to your chagrin, you’re too painfully human and prone to falling into the eyes of someone as sexy as Taehyung… it’s truly not your fault.
You’ve barely known him a few minutes, and yet he eye-fucks you in the most alluring way possible, some strange kind of desire burgeoning inside you at the sight of his beautifully, ridiculously handsome features as you tug at the hem of your shorts nervously.
He keeps staring at you; most likely testing your reaction with this shit-eating grin that he probably knows burns every woman’s heart to ashes. But then, you both flinch, his son – Jae – squirming in his seat and his short legs bouncing as he rowdily announces, “I’m going to Uncle Jimin!”
Taehyung refocuses his eyes immediately, suddenly hyper aware of his son’s presence before he turns around and places a hand on the small tummy. “Stay here,” he commands, pointing a finger at him in warning, “I’m serious.”
Jae pouts in the classic children-like way, arms folding in front of his chest and drawing Taehyung’s attention to him fully. You’re happy for the slight distraction, taking much needed, deep breaths that – as you later realise – not even the takeoff can make you draw.
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You’re not sure when exactly your mind drifts off and into dreamland, but you do realise that you’re waking up when you hear Taehyung and Jimin’s voices converse quietly. Astounded by the timing your disoriented body chose to shake you awake, you listen closely when you decode that they’re talking about you – undoubtedly.
“Didn’t you want to ask her to switch seats?” Jimin says, and you gulp down the knot of guilt as you remain quiet, unmoving.
“Not anymore,” is what Taehyung, however, responds, followed by a sigh that unquestionably belongs to Jimin, “shut up and lean back. Watch a movie or something.”
“You’ve known her for three hours and me for fifteen years, man.”
You want to chuckle at the whiny yet amused tone of the man sitting behind you, and you’re close to officially waking up and offering to switch yourself before Taehyung says, “She’s cute, though. What kind of a friend would you be, if you didn’t play wingman for me?”
You realised in the hours you stayed awake that you pleased Taehyung in some way or another. He seems to like the way you talk and joke, fascinated by what you have to tell and philosophise about; a tender soul ready to talk about anything and everything. You considered that your personality might be refreshing for him – after all, he told you just that, too.
But you didn’t know he’d fight for you to stay at your spot like this, and it creates a warm, pleasant feeling in your chest that you perceive as entirely new; riveting even.
“Asshole,” Jimin whispers, clicking his tongue before you hear shifting and his voice drift further away, “I’m gonna remember this, Kim.”
You pretend to wiggle in your sleep, pulling your legs closer to you and moving your head to the window before you smile a little, insides fluttering and letting your aversion for flights fade slowly, little by little.
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The second time you wake up, you do so to the busy sounds of passengers and a light shake of your body. Seemingly, you’ve landed, and when you hear Taehyung’s soft voice inform you of this much, you groan, stretching your tense legs once before you stand to prepare yourself for the stop.
You know that you’ll be staying at this airport for three hours, probably scavenging for food and giving your body some movement before you enter the second flight of the day.
But to your surprise, Taehyung and Jimin don’t leave your side, instead encouraging you to accompany them to the nearest Burger King where you introduce yourself to Jimin officially. You soon see the pattern that builds the base of their friendship, and while Jimin seems the exact opposite of Taehyung – loud, dramatic, bratty – they seem to fit like a key to its lock.
In the beginning, you barely say anything, instead listening to their banter until you reach the restaurant and stand in front of the display, waiting for them to place their orders before you can do the same. Taehyung’s laughing about a joke Jimin told Jae when he turns around to you, smiling brightly as he asks, “And for you?”
His finger ghosts over the screen, all orders already showing up at the bottom in an organised row as you blink dumbfoundedly. “Huh?”
“What are you going to eat?” he asks, stepping aside a little so you can take a look at the menu. “It’s on me.”
“Oh, no. Uh-uh, go ahead and pay for your meal.”
You try to pull him back, your hand gesturing to finish the process and your feet ready to carry you to another screen behind him. But with a firm grip settling around your wrist, he drags you back, cocking an eyebrow and stating with a shaking head, “Take the offer. Don’t act like it’s a big deal, c’mon.”
You are feisty and ready to fight, trying to explain to him why you don’t want to let a stranger pay for your lunch; but Taehyung couldn’t care less. With arguments here and annoyed guests waiting there, you finally give in, grumbling in the cutest way Taehyung has ever seen before you find a table at the back of the crowded restaurant.
Eating in peace isn’t an option with two energic best friends and an even more enthusiastic five-year-old. Little arguments of who should feed Jae his fries soon morph to a fit of giggles, and you can’t help but admire the sweet sound that topples off Taehyung’s tongue whenever he throws his head back and laughs about the entertaining situation escalating quickly.
“Y/N’s probably thinking we dragged her into a group of lunatics,” he says when you’ve finished your burger, wiping the remnants of the sauce from the corner of your lips. Your eyes blow wide in confusion at his words. “I assure you, we’re worse on other days. So this is still harmless.”
“I don’t think that’s very helpful,” Jimin claims, eyebrows furrowed in what looks like cute, genuine worry. Then, he turns to you, holding out a palm in reassurance as he adds, “I mean, he’s right, but please don’t desert us just yet.”
You laugh, covering your mouth as you chew the last two pieces of the remaining fries. “Honestly, I can’t imagine spending almost twelve hours with anyone else.” You look at your empty tray, the spiciness and juiciness of the burger settling as your tongue begins to crave something else.
“Come, Jae,” you say, standing and stretching your hand towards him that he takes eagerly, still so excited to meet someone new; someone who gives him any genuine kind of attention. “We’ll get something sweet. With my money this time. And I’m bringing you two a sundae, too.”
You know the men are close to protesting, but before they can speak up, you encourage Jae in hushed whispers, sprinting away with him in small steps that he appreciates with high, elevated giggles. When you reach the display again, he’s still running on the spot, tugging at your arm as he says, “What are we getting?”
“You decide,” you answer, letting his hand go to lift his body, easing him into the process of scrolling through the desserts. “Is there anything you want?”
For a moment, he keeps looking, small chubby fingers working at the touch screen messily until they halt and he points to what, frankly, you would’ve chosen as a full adult, too. “This, please?”
“Is that really what you want?” you ask, raising an eyebrow teasingly as you watch him grow uncertain just a little.
He places a finger in his mouth, looking at you with a cautious gaze as he says, “Yeah…”
“Do we buy your dad an apple as a dessert?”
“No,” he responds, head shaking and another sweet laughter erupting out of him. “Ice cream for Dad. And apple for Uncle Jimin.”
With an amused laugh, you let him onto the ground again, ordering three sundaes and one hot brownie with ice cream on top that gets delivered to you within two brief minutes. You gathered that Jae with his dangling, swaying legs and satisfied hums would enjoy the sweet dish served to him; but you didn’t expect Taehyung and Jimin to feast on their ice cream this eagerly, obviously having a sweet tooth just like you.
Time passes fast when you enjoy your company – especially when it’s at a foreign airport in an entirely foreign country. You wonder how you would’ve killed the minutes and hours if they weren't here by your side, shopping in chocolate and wine shops and entertaining you enough to let the three hours feel like thirty minutes.
When you finally find yourself stepping into the second plane, listening to Jae’s jokes that he caught from friends in kindergarten, you hear the ongoing conversation between the men just subtly. Subtly, and yet enough to register that Taehyung has grown fond of you within hours the same way you have learned to like him as well.
“Oh, hey, look,” Jimin says, pointing at his ticket and then at the seat, “they got the seats right this time. I’m right next to you. And the whole row behind us seems free.”
But Taehyung hesitates, turns around to shoot you a careful look that you don’t reciprocate, looking at Jae to busy yourself before Taehyung catches your stare yet again. And then, he faces Jimin again, stepping closer as you hear him speak, “No, Y/N’s seat is behind us. Can you…” Jimin parts his full lips, confusion written in his eyes. “Let her sit next to me? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
Something in you almost reckons he’s doing this on purpose – talking loud enough for you to hear, in hopes you might catch his interest and act upon it. And perhaps you should; perhaps you’ve let him look at you the way he does for long enough. At least your body agrees, considering the way your heart’s tingling and stomach twisting; legs wobbling and your pu–
“Is it okay for you if you sit here again?” Taehyung asks when their conversation dies and Jae’s attention shifts elsewhere. “Jimin doesn’t like the window seat. Says it makes him nauseous.”
You flash him your prettiest smile with a tilt of your head, tucking back a few loose strands of your hair that you hope have the same effect on him as his lips and eyes have on you. At least the slight sigh that he lets out seems promising, but you don’t want to dwell on it too long, making your way past him instead and settling in the same setting as before.
The process of getting used to your seat happens easier now than before – maybe it’s because of the conversation with Taehyung that happens so smoothly now, and maybe it’s the jokes that you hear here and there coming from where Jimin fools around with Jae.
“He really does love Jimin, doesn’t he?” you ask, laughing when you see the mentioned man pout at the little guy in faux offence.
“I think he loves him more than he loves me.”
You take a sip of your served tea with a bright smile, enjoying the relationship between your three travel companions before a sudden thought strikes you. You’re not sure if you’re in the position to ask, but you try to tip-toe into the conversation anyway, querying, “Why are you… a single parent, Taehyung?”
For a moment, you think his body will stiffen and show clearly that this is a topic he doesn’t want to address. But to your surprise, he stays calm, collected, nodding a little as he explains, “She left me. Said she’s too young to be a mother and deal with the stress that comes with it.”
“So she left you alone with double the amount of it?” you ask, shocked and surprised, disgust filling you as you let his words sink in.
“Yeah. She didn’t seem to care much,” he says, his voice still neutral and his shoulders shrugging. “She wanted to live her life a bit more. Do some crazy stuff and all. We fought a lot about it all, and when she felt like I was pressuring her into being a mom too much, she bid her goodbyes and left home. She didn’t want her kid or husband to stop her.”
Empathy floods you when you hear his voice drop, something in his voice clearly regretting past decisions but hiding it behind his smile. “I’m so sorry this happened. It must’ve been hard on you both. Especially the whole divorce process...”
“More so on Jae than on me,” he declares, looking over his shoulder and at the sleeping figure of his son. You follow his gaze, endeared by the way Jimin’s arm engulfs the small body in his embrace. “I stopped loving her long ago. But it’s… hard to explain to a child why his mother left before he could even speak, you know?”
Your stomach drops a little when you imagine Jae’s big eyes glancing up at his father, listening carefully and barely questioning what’s happening around him until he grows old enough. It’s admirable that Taehyung has managed to raise him all by himself – a happy and sweet personality, joking around despite the hardships he’s undoubtedly had to endure.
“She was difficult to deal with,” he continues, shrugging his shoulders as he inches closer to you. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. Looking from your eyes to your lips and back, shoulders almost touching. “Always got jealous when I merely talked to my female co-workers. Scolded me for little things, too.”
He nudges your shoulder with his before he raises one eyebrow suggestively. His voice becomes quieter, his tone laced with something indescribable as he states, “And if I was still with her, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.”
Taehyung’s habit of constantly smirking at you and undressing you with his eyes has been pushing you to the edge for hours now, and you’re sure that you’ll fall into depths if he keeps his attitude up any longer. Depths that are surely deeper and bigger than the distance between the plane and the ground.
As his tongue darts out to wet his lips, you sigh, a small involuntary moan escaping you that he seems to hear clearly – the way his eyebrows twitch for only a moment indicates this much. He laughs lightly, watching your flustered, nervous state as he asks, “What’s wrong? Did I scare you?”
You want to answer yes instinctively, ask him what he does to women who fear his smile; but then, you refrain, realising that you are, in fact, not exactly scared of him in any way. You just want him – want him thoroughly.
“No,” you say, feeling heat creep into your face as you collect the words on your tongue and blurt, “I’m just… intimidated.”
“Why?” comes the instant answer, accompanied by a gloomy yet seductive chuckle.
You shrug your shoulders, your left one barely moving as you notice the way he’s crowded you against the window, your form pressed against the wall behind you. With a fast beating heart, you start, “I think I’m just not used to a stranger like you talking to me like that.”
“Like what?” he retorts, pulling up the armrest between you. “Like a funny and stunning woman like you deserves to be talked to?”
Your insides turn in anticipation, and by now you reckon that you should be allowed to be just as brave with him as he acts with you. Nothing’s holding you back – least of all his gaze and words, inhabiting a subtle whisper and tempting moan at the end of each sentence.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he argues, acting like you can’t see that he wants to kiss you right here, right now. He might be a stranger, but you’re neither blind nor inexperienced when it comes to longing and lust written in stares.
“I’m talking about…” You pause for a second, your body flooding with sudden courage when you put your palm on his crossed leg. You wait; observe his reaction, trying to find any hint of hesitation or discomfort. But he doesn’t flinch a bit, lets you shift your palm further up his thigh.
His blanket covers his lap like yours lays on your legs, and slowly, carefully, you reach under the cloth and between his limbs. You admire the way his body stays still, not a single twitch of his fingers showing the inner tumult that you see in his dark gaze immediately. He can fool every passenger around him, but not you.
You’re not surprised in the slightest when your hand palms the heaviest and thickest cock you’ve ever touched; but that doesn’t anyhow suggest that you’re affected any less. Under your touch, you feel the bulge harden, growing fast but steadily until you feel it twitch not once but twice.
“... this,” you finally end your sentence, shooting the shiest smile at him – soft blinking, big eyes, an innocent tilting of your head; the whole package. “You’re aiming for that, aren’t you?”
“So gutsy all of a sudden?” he hisses, teeth gritting and chest heaving before he slides his own hand under your warm blanket.
You feel goosebumps erupt on your skin before he’s even touched you; but when his fingers brush your bare legs and slide up to your shorts, you consider yourself close to losing your mind in a goddamn economy class seat.
Swiftly, his hand wanders under your shorts and to your ass, the position surely not comfortable for the muscles in his arms, but he doesn’t seem to give it much of a thought. He doesn’t do much – in truth, he can’t do much anyway; and yet, the squeeze of your ass sets your chest on fire. And when he closes in, you feel your sanity slip, his outrageously sexy voice asking, “What am I gonna do with you?”
He’s rock hard when you suddenly pull your hand back from where you’re massaging his dick, still asking yourself how his ex ever had the guts to leave him… him. He catches a deep breath as his eyes grow a shade of black darker, mimicking your action when his hand leaves your ass and his fingernails draw a thin line along your inner thigh.
No doubt that giving him a clothed handjob in the middle of a crowd and then pulling back has left him irritated, and he doesn’t hesitate to show you when he inquires, “Your eyes were begging me to fuck you all day. And now they’re asking me to make you cry, too, hm?”
It should be illegal to voice a concern such as the one uttered just now in a sweet and harmless tone like this. It’s baffling to you – the way his personality keeps shifting; the way his words sometimes don’t seem to fit his voice; the way you want to fuck him so bad and hear him growl and grunt filthy orders instead of holding back because of all the guests of the airline around you.
Your breathing stagnates, and a satisfying grin graces his face, his body leaning back. You think for a moment, trying to concentrate on forming the closest possibility as a full sentence before you finally spit, “Taehyung… Are you in the Mile High Club?”
With a content smirk – that fucking smirk – he shakes his head slowly, asking, “No. Why?”
Asshole. He knows exactly why. He just wants you to say it – and you’re not giving him any kind of satisfaction until he’s buried balls deep inside you.
You let your legs drop, pushing away the blanket and yourself off the seat as you inform him, “I’m going to the bathroom.” And you deliberately make sure that you pass him very closely, bending just enough that your pretty ass practically presses into his gorgeous, handsome face.
Passing by half of the sleeping passengers in a blur with a shit-eating grin plastered on your features, you hurry to the cabinet, closing the door hastily as you inhale deeply. You look into the mirror above the small sink, whispering small “oh god”s to yourself when you realise how fucked out your eyes look.
No wonder he saw your wish written clearly in them right away.
Only seconds later, you hear a few firm knocks at the door, your heart accelerating and pussy leaking when his voice tells you, “It’s me.”
You check yourself in the mirror again, tucking your hair behind your ears before you take another deep breath and open carefully. “Did someone see you co-” you start, but soon realise that Taehyung isn’t in the mood to talk around much, but get straight to what he wants. 
The hair you just fixed flies into your face again when he locks the door and presses you against the wall with a semi-hard thump. A hand settling on your neck, he responds, “Who cares?”
He pushes your head up, forcing you to look into his eyes and let his warm breath graze your cheek as he continues in a warningly dangerous tone, “Do you like to blueball your men like that?”
Still not giving in to his stare, you let the adrenaline flow through you, playing the provoking brat as you ask, “So what? You weren’t gonna come on a plane seat.”
“You know what,” he sibilates, sandwiching you further between the thin wall and his body, “you’re fucking right. Gonna come in your mouth instead, what do you think, kitten?”
And then, he presses his wet, hot tongue and plush lips against your neck, holding you in place while his fingers rid you of your shorts impatiently. He’s in a hurry; you see and feel it clearly, but you understand it, too – it’s not exactly like you can occupy the restroom for too long.
Again, you palm his cock and open his belt, pulling down his upsetting pants and underwear to his calves before his length springs out. An angry red and leaking tip awaits you, twitching as it did outside, when he brings his long fingers to your cunt and feels the pooling wetness he’s caused.
“God fucking damn, wish we were in a hotel room,” he comments, bringing his fingers to his mouth to cover them in blobs of his spit. Without any hesitation between you, his digits find their home in and around your pussy again, wetting your sex thoroughly before he starts fingering you in earnest.
You gasp and moan when you feel his endless fingers split your tightness open, reaching knuckles-deep before he starts scissoring and twisting them inside you. With your nails digging into his shoulders, you hold onto him, staring at his parted lips with heavy breaths as he adds, “I would edge you all night. Watch this pretty and unnecessary make-up of yours run down your cheeks, fuck…”
The hand placed around your neck loosens before he brings it to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up along with your bra until your tits bounce freely; fully on display for him to admire. He shivers at the sight – literally shivers as one or two of his dark locks fall into his forehead as he cups your mound.
Your hand wraps around his thick cock, his breathing stopping for a moment – in reality, you want to drop to your knees, bruise them and feel your muscles stiffen. The urge to blow him until he whines grows incessantly, eliciting new and more intense reactions out of him. You want to hear him call you by your name, go crazy under the touch of your lips until he plows his load down your throat.
But when you try to fall, he holds you upright, very clearly following his own mischievous plans.
For the moment, you keep pumping his enticing, mind-blowing cock, collecting the precum on your palm and spreading it along his length. He lets out a quiet, deep groan that reaches the pit of your stomach deeply, and combined with the way his fingers fuck into you with lewd, squelching sounds, you deem his existence as ultimately lethal.
His head drops as his lips meet your nipples, his tongue circling them lightly before he starts sucking on your tits like he’s a man starved. Which, after hours of lusting for you, he actually might be.
“Fuck... your tits,” he breathes against your flesh, pulling at your nipple lightly and admiring the bouncing that releasing it causes, “you’re insanely hot, what the fuck…”
And then, he’s seemingly had enough, his soaked fingers leaving your cunt suddenly before his strong arms pick you up and make you straddle him with a grunt. With the way you’re pressed against the wall and his chest against yours, his hands roam free, one of them reaching down to lead his member to your heat.
Circling your clit with his tip, you feel your sanity slip, his eyes watching your reactions intently as he declares, “I’m barely doing anything. What’s wrong, huh?”
Your pussy clenches around nothing and pulsates at his touch, arousal dripping down onto his length as you suppress your mewls by biting your lip. Brushing your ego aside, you beg like he probably wants you to, salaciously moaning, “Fuck me, Taehyung. Please, I-”
“My pleasure,” he interrupts, slamming his cock into you in one sudden, smooth motion. Pleased and stunned by the way you suck him in so swiftly, he relishes in the way you let loose, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you breathe out a long sigh.
Without easing you into the thick, big sensation that his dick is, he starts hammering into you hard; so fucking hard that you need to hold onto him tightly to keep your balance. You have a strong clasp on him, your nails digging into his shirt and skin – but he doesn’t mind at all; is ready to let you paint his body in scars and fervid memories.
You love the way his cock ruins your insides rigorously, hips rolling and thrusting into you from below like he’s a beast that crawled out from the hottest pit of hell. The oh-so-sweet guy with impeccable manners who cooed at his son is long gone, his dominant nature on full display as he digs his nails into your ass and pulls it apart, surprisingly reaching even deeper into you.
“Just look at you,” he purrs, kissing your jaw softly, “so needy and hungry for cock. You suck me in like your pussy’s just made… for me–”
And when you moan a little too loudly, he stills for a second, his drilling coming to a halt before he pulls out of you in a sudden motion. The control he has over you amplifies when he lets you down and twirls you around, making you both stand in a way that you face the sink and the mirror while he towers behind you.
His large palm pushes you down, your hands gripping the edges of the sink instinctively as you feel him slide in again, slower this time. You gulp down the knot in your throat, preparing yourself for another round of meticulous fucking when you suddenly hear a knock at the door of the restroom.
You still all sound and movement, looking over your shoulder to the demon holding your waist tightly. His stare shifts from you to the door of the congested space, clearing his throat with sweat running down his temples as he says, “I’m sorry. I-”
He pulls back before his hips slam against yours, your lips pressing together and eyebrows furrowing to stay as quiet as your sanity allows. “I ate something wrong,” he finishes, disguising his moans as stomach-ache-induced groans and starting to fuck into you again slowly.
The person outside grunts a little, but after a few seconds, you register the door of the opposite restroom falling shut and the footsteps calm. And then, all inhibitions gone and his cock aching for your pussy the way you long for him, he jackhammers into you again. Rearranges your guts. Hears the heavenly sounds escape your lips until he realises that you need to quiet down in a vehicle like this plane.
“Take it easy, baby. You should shut up if you don’t want people to hear,” he warns as he leans down to your ear, pushing himself deep into you before dragging his sex back teasingly. You know he doesn’t give a shit about the stares that might await you outside – what he doesn’t know is that you’ve long abandoned all care as well, focusing on his sinful ministrations instead.
But you’re a sucker for his power over you – and in that sense, you nod wildly, watching him flash the most evil grin in the mirror and feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.
He brings the hand whose fingers fucked into you to your mouth, covering your lips as he moans into your ears quietly. God, even his whispered and fucked out sounds echo in your mind deeply and hotly; his voice so low, so intriguing.
“Good little girl,” he praises, loving the way you drool onto his hand messily, “taking me incredibly well. Admirable.”
The force with which he’s fucking you has your face drenched in tears by now that run down your cheeks and onto his fingers. He presses them into your skin, your stifled moans causing chaos and storms inside his chest that he has no intent to calm anytime soon. Not until you come and cover his cock in your sweet juices, at least.
“You love this, kitten, don’t you?” he coos, your breathing so heavy you think you might pass out. “You’re my own little cumslut, aren’t you?”
You find yourself incapable of answering, tears spilling as he stops for a moment, dragging his cock out and fucking right back into you harder; slow but deep, sudden thrusts. And then, he whispers, reprimanding, “I asked you a question.”
Nodding like crazy, you sob into his hand before he removes it, letting you talk and hearing you admit, “Yes… your cumslut, yours… please, let me come.”
And so he does. Adhering to your plea, his free hand finds your bundle of nerves, rubbing slowly and pleasantly, exactly what every woman thrives on while being fucked the way you are. He puts his fingers on your tongue and you love the taste feverishly, sucking on the mixture that reminds you of your juices and of the scent of his skin.
More thrusts follow that leave your pussy clenching, and he lets out a shuddering breath when tell-tale moans escape your mouth, indicating your orgasm stronger than you intended to.
“Fuck… fuck, Taehyung,” you whisper, your words contorted by the fingers that still rest on your tongue. But when he notices the way your eyes close in the mirror, nibbling at your earlobe with sweet, tickling sensations, he pulls out again.
Your pussy feels the ache that his sharp and hefty thrusts caused, leaving you wobbly on your legs and buckling before he catches you in his arms. Slowly, however, he lets you fall to your knees anyway, desire written in his expressions and his dark gaze as he brings his slick-soaked cock to your lips.
There’s no doubt about what he wants, and you look up to his clean-cut jaw with big eyes. He can’t believe that someone with a kitten expression like yours was able to take him this well, no complaints or pleas to stop ever being voiced by you.
“Suck,” he orders, watching your mouth fall open obediently right away before he places his member on your stretched tongue. “Gonna come in your mouth. Okay, sweet baby?”
His fingers tangle in your hair and hold your face in place, and when you nod and take him in willingly, he lets out a content sigh as he throws his head back. You let him slide in as much as you can allow yourself to, your tongue following the veins of his cock and twirling around his smooth skin.
But if you thought he would let you do your thing this time, you were wrong – because it doesn’t take more than thirty measly seconds before he starts thrusting in and out of you again roughly. He stifles his groans and moans by capturing his lower lip between his teeth, but the increasingly uncontrolled heaving of his chest is telling enough for you.
And then, he finally lets go, burying his cock deep inside until it hits the back of your throat, and shoots his white, hot cum down for you to swallow instantly. The salty taste barely registers in your mind as you let him fuck your mouth for a few moments longer before he stills entirely.
Drenched and softening, he backs away, his grip around your hair relaxing before he pulls you up. He doesn’t ask, but you show him your empty mouth anyway, and when he whispers a soft, “what an amazing lady, huh?”, you wallow in his praise and lovely words.
He kisses you – kisses you for the first time today as you notice, even though everything is done and over with – and lets your tongue dance with his, his palm softly cradling your cheek and making you reel in disbelief that this man actually fucked your throat sore just a second ago.
When he pulls back, he grabs a few tissues from the paper dispenser, wetting them and wiping the remnants of your make-up tenderly, almost affectionately. He lets you clean up and dress yourself, combs his fingers through your tangled hair with no better option at hand at the moment.
With a sweet, small kiss, he smiles at you, telling you quietly with his hands on your face, “I would draw you a bath and massage you, if we weren’t here right now.” Your heart flutters just a bit more than it should when hearing this from someone you barely know. “You deserve it.”
But you give in anyway – if only for now.
When you look somewhat presentable and put together, you open the door carefully, walking out with slow steps as you observe the passengers’ reactions. Luckily, half of them are asleep and don’t seem to notice any kind of disturbance in the flight at all.
As you drop into your seat, you start feeling increasingly sleepy, too, pulling the blanket over you again as you check your fellow dorks behind you. Apparently, Jimin and Jae are still drifting in dreamland, safe and sound; and soon, Taehyung joins you next to you, looking behind him the same concerned way you did.
He shoots you a grin that seems so much sweeter than his filthy words whispered in the restroom, but with the exhaustion you feel, you let your body flood with endearment and fondness. Glad that he’s not trying to wreck you any further.
The conversation shifts to a mundane topic fast – your studies, life, family and hobbies. And before you know it, you’re falling asleep, too, eyes drooping and your breathing calming steadily as your head falls onto his bicep eventually. While it looks strongly like a basic, cliché romcom from the outside, Taehyung refuses to let your neck hang uncomfortably like this.
Softly, carefully, he lifts your head, placing his travel pillow between his shoulder and your face, and then lets your cheek rest against it snugly. The standard smile that the protagonist flashes, however, finds its way into his features just the same, one side of his lips twitching upward as he feels you hug his arm with your warm hand.
For the first time at a place like this plane, Taehyung wishes time to stand still.
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The airport at your destination is too loud and too crowded, and you are way too tired to function properly. With the timezone varying and light flooding through the glass ceiling, you squint in annoyance, everything around you too bright – but the presence next to you glowing brighter.
“So,” he starts, trying to let his voice reach you over the excited giggling and screeching of Jimin and Jae behind you.
“So,” you repeat almost shyly, holding onto your bag tightly. “So, here we part.”
“Yeah, seems so.” He hesitates; you see in the way his fingers fiddle with his coat draped over his arm that he wants to say something. And you’re sure that if he doesn’t, you will.
You wait a second longer, letting the slight awkwardness between you prolong before he finally utters, “But we don’t really have to, right? We’ll be here. At our own homes. I can– uhm–”
He fishes his phone out of his pocket, fingers tapping on his screen before he hands it to you and asks, “You can give me your number if you’d like?”
“To meet up for barbecues, dinner dates and game nights? Stuff that old parents do.” You laugh, but take his phone from him anyway, typing in your number and handing the device back to him.
“I’m not that much older than you. Still fit and capable of a lot of things,” he says, winking at you and setting your heart and mind ablaze yet again.
The prospect of him knocking at your door excites you to no end – you wonder if you’ll ever be able to take whatever has bloomed between you up a notch when you meet again, eager to see more of his exciting life and intriguing personality.
For now, it seems that you’ll have to part with a content heart, already anticipating the night when you’ll dream of his lips, eyes, voice on your empty bed – waiting for him to join hopefully sooner than you know.
At least for now, he’s graced you with his presence across countries and high above the skies when you least expected it. When you were semi-ready to enter the plane lonely and in boredom. But with him, the flight itself felt like a pleasant journey and trip itself.
With a memory like this, you probably won’t hate flying alone that much anymore.
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HELLO, this guy just... infiltrated my brain again, made me write this thing and... yeah now im gonna dip, bcos he hurts me </3
if u enjoyed it, then: like, reblog, send an ask, CHAT WITH MEEE :D really wanna hear what u guys think and if u liked it, and i love talking to u all !!<33
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chateautae · 8 hours ago
— new fic drop! [♡]
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banner by the talent @jamaisjoons​ <3
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➵ summary : kim taehyung’s life as a painter was the definition of monochromatic. many revered his talents with the likes of a prodigy, even possessing the midas touch. however, taehyung sadly despised anything he ever painted. that was, until, he earned the opportunity to meet you. with a connection too magnetic to deny, not only do you become the most beautiful work of art taehyung has ever painted, but also join him in the steamy art of touch and romance.
➵ pairing : royal painter!taehyung x princess!reader
➵ genre : royalty!au, forbidden romance, period piece, fluff, smut, one shot
➵ rating : 18+
➵ est. word count : 35k
➵ warnings : explicit sexual content, multiple sex scenes, light angst, porn but with plot ;)
↳ in submission for the “Fall for Romance” september games by @bangtansorciere
➵ release date : september 30th, 2021. 
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taglist is now open! please contact me in anyway to be added to the taglist, anyone on my permanent taglist will automatically be added!! :)
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nightowlfandom · a day ago
Rich! Bad Boy!Min Yoongi- Try Me
Just wanna say if you see your name used here, I don’t have beef with you okay? I had a random name generator in another tab and just used the first name I saw.
Once again someone doesn’t want me to be great so....this might be the only post today because I....dunno I can’t post when I’m not in a good mood and its been real shitty.
You were practically glued to his side. His arm was tightly wrapped around your waist as he led you across the room. You had perched your designer sunglasses on top of your head to get a clearer look at your surroundings. Why were you wearing sunglasses at night? Because you could, of course.
Your wore a backless floor length gown in one of his favorite colors. He had insisted you wear your fur coat, but you convinced him to let you leave it in the car. You were on full display, not only for him but for anyone else who thought that they had bought the most gorgeous date for the night. That title was forever and always reserved for Min Yoongi’s girl and tonight only proved it more and more. 
He walked with his held held high as if everyone around him was beneath him. His attired screamed ‘try me, bitch’ From his black suit and tie to crisp white dress shirt and shoes that were worth more than someone’s rent for five months. His hair was slicked back and while he didn’t bother to raise his own pair of shades, everyone could see the glare very evident on his face.
You two were the epitome of a power couple, in the most literal sense and everyone respected that.
“Mr. Min! Welcome!” a nervous and frantic looking man rushed up to you. “This must be your beautiful companion for the night.” he bowed repeatedly. So many times that you lost count. He held his hand out for you to take, but you were left to stare awkwardly. You had no idea what to do in that moment. After a second or two you held your hand out, which he shook a bit too aggressively.
Yoongi calmly used his free hand to raise his sunglasses up. “You gettin’ paid to rip my girl’s arm out its socket?”
“Oh! my apologies Mr. Min!” he instantly let your hand go. “I wasn’t aware.”
“You never are.” he scoffed, allowing his shades sit on the top of his head. “Is our table ready, or did they send you here to waste our time?”
“You’re fashionably early! Your comrades haven’t arrived yet.” the host stammered. “Follow me!” he practically disappeared through the sea of people. 
“What a tool.” you spoke for the first time since you left the car. “I’ve never seen a bigger kiss-ass in my life.”
“Hm, trust me I’ve met worse. He’s just a dick-rider for the men who really own this place.” He leaned down and spoke into your ear. “Those guys will literally shit on someone else’s table if I tell them to.”
“How riveting.” you rolled your eyes playfully as he led you through the crowd. It was easy for people to get out of your way. One look from your boyfriend and they were hugged the nearest wall or throwing themselves against the various tables set up all over the place. “Remind me again why we’re here?”
“Don’t make that face.” He smirked. “I told you, official business.”
“And we couldn’t do that somewhere less...sleazy?” you scoffed at the old man with five different women on his arm. “Yoongi-”
“It’s only for a few hours.” he assured. “Then after that, we can do whatever you want, okay?”
“You said that last time.” you hid the pout forming on your face.
“You have my word.”
“Or so you say.” you slipped out of his grip. “Until you have more trash take out.” you shook your head as you walked ahead. Yoongi watched you from behind as you walked ahead. Of course you didn’t need him by your side to be considered intimidating. He bit his lip at the idea of ripping that dress off your body when you got back to the hotel. Shit, he might not even manage to keep his hands to himself in the car.
Yoongi joined you at the table. “ You feel like Soju tonight?”
“Depends on if you want me to start fighting or not.” you raised an eyebrow at Yoongi.
“Hm, on second thought how about imported beer.”
“This isn’t date night at your place, dear.” you replied jokingly.
“Hm, you’re right. It’s been a while since we’ve splurged. We can do wine tonight!” he chuckled in reply as you both sat down. Just as you both got settled, you were met by a small crowd. Yoongi’s friends, of course. 
“Oi! Watch how you handle my fucking jacket! It’s worth more than your life.” Namjoon snapped at that host.
“My apologies sir!”
“Yoongi, Y/N. Good to see you.” Seokjin shook Yoongi’s hand firmly. “Sorry we’re late.”
“We just arrived ourselves.” you replied, relaxing as Yoongi wrapped his arm around your waist again. “Yoongi insisted.”
“Of course he did.” Jungkook sat down. “I saw the other women glaring at you.” he laughed. “You sure know how to make an entrance.” he raised your hand to his lips for a short kiss to your knuckles.
“Of course she does. She’s the best looking woman here.” he huffed as if it was obvious. The host quietly bought the selection for the night.
“Wine for the lady, the usual for the rest of us.” Yoongi spoke for the table.
“Yes sir!”
Before anyone else could speak, a woman in a red dress and white fur coat strode up. “Yoongi? Is that you?”
“Meredith....fancy seeing you here.” Yoongi looked less than thrilled.
“Very!” she seemed a little too happy to see him. It was funny because you had never seen nor heard of this woman in your life. “So...I tried to call you.”
She was completely oblivious of you sitting right there and you didn’t like it.
“What are you doing here?” Seokjin annoyedly spoke up as his drink was poured. “If you couldn’t tell, we’re all trying to enjoy ourselves.”
“I just wanted to catch up with an old friend!” she put her hands up in defense. Her eyes suddenly landed on you. “Whose this?” she fixed her face in disgust
“Y/N L/N, who the fuck are you?” you raised an eyebrow. Your posture straightened up as she glared at you. You threw your sunglasses on the table, crossing your arms as you perked up.
“Are you Yoongi’s pet or something?” she put a hand on her hip. “ Guess they’ll let anyone in!”
“Pet? Oh Honey...Even if that were true it would still mean I’m sitting here and your standing there looking stupid....”
“Oh yeah. He’s probably waiting for the perfect moment to get rid of you!”
You held up a single hand to up Yoongi to signify that you didn’t want him to speak. He looked livid, however you didn’t see the point in him wasting You slowly stood up. The host held your glass of wine with shaky hands, unsure of what to do.
“Thank you.” you grabbed the glass from him. “Run along now.”
“Yes mam!” the scared host scurried off, obviously not wanting any confrontation. 
“Y/N, what are you doing?” Yoongi asked, watching you with weary eyes. You weren’t confrontational so this was a huge surprise.
“Meredith. That is your name, right?” you smiled sweetly. You took a sip from your glass. “Hm...What a darling coat! I bet it goes with anything.”
“Of course it does! It pairs best with red. I bought it in Paris...” she put a hand on her hip as if she was a model. “As you can see.”
“Too bad beautiful gowns and expensive fur doesn’t make the wearer any less cheap than the next bitch.” you instantly shut down the false sense of security you built for the disrespectful woman. 
“Not done yet....” you cleared your throat before speaking again. “ Whore, Pet, Wife ,Girlfriend, whatever you want to call me, go ahead but best believe my place in Yoongi’s life will always hold rank over you, my dear. You weren’t even important enough for him to tell me about you and we’ve been together for four years going on five as of two months from now.” You put your free hand on your hip. “That’s number one.” you laughed gleefully.
“Damn Yoongi, your girl has guts.” Namjoon whispered.
“That’s my babe.” Yoongi sat back and watched you drag Meredith for filth.
“Number Two! Before you try to feed me shit and call it sugar, make sure you take off the tags on your clothes.” You pointed to the obvious department store tag. “Clearance...nice. I also know fake diamonds when I see them, don’t play yourself.”
Nothing was wrong with fake gems, or clearance items...but pretending you were better than everyone else while lying...that wasn’t gonna go down.
The girl had went completely quiet now.
“Three. Last but not least. Get over this whole convoluted ‘I’m better than you’ ideals you follow because the same people you turn your nose up at are the same people who you rely on on a day to day basis. Shiny hair, expensive clothes, and a posse of fake friends who tell you everything you want to hear does not guarantee happiness. Insulting me because it gives you short lived joy does not guarantee happiness. Pretending you actually have any sense of class when it’s obvious you faked your way to the top of social stardom does not guarantee happiness.” you put your wine glass on the table. “So before I proceed to tell you to go fuck yourself and to stay away from me and my BOYFRIEND...any questions?”
Not even five seconds passed and this woman walked off without another word. You didn’t feel bad, not by a long shot. Respect is something that’s earned any ANYONE who didn’t understand that could get a piece of you.
You sat back down next to Yoongi, grabbing your wine again. “Gentlemen, forgive me for that outburst.”
“Damn babe.” Yoongi wrapped his arm around you again. “That was hot.”
“Good because I’m highly fucking livid right now.” you calmly took a sip of your wine. “Who was that woman?” you turned to glare at Yoongi.
“She was an actress who was paid to portray my wife for a business thing I was forced to do.” he shook his head. “Y/N I promise she means nothing to me. It was before we even met.”
“Good. Let another girl talk crazy to me, I’ll kill you both.” you said with a straight face. “Her for thinking she can talk to me any way she wants, and you for keeping things from me. I will cut you deep, sir.”
“Damn I love you.” he bit his lip. He turned your head towards himself to give you a deep kiss. 
As he had promised, he could barely keep his hands off you in the car. The minute the doors had shut, Yoongi had the hem of your dress bunched up in his fist. His lips feverishly laid open mouth kisses along your exposed neck. 
“Yoongi, we shouldn’t do this here.” you whimpered, even though your actions said the completely opposite.
“Why? No one is gonna stop me. They damn sure won’t say shit about it.” Yoongi stopped for a split second to turn a glare to the limo driver, who was trying very hard not to look in the rear view mirror. “PUT THE FUCKING DIVIDER UP.” he barked.
“Yes sir!!”
Yoongi pushed you down onto the seats, causing you to let out a laugh. The divider was put up and you could hear the sound of fabric ripping.
He had tore a rip up your dress.
“Goodbye $3,000 dress.” you huffed.
“More where that came from.” he laughed, which was quickly replaced with a sadistic smile. “Spread your legs, baby.” he pouted. “Daddy wants to finger you”
“In the
 “When we get back to the hotel, I want you naked on that bed.” he growled. “If not, I’ll fucking rip whatever you have left off.”
... (The Hotel)
He couldn’t even keep his hands to himself in the elevator, any part of you he could get his hands on, he touched. By the time you two had gotten back to the room, you were thrown on the bed. Your dress had hear a huge tear up the leg and the straps were holding up either. Yoongi had discarded every article of clothing except his pants which were hanging low on his hips at this point.
“How do you want me?” he flicked his tongue against his bottom lip, looking you up and down. “I’ll do whatever you want, babe.” He watched as your shy wall was quickly put up and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Baby doesn’t know?”
“Nuh uh.” you hid behind your hands with a shy smile.
“ hands?”
“hm....nuh uh.” you shook your head again.
“ mouth then?” he bit his lips, standing right in front of you. “Where was that fire, honey? Come on.” he grabbed your hands. “Want me to eat that pretty pussy, baby?” He gathered the rest of your dress in his fist. “Come here.”
He began kissing up your bare thighs. You shook your legs, biting your lip. You felt him pull your panties down.
“You were so brave for me, sexy girl. Where’s that fighting spirit? Do you want me to eat this sweet little- hmm.” he dragged his tongue up your slit, laying opened mouthed kisses along your pussy. “You’re brave for the outside world but you still need daddy to take care of you, huh?”
“Mhm!” you nodded desperately.
“Baby you taste so fucking good.” he laughed, lashing his tongue against your hot flesh. “You’re moving so much.” he cackled. “Hmm” he dug his nails into your thighs. “You like it when I eat this pussy?” 
“This is mine.” mumbled against your heat. “This is all mine. Don’t think I’m done with you yet...”
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gukkguts · a day ago
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daddy? sorry daddy? s-sorry daddy? i mean daddy? sorry daddy?
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shayminssi · 15 hours ago
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Someone make a CEO dilf!Taehyung x milf wife!reader fanfic IMMEDIATELY.
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raggaraddy · 22 hours ago
The Devil's Pet
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4: When hell freezes over
Master Taehyung x reader. Submissive Jimin.
Summary: You're determined to fight him as much as possible. You meant it when you said you were going to make him regret ever meeting you. It's just, your plan doesn't seem to be going too well.
Trigger warning: Yandere themes, smut, restraints, ambiguous torture.
Chapter list
Previous chapter Next chapter- ASAP
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On second thought, it seems you might not be as cold-resistant as you imagined. It turns out clothing plays a major part when trying to survive in cold conditions. And thinking back to those nights in your youth where you slept on the streets, you did have fairly thick clothes on, and strategically placed sheets of metal around as a windbreaker cubby. And that tin can fire you made was perfect for stopping your fingers and toes from turning numb, blue and then falling off.
But here, there's nothing. You're completely naked, completely isolated and exposed, and you're laying on tiles that are just getting colder and more fridgid by the second.
Through the windowed wall, the dim moonlight is giving you a view of an analog clock hanging by the bedroom door. One that is painstakingly keeping you informed of every single minute that passes.
It's 7:22 am. That is over 10 hours that you have been convulsing in harsh polar conditions.
Huge blusters of wind keep storming into the room. All the previous heat has been sucked out, and replaced by freezing air that is so sharp it's hurting to inhale. For a brief while you attempted to maintain a steady body temperature by doing push-ups, sit-ups and every other kind of exercise that you can manage with the limited space this chain is giving you. But after 45 minutes you were exhausted, and only making yourself sweat, which seemed to just make the biting gales even more vicious.
Through the night you have been so desperate to sleep. To close your eyes and open them on the other side of this. Each time you begin to drift though, the snapping icicle feeling is too severe and it wakes you up. The most you have gotten is about 18 minutes but you were woken up being drenched by a shower of rain that had been blown in.
You just want to sleep! You just want to be warm. This is torture!
You're sure this bastard is going to give you hypothermia! You don't know how long a person can spend in these sorts of temperatures without becoming a Popsicle. But you're sure you're approaching the limit.
The sound of the door opening draws your attention. Rolling to your side, the fresh tiles sting with their chilled bite. Your muscles staggering, you lift yourself into a sitting position, seeing Taehyung waltz in looking rested and warm.
"How did you sleep?" He asks sardonically.
"Fuck you! Get me out of these things!" You spit at him, glaring with heavy tired eyes.
He clicks his tongue, rounding on his heels. "Well. I can see that you're in no mood to talk. I'll come back later when you are in a more receptive mood." He leaves with an over the shoulder glance, amusement on his face.
"What!?" you scream after him. He isn't going to leave you here? He can't! "No! Come back!"
The collar kicks on. The sharp brutal pain ripping through you, leaving you groaning on your back as you wait overwrought for it to end.
"Jimin!" There is no response for the fourth time. "Jimin!" You're not sure why you're calling for him. You don't even know if he is in the house, let alone why he would help you. After 20 minutes or so you give in, slumping back into your pained shivering.
You had been trying to find something positive to cling to. For whatever reason you were under the illusion that come daytime this misery would get easier, the sun being your ally. But the sky is filled with a thick grey blanket of clouds and there hasn't been the slightest moment of sun the entire day, only hours upon hours of rain and wind.
Not only are you exhausted and sore from the continued tremors, but your head is still hammering from when this stupid collar was attached. Your entire body is in pain to the point where you might throw up. Then again, you've been feeling so violently sick due to everything for the past several hours already, that if it was going to happen, you're sure it would have already.
With a delicate mouse-like quietness Jimin opens the door, peering around it. Like he wants to come in but is not allowed to.
"Jimin! Man, I need to use the bathroom! Let me go so I can go pee. Please." You haven't eaten in over 24 hours and the only thing you drank you're sure you sweated out, but still, you're busting to use the bathroom. And assuming the Elite arrives home same time as yesterday you're still at least three hours from being released.
The tepid boy takes your pleas as a petition to enter, keeping his eyes down as he comes closer. "I'm sorry. I can't."
"Look, I promise I will come and sit straight back down here. Just let me out and I'll come back." You don't know if you even believe your own words, but right now you'll say anything. You're in so much discomfort and all of the other elements on top of it, you're rabid to be let free. "Taehyung never needs to know. I won't tell him. You won't tell him. Please just let me go to the bathroom."
With sympathy flashing in his eyes he steps forward onto the lower platform. His forehead wrinkled, he begins chewing his thumbnail. "Miss please, I can't."
There is something off about the way he's walking. Not something from before, something new. He's limping, but obviously trying to hide it. His movements are unnatural and forced.
"Are- are you okay?"
He shakes his head, opening his mouth for a second, thinking of a beginning to a sentence he decides not to say. Then in the same monotonous tone he had used before he explains, "Master Kim punished me for displeasing him. This is no more than I deserve."
The image of Taehyung giving Jimin that uncomfortable look as you said his full name, springs into your mind.
There is no way he would have gotten punished because of that. But if he did, that means that it was your fault again.
Your spirit drops.
You're certain if you continue to argue with this guy, you could have him unlock you and you could be free from this cold and discomfort for a few hours, at least until Taehyung returns. But the Elite is an unjust bastard. And even if you get yourself locked back up before he returns, you're worried Jimin might tell him anyway.
I can't do that to him. You can't let him get hurt because of you.
"Oh, okay. Never mind then." you dismiss him abruptly, unable to think of a way to wrap up the topic. "I'll wait until he gets home. Do you know when that might be?" The pressing on your full bladder becoming a demanding issue, you can't help but ask but are determined not to push it further like you did with the name issue.
To your relief Jimin replies of his own volition, giving you the idea that this information is freely available. "Usually between 7:00 to 7:30 PM, Miss."
Okay, only 2 and a half to 3 hours. You just have to keep your mind off of this. You can do that.
Oh god, oh god, oh god.
Any moment now. Any moment. It's 7:16 PM.
You're pretty certain that your bladder is going to explode. Although, if you were still trying relentlessly to stay positive, you could say that things are, for the moment, looking up. In the sense that your need to pee is so substantial that it's sufficiently distracting you from the intolerable cold. And your headache has faded considerably, down to only a dull thud, your ears no longer ringing. So, yeah. It's looking up.
But also, "Oh my fucking God, where is he!" you scream into the emptiness of the room, rocking back and forth, your legs extended out intertwined with each other, the pressure reaching the point where this is literally the only thing you can do to keep from imploding.
"Is something wrong, pet?" Taehyung caws, entering the frigid room.
Fuck you asshole are the first words that pop into your head, but you have to keep yourself in check or you're going to die.
"Can I please use the bathroom?" It's a strain to behave deferentially. But you maintain some composure, your tightly curled toes harbouring all of your irritation.
"Are you going to obey?" He leans into the wall, his smirking eyes staring down at you. Right now you couldn't care less about your nakedness though. With a stiff nod, you try intently to stop any aggressive expressions from showing on your face. "Good. Then do what I told you. Make yourself cum."
You can feel your eye twitch, but you reign it in, keeping a civil face and tongue.
"Okay, I will. But I am not going to be able to without first using the restroom. 2 minutes that's it, then I promise I will come straight back." you bargain.
With a slight nod, he signals his agreement. Pressing his hand to the lock on the chain, it falls away from the collar. In a minute you're going to have to obsess over how the fuck he removed that so easily after you've been fiddling with it for hours. But first,
Attempting to seem collected, you slowly stand rushing through the room, your limbs numb and rigid. Shutting the door of the bathroom you twist the lock, sealing yourself in for the moment. Knowing he is right outside you turn the shower on trying to make noise so you can comfortably pee.
And finally, you get some relief, "Oh thank god." you whisper to yourself. Never had you thought you would be so relieved to have such a basic need filled.
Sighing, you rest back on the toilet seat giving yourself a moment to enjoy this slightly warmer room, thawing your extremities. Steam is starting to cover the mirror, the shower warming the room significantly. Standing, you don't flush the toilet, hopefully giving the impression that you're still using it. Instead, you slink into the shower recess, the warmth on your frozen body creating a painful stabbing feeling throughout. But you press on, drifting further under the wash of warm water cascading down your body, wetting your hair and covering you head-to-toe in a painful yet soothing euphoric feeling.
The much-missed heat quickly bringing out the tiredness that you have been trying to refute for the day. Wanting to not drive yourself insane with the prospect of sleep from it being seemingly unobtainable with the elements raging around you. Sitting on the shower floor cross-legged enjoying the warm waterfall down your back, the stinging pain resides. Closing your eyes, your body relaxes, being able to feel a moment of contentment for the first time in 24 hours.
24 hours. You've only been here a day. One long ass day.
"Open the door." The Elite orders, a calm threat in his tone. Rudely interrupting your relaxation. You guess he figured out you weren't just peeing. Damn, and you were being so quiet too.
But... the door is locked. He isn't exactly getting in here. You keep your eyes closed revelling in the tiny victory, relishing the heat.
"Pet, you have three seconds to open the door." This time the threat is much closer to the surface. Still you remain silent.
I'm not allowed to say no, so there is nothing else to say. You smirk in thought.
It's not like he is going to break down his own door. And even if he does, you'll claim ignorance. It's hard to hear under the running water.
There is a mighty crack to the left of you, the door splitting in half. The top folded over, it hangs inside the room. Taehyung removes the rest of the door by grabbing the inside and one-handedly ripping it back, pulling it off the hinges and tossing it behind him like it was made of foam.
Okay, yeah. He is a hell of a lot stronger than you assumed.
He storms in, his poised and calm expression being conflicted by his aggressive actions. You don't move as he approaches. He just pulled a door off the wall like it was nothing, so there's not much you can do. With a solid grip, he grabs your wrist tearing you to your feet he drags you over the broken remains of the door back into the icy bedroom.
"What are you doing?!" you yelp at him.
"I warned you."
"Warned me of what? What are you talking about?" you play ignorant. But he doesn't play back, throwing you to the ground, fastening the chain to the collar once again. "Hey! What is your problem."
His blazer is wet from the splashback. He removes it throwing it on the bed. It's soaked through to his white collared button-up shirt and he removes that also.
Stalking forward he hovers over you, bare-chested, denim jeans sitting low on his hips, showing off his square frame and hard chest. Seeming a little more intimidating now that you know what he is capable of.
"You broke your promise." He clicks his tongue, kneeling down in front of you. For a moment you're tempted to kick your leg out and sweep his foot, breaking his balance and sending him splattering to the floor. It would certainly be an undignified look and some payback for the indignities you've had to suffer. But maybe while you're chained to the floor such an action would be poorly timed.
"I didn't." you bite back with the attitude of a schoolgirl.
"You promised to go the bathroom and come straight back. I never said you could shower."
Your eyes twinkle, the chance to taunt him is too easy.
"You never said I couldn't. What, do I have to ask your permission for every single thing I do? Oh, please Mr Elite, let me breathe, let me speak, let my heart beat." you scoff, flicking your hair to the side like punctuation on your words.
"Do you think you're amusing?" he smirks, "This is nothing more than the behaviour I would expect from a scrag of Menon." He insults you right back. The urge to kick him is growing. "Now continue with your task." He instructs, "And if you put on a pleasant enough display, I may rethink further punishment for your words and disobedient actions." you lean away, resting on your palms behind your back, feigning disinterest in his threat.
"Hm, I don't think so. I changed my mind." you mock him, with a smarmy facial expression. "But I do understand how being such a creep must stop you from getting any action, so if you want to see a girl get off, can I suggest paying for one. You probably don't want to touch her though, cause that'll dry her right up." you snap your fingers for emphasis and have to clench your mouth to stop from laughing.
His eyes drop low, the amused grin growing. "You must like the cold."
Three. Days. It has been nearly three days, that you have been chained to this fucking floor!
You can't take it anymore. It feels like you are losing your fucking mind. Everything feels wrong. You're freezing, starving, you want nothing more than to sleep. And all of this has you feeling sick like at any moment you're going to vomit, but you have nothing in your stomach to throw up, cause as it was mentioned you haven't eaten in three days!
Yesterday there was a brief 2 hour period where the sun came out and while it wasn't as effective as you hoped it might be, it provided enough heat to allow you to sleep brokenly. But 10 minutes after it went away you were back to convulsing.
You've been trying to remain as still as possible, the tiles below your exact spot seeming to be warmer by a degree or two. With your fingers interlocked between your thighs, you're trying to use what minuscule body heat you have to keep your fingers from falling off. Your extremities are filled with the sensation of being stabbed by thousands and thousands of pins sticking the same spot over and over again. Your toes are feeling the same, but unable to cover them you've tried to angle your body in such a way that they receive the least wind but it's barely helping.
You may need to reassess how you plan to deal with the Elite. Because right at this moment, it doesn't seem like he is feeling the wrath of your rebellion as you wanted him to. You on the other hand are certain that you're going to be hospitalized after this. Or dead.
There has to be a way that you can resist his intentions without it leading to you spending the entire time suffering.
But right now your brain is frozen. And until you come up with something, it's going to be less arduous to compromise your pride for the time being. Because just three days into this whole thing and you're already worn down. Enough so that if you could merely get to sleep in a warm bed, have some food and get out of these chains, you might be able to tolerate being an obedient pet for a while.
So- The problem at the moment is that neither of them has been back to check on you for the last day. Not since you insulted Taehyung. You've screamed for their attention, but nothing. Not even a glance to make sure that you're okay or even alive. You can hear them out there. You know that they're around the house, they are just giving you no mind.
But you're done. You can't bear to sit here in the cold any longer.
Fine. If he wants you to make yourself come, you can do that. You've certainly done it before.
Laying on your back, the cold sting of the tiles shoot up your skin, making you pant. You bend your knees and spread your legs shoulder-width apart. Taking a deep breath you try to still your trembling and begin running your numb fingers between your thighs, running them over the only part of your body that has managed to stay warm this entire time. Dipping a little lower you can feel the heat radiating from your opening.
From what you can tell by sound and from the quick tour of the house, Taehyung's bedroom is just down the hall at the other end of the top floor. So it won't be impossible to get his attention, you'll just need to make enough noise.
Time to put on a show.
You begin rubbing your clit. Because of the many other things impeding you, it takes a few seconds before it starts feeling good,, bringing you to a slow takeoff. However, the faster stroke yourself the better it feels, it reaching the point where tingles are spreading down your legs. You gyrate your hips, giving you extra motion making it feel better.
The first moan comes from the back of your throat, it being almost silent, rumbling in your chest. As the pleasure builds though, your cries of excitement grow louder, the sensation filling you up.
You try to hold out for as long as you can, letting every moan and cry pour out of you, hoping to attract as much attention as possible, but after 5 minutes you can feel you are so close to exploding. Your loud moans becoming vehement and unbridled. Your fingers start to slip, you're getting wetter with each motion, feeling yourself dripping, pushing you closer to climax. At the apex of it all, you flow over and the pressure explodes.
Screaming out, high pitched and piercing you rock your hips up into your hand, throwing your head back, arching into your orgasm.
Keeping a steady pace of stimulation, you try to extend the feeling as long as possible, even as the orgasm fades.
Eventually, it dies down, your body resting heavily on the ground as you pant. The after feeling pulsing between your legs. Your body relaxed and blissfully content. A euphoric smile on your face, brought on by both cumming and the large amounts of oxygen you gulped down. It feels so good and you feel heated inside. Maybe you should have been doing this to stay warm this whole time.
In low riding sweat pants and nothing else, Taehyung walks in on your orgasmic aftermath. A small grin on his face. His arms crossed over his chest, obviously feeling the freezing cold that you're being forced to endure at 1:00 AM.
The way his arms are crossed it pops his biceps. And his hair is wild and messily in his face. You hate that you're thinking it, but he looks so damn good. Where the hell was that image 5 minutes ago? He walks past you silently closing the sliding door, the bitter winds being blocked out. Crossing you again, he adjusts the thermostat next to the bedroom door. The space swelling with an air of heat, the current streaming over every inch of the room. Your body lapping in the encroaching warmth.
With one hand he opens a cupboard and tosses a folded up blanket at you, which you catch and unfold in the same movement, covering yourself from chin to toes wrapping tightly in the fluffy material.
"Good girl." He praises genuinely, leaving you alone in your newfound comfort.
Okay, so having these chains removed, a bed and food would have also been preferable but right now, you have to savour the little victory.
So fucking warm.
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ohshutupjimin · 16 hours ago
Imagine when you and Taehyung's child asks what a condom is.
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"Dad, mom, I found something. What is this?"
"Taehyung..." You said.
"How would I know? Your mom likes it raw."
Once you heard those words, you ended up choking on your water.
56 notes · View notes
swcetnight · 23 hours ago
It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 4 (TEASER)
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RELEASE DATE: Saturday, October 2nd.
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Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.
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masterlist here
→ pairing: journalist!taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)
→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))
-> warnings: oc has a really… really bad day, rude customers, swearing, degradation, near sexual assault, panic attack, anxiety attack, mention of major character death, description of plane crash (be aware), kissing, making out, brief tongue action, sexual content
→ word count: 512 (for the teaser)
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Calling Kim Taehyung…
You bite your lip, the ringing on the line endless, as if it was mocking you and your will to be alive.
“This is Kim Taehyung, sorry I couldn’t get to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.”
You try again.
Calling Kim Taehyung…
No answer.
Calling Kim Taehyung…
“Please pick up.” You whisper, face crumpling at your lack of luck. Taehyung had always been so quick to answer you, but the flashing red of your nightstand alarm clock is reminding you of what time it actually is: 3:00 AM.
“This is Kim Taehyung, sorry I couldn’t get to the phone—“
He’s probably sleeping, yet you ignore this possibility and attempt to reach him one more time, cutting off the last call and immediately pressing the call button again.
What if you’re actually dead? What if this is your life flashing before your eyes? What if—
A tired voice croaks across the line after just a few more rings. “Hello?”
“Taehyung?” You say, panicked and voice shaking— which is very obvious since his once tired voice is suddenly wide awake when he responds.
“Y/n?” You can hear rustling of his sheets, probably from him sitting up in alarm. “What’s going on, love?”
You don’t even register his slip, voice hiccuping from the sobs that are currently racking your throat. If it weren’t for your complete lack of brain power right now, you would probably be embarrassed by the sounds coming out of you. But how could you possibly not cry after a dream like that?
“Where- Where are you?” You question, clinging to your comforter as another round of sobs are released from your constricted throat.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I'm here.” His voice gently whispers, rustling continues and suddenly you can hear his muffled footsteps over the line. “It’s okay, talk to me.. what’s going on?”
You blubber a bit, unable to form coherent words, but another hush from Taehyung and an “it’s okay” helps you to get your words out.
“I had a- a dream. It was a plane crash, Tae.” You cry, breath slowing down ever so slightly. Your mind is still foggy, but you can feel your consciousness slowly coming back. “Where are you?”
There’s dead silence on the end, the previous rustling and footsteps coming to a halt. For a moment, you think you lost him.
“Taehyung?” You whisper, another sob threatening your voice.
“Y/n.” His tone is suddenly serious. “Stay right there. I’m on my way, okay? Just breathe, i’m coming.” You can hear a jingling of what's most likely his keys, and the door slamming shut. “I’m coming, stay there.”
“Okay.” You sniffle quietly, hearing the line cut off and you’re left in the silence of your room once more. Without Taehyung's voice to distract you, the heart that beats rapidly in your chest seems to heighten its speed. Why had he gotten so serious after you told him what your dream was?
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tag list:
@moonchild1 @procrastination-queenie @hobipaint @jeonfiles @surilirani @dopedreamfireparty @vantezza @audstylesgirl @getmemyfries @unicornbabylover
please send in an ask if you like to be added to the tag list !!
also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you!
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guccimins · a day ago
concept: you getting railed by taehyung and jimin at the same time. enjoy the mental picture.
oh . oh .
your legs spread over jimin's thighs as he drills your dripping pussy . taehyung hammering into your ass from behind , his strong hand in your hair , pulling your head back .
it's so overwhelming , but in the best way possible .
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ladyartemesia · 3 months ago
You always give out such amazing fic recs. I'm wondering if you have anything on hand for me. My absolute favorite trope is soft camboy AUs but really any sex worker au hits the spot, any member.
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• these stories feature sex workers or sex worker adjacent plot lines up to and including running personal NSFW accounts • please be aware that all contain mature content and mature themes • minors do not interact • please CAREFULLY READ ALL TAGS IN ALL WORKS to be sure that you are comfortable reading the content •
Silk and Lace by @sunshyngal this one will blow your mind because it’s a royalty AU as well. I don’t want to spoil it but this fic is completely wild and amazing. Like amazing amazing. There are hidden identities, sexy secrets, intense mutual pining. I can’t say enough about it. And BOY can Shyn write. I have been obsessed with this story from the second she published it. It is illicit. It is shocking. I am shooketh.
Elite Chatboy by @kookingtae this one is funny as well as hot! Reader signs up for a sexting service and catches feelings with her sweet and sexy service provider Jungkook. It is a hilarious, fluffy, sexy ride. This may seem like a strange thing to say but this story is really about that couple who laughs and loves together because the connection between them is just that irresistible.
Human Touch by @snackhobi this one has a twist. The sex worker is an android named Taehyung who gains sentience and falls in love with the woman who looked at him and saw more than a machine built for her pleasure. This is honestly a beautiful story and at the end I was just so soft and happy.
Starfruit by @inkedtae is a wild wild ride on the camboy Hobi train. Features a curvy reader and oh my gosh it’s so sexy. This one made me laugh too. There is a fun little twist in the middle that sent me screaming. Truly a delight. I laughed and I sighed and I swooned.
Cyberslut by @kimnjss this one hits on one of my favorite tropes ever—good girl with a secret identity online. The reader has a hard stan thirst account dedicated to the college basketball star (Yoongi) who has no idea that his nerdy tutor is the online hottie tweeting about his hands.
Who’s Your Daddy by @ppersonna the reader is looking for a real dom in her life so she seeks one out on a website dedicated to meeting that particular need. She has no idea that the sexy dom she’s paired with is none other than her best friend who has been in love with her for years. This hot, funny, and delightful story of false identities and true love will leave you sweating and grinning guaranteed.
Dazed and Glazed by @floralseokjin Ok this story has been on a couple rec lists of mine and it will continue to be on many more because no joke it’s like a full on legitimate masterpiece. I could write a dissertation on this story. It’s flawless. The characterizations, the world building, the way the emotions build. There isn’t enough I can say about it. This story is special and features one of the hottest sex scenes like…ever. This is truly one of my favorite fics of any genre for any member and I do not say that lightly. The fun begins when the queen of good girl porn wants to retire with a bang—specifically with notorious porn bad boy Kim Seokjin ruining her in all the right ways.
In Motion by @yoonia is something else. I confess I came to her site because I vaguely recalled that she maybe had a sex worker fic but then I found this and I just COULD NOT LOOK AWAY it was incredible. I mean mesmerizing. The reader is invited to an exclusive voyeurism club where she ends up crossing paths with a handsome man who turns out to be her new boss—Jeon Jungkook! It was so incredibly hot. I couldn’t put it down. I’m serious just wow.
Simply.Cute97 by @httpjeon this is a spicy story about a virgin camgirl who falls for her favorite viewer—a hottie who also happens to be a camboy by the name of Jeon Jungkook. Their relationship is the wildest blend of filthy and fluffy and honestly it’s just a ton of fun the entire way through.
Ill-Fated by @sketchguk is great. What is a girl to do when she finds out that the bane of her existence and the gorgeous cam boy she is obsessed with are one and the same person? This is sometimes sweet, sometimes sexy and a pleasure to read all the way through. I can’t say I blame the reader for handling the situation the way she does. It all seems quite satisfying—if you know what I mean.
Playtime by @jungkookienoona is hot hot hot. This is a fun little cam porn love square. Two childhood best friends in love with each other. Both are cam performers and both are obsessed with the other person’s stream. It’s really just an insanely sexy and also an insanely thought provoking story. I giggled a lot because really it’s so cute, but also insanely hot. So be warned, this fic did not come to play—despite its name.
The Playmate Series by @scribblemetae is about a lovely girl who takes a job a ‘playmate’ for the boys of Bangtan. She caters to their kinks and discovers a lot about herself along the way. Obviously there are feelings and a lot of interesting twists and turns throughout. What a spicy ride! A lot of interesting thought and world building went into this one! You’re sure to be fascinated.
Show-Off by @taeverie is a fun little story about a lucky girl who discovers her roommate Hoseok is a camboy and ends up getting a live and in-person show. It’s a fun and quirky little snack that really hits the spot. My favorite part was when Hobi caught her watching his streams after she lied about it. Good stuff all around.
Notorious by @jungk0oksthighs this one is kind of fascinating. I really don’t want to give the story away, but literally by the end I basically just screamed. It was wild. Definitely give it a shot, but be prepared to have your jaw hit the floor. This author is quite good at eliciting that reaction.
A Matter of Shyness by @jjungkookislife this story is so cute! It’s about a sweet girl who is thirst following a naughty Snapchat account at the same time she begins growing closer to a classmate named Kim Taehyung. There are a lot of delightful reveals and genuinely sweet moments.
Éffleurer by @sugaurora is a fascinating and highly addictive story. This features as sex worker who specializes in a type of submissive performance deciding to enter into a submissive relationship with her gorgeous boss. I’m telling you it’s thrilling. Absolutely thrilling.
Obey by @jjkfire this is one of the most endearing and lovely stories on this list. It’s so sexy and hot yes but it’s like also a beautiful redemption song. The reader is a shy awkward escort who isn’t really an escort, she’s really just there to serve drinks and subtly discourage men from booking her, but she unknowingly enchants the very beautiful and very dangerous mafia boss Kim Taehyung and well… What’s a girl to do? The twist in the story is priceless by the way. I literally cried tears of moved beauty. It’s like that.
Kairos by @luffles424 yes I know. This one is an auto-include because I love it so much and it’s like super amazing and all. And if you haven’t read it yet then please don’t deny yourself any longer. Sweet omega college girl decides to auction of her first heat to the highest bidder and wealthy businessman Kim Seokjin cannot imagine who would pay for something like that… but then he smells her and all bets are off. This is honestly a beautiful love story and you know I am such a sucker for a/b/o done well.
Sexual Healing by @honeymoonjin features extraordinarily hot sex therapist Kim Namjoon and his quest to help the reader reach realization and release in this occasionally humorous romp. I really enjoyed reading this. Namjoon’s smooth certainty had me swooning, but it was the way he really encouraged the reader to explore and enjoy herself that made this an unmissable treat.
Out of Work by @jessikahathaway ok Jess full disclosure I read this before we were friends and it’s one of those stories that I ALWAYS think about (Jess’s writing will do that to you) and when I got this request I was like oh my gosh I have to include THAT Jimin story and here it was YOU that wrote it and I didn’t even remember! I love this story. It’s so incredibly fluffy and surprisingly romantic.
The Cockpile: One Shot Series by @httpjeon this is actually seven different one-shots (one for each of the members) each with their own unique setting. All the stories are themed around sex work and all of them are top notch. I highly recommend. Seven stories for the click of one link with this one!
Shutter and Shiver (Part 2) @pac-mang-blog this one was hard to track down but it was worth it. Submissive camboy cutie Jimin has a noona kink and a pretty project partner who watches his show faithfully. Jimin is quite the adventurous tease and the reader spends most of the story in a state of extremely hot and bothered. I included the link to both parts because they really are tricky to find.
The BANGmeTAN Collab is an ongoing collection of stories centered around the members as sex workers. Thus far it features completed stories by @kpopfanfictrash and @underthejoon • I originally linked The Boyfriend Concept which I discovered (thanks to @kigurumu) was actually part of a whole collab! All the authors participating are top notch writers and each installment is a delightful treat!
Satisfy by @suga-kookiemonster so this story is like wild. I learned things about myself reading this story. This author is great at balancing humor with genuine connection and it really shines in this unusual tale of Kim Taehyung’s friend who (after finding herself in need of money to finish school) agrees to an exclusive paid sexual relationship with the extremely wealthy Kim brothers (the Kim Line) in order to minimize scandals for their influential family. It’s filthy, evocative, emotional, and downright electrifying. I think I may have passed out during Tae’s scene and you’ll know why as soon as you start reading it.
Bam! You Got Scammed by @dovechim this is a wildly creative story. Truly. It revolves around a camgirl who is running a bit of a scam. Poor sweet Jeon Jungkook is double crossed and he decides to get his revenge in sexy satisfying fashion. This is a delightful story. I laughed and gasped and fanned myself the whole time.
95mochibuns by @gukptune this story is delightful in so many ways. Jimin is a camboy and the reader is a twitch streamer and they both (unknowingly) have huge crushes on each other that accidentally spill out onto the internet with lots of antics. Even their followers get involved. It’s sexy and hilarious and I always feel such anticipation when I read it. Even though I know what happens!
The Cambunny Series by @getitinbusan is a fascinating take on an idol AU. Jungkook goes exploring and sees someone he recognizes. The drama unfolds deliciously from there! This one was very hot! I had to stop and fan myself! The second part features Hoseok in a surprise guest capacity!
Take One by @untaemedqueen this story holds such a special place for me because I was really involved in helping D plan it. I knew from the first paragraphs she sent me that it was something really incredible. Min Yoongi is a super famous porn star and the reader writes fan fiction about him. Little does she know that he LOVES reading her work and starts incorporating some of her kinks and stories into his work! It’s so much fun and still manages to be both a great love story and a super sexy romp.
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…and since I spent all that time putting together this list, lemme just slide you the link to my MASTERLIST where you can find other themed fic rec lists like this as well as all of my original works 😘
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If you know of any really great stories (including your own) that might fit the theme of this list, don’t be afraid to send them in to me!
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Thank you to the people who sent in recommendations! Newest additions to the list are in PINK!
4K notes · View notes
opaljm · 3 months ago
nip it in the bud (m) – kth
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➻ female reader x taehyung
➻ going to get a piercing au/completing bucket list au + my brother’s best friend au + tattoo artist!taehyung
➻ genres: smut, romance
➻ length & status: 10k words; complete
➻ rating & warnings: 18+; taehyung has tattoos and piercings, he and his big hands are illegal, tae's oral fixation is entirely out of control, nipple sucking/breast play, semi-public sex (? idk tbh), the pussy eating he does is sloppy and gross, squirting, nasty/messy sex, unprotected sex (wear a condom and be safe kids OR ELSE), riding, creampie, pussy stuffing cuz tae has a big dick (I don’t think you understand it’s GIGANTIC), multiple orgasms
➻ summary: You're not sure how you ended up here, but maybe a shitty ex and a horrible breakup had a hand in what placed you in front of the tattoo parlor. It was already a nerve-wracking experience, but what you never expected was seeing that the owner and artist giving you nipple piercings was your older brother's best friend you hadn't seen in ages. to make things even worse, he got fucking hotter.
➻ a/n: this was born out of a TikTok where I learned that tattoo artists have to make sure your nipples are hard before piercing them and then I yelled at @jamaisjoons, having an existential crisis about how hot that was. She is the one who told me to write about it 😌 and the reason the fic exists. The last time I got piercings was idk 16 years ago (yes I was 7 🥴). I also have zero tattoos so my knowledge of this is minimal I just wanted to write hot Taehyung sex. Hope y’all enjoy this mess regardless. beta-read by @taegularities @hantaev & @chateautae​ (she helped with the summary too🤩) my favorite tae accounts who have encouraged me so much during this arduous writing process! beta-read and banner made by @softestmuse! You all were there for me for so much during this whole thing and helped so much 🥺
⋆ my masterlist ⋆
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Were you actually going to do this? Was this really happening?
As you stood in front of the tattoo parlor christened “Inked in Blue & Grey,” by the messily arranged jagged font that laid out the cobalt blue neon letters decorating the shopfront, you almost chickened out. 
When you had been scrolling through Yelp late at night two weeks ago, flitting between the stages of depression and bargaining as you made your way through the grief from the breakup between you and your ex, Donghyuk, your eyes had stopped on the highly rated tattoo parlor – 4.9 stars? That was practically unheard of, especially when they had reviews and ratings in the tens of thousands. It hadn’t taken much for you, with eyes hurting from the blue light of your cellphone in the late hours and a head aching from how wine drunk you were, to quickly find the link to their website and sign up for an appointment to get twin nipple piercings. Well, no one ever wanted a singular nipple piercing to your knowledge. But you had no doubt that there were countless people out there who had chickened out from the pain of the first to not follow through with the second one.
You slowly pulled your lower lip with your teeth, softly biting down on the plump flesh as you had your head tilted up towards the intimidatingly bright letters of the parlor’s sign. The last time you had gotten any piercings was in summer camp ten years ago when Yuju had stabbed your ears through with a sewing needle. The needle had been unbearably hot from having been heated by the flame of the fluid lighter she had snuck into camp by tucking it in the black Nike crew socks she had been wearing on drop off day. It had stung you with the quick flashing pain of a burning stab wound. 
Yuju had been your last resort to get additional ear piercings which you had thought were so cool after you saw your brother walk into the house one day with several new helix piercings to go along with his lobe ones. You had begged your mother for another set of piercings, tired of having the boring set of two you had. You wouldn’t get them in the cartilage like Jimin had but wanted to add to your lobe. Your mother had vehemently denied your protests and grounded Jimin for sneaking out and getting piercings with his best friend Taehyung. 
You had complained about it to your cabin mates, who had seen the scores of tween and teen campers swoon over your brother and his friends who seemed edgy and dangerous. Your friends however were immune to their appeal and knew that they weren’t much more than geeky nerds who carefully hid their embarrassing tastes in both anime and porn. Hearing thirteen-year-old Y/N complain about her plight in the late-night whispers covered by the chirping of crickets that kept the night camp counselors from checking in on your cabin, Yuju had jumped down from her bunk into yours and eagerly offered to help you increase your total number of piercings up to four.
Looking back, you had no idea why you had trusted Yuju’s dubious claims of working at the Claire’s in the mall close to her house for three months. Later on, you found out that it had actually been Yuju’s older sister who had had the nice mall gig. The incident had left you with piercings that kept getting infected until one of them finally closed up, and you were still rocking the asymmetrical ear-piercing look, almost a decade later with one dangly earring threaded with stars on your right ear while a cubic zirconium stud and gold bedazzled moon clipped your left ear. You never saw the point of getting them fixed and had avoided piercings and needles to the best of your abilities until now.
You thought you pulled off the mixed jewelry look pretty well, but your face instantly scrunched up with an unhappy frown when you remembered Donghyuk telling you to wear matching earrings when you went out on dates with him. You bit down on the flesh of your bottom lip harder as you recalled how Donghyuk had constantly berated you and put you down for the entire duration of your three-year long relationship. Your face twisted as though a bitter taste had flooded your mouth when you remembered that your mother had been expecting him to propose to you this year. Why had you begged him for another chance when he callously threw your arms off him as he stomped around the apartment gathering up his things, ignoring your pleas and requests for an explanation until he couldn’t take it anymore? Then Donghyuk had turned around to you, glaring at you with the heat of his hard black-brown eyes, staring you down resentfully from his towering height of 6’2.
“I broke up with you because I’m tired of having such mind-numbingly vanilla sex with a woman who never comes. You’re so boring and honestly, I’m just not attracted to you anymore, Y/N. I thought I could change the meek mousy weirdo. But after three years, it looks like I was wrong,” he had said with a caustic bite to the venomous hate he spewed from his mouth.
Yes. You remembered exactly why you had booked that appointment in the fuzzy high you had gotten from too much wine and “Emily in Paris.” You had been so livid. Of all people, Donghyuk thought you were boring? Unadventurous, and vanilla? You were the one who was always holding yourself back from being too enthusiastic during sex because he could only get off when he was doing you doggy style with his hand covering your mouth in what he thought was his attempt at BDSM in the bedroom.
Your eyes lit up with renewed heat and you found yourself marching forward to the door and swinging it towards you with a powerful pull as you made your way in. Your newfound confidence only lasted until you made your way to the receptionist. There, you found yourself fumbling once more.
“Hi, I’m Park Y/N,” you stammered nervously, “I – uh, I made an appointment for… um nipple piercings,” you whispered the last bit, embarrassedly as your neck straightened and you twisted your head around to make sure no one else had overheard you. “Two weeks ago? I made my piercing appointment a while back,” you finished more confidently.
The receptionist stared at you expressionlessly. “What time is your appointment?” she asked, tucking back a vibrant purple lock of hair behind her ear.
“It’s – it’s the one o’ clock,” you mumbled, clearing your throat uneasily. You had never been in an establishment like this before and dressed in your oversized sage colored waffle knit sweater and a pair of charcoal gray Lululemon leggings you felt wildly out of place.
“Alright Y/N, here are the forms you need to fill out before you do this,” she said easily, plucking out the thick stapled document out of a manila folder. “Just a reminder, this is a semi-permanent body modification and this will close up rather quickly if you go without wearing jewelry for too long. There are pages on your medical history and if you have any allergies on the front. Prices and payment information are on the pages following that. The documents explaining the procedure and aftercare are at the end. We’ll send you home with a list of instructions on how to care for your new piercings after your appointment ends as well.”
You blinked, overwhelmed by the staggering amount of information she had just thrown your way. As you sat down at the oatmeal colored sherpa sofa at the reception and read through all the health risks and warnings, making sure you were taking in all of the information, carefully signing all the lines and checking off all the boxes, you wondered if you were in over your head.
Technically, it wasn’t too late for you to turn your back on this. You would lose your deposit, but you could still walk away – pain free. What would Jimin do if he found out that you had gotten your nipples pierced? Probably murder you, based on how he had reamed you and Yuju out after your ears had gotten infected from swimming in the lake the camp had been located next to. But would you really let your overbearing annoying older brother control you even now when you were 23? And how would Jimin even know about you getting these very intimate piercings? 
You only saw him a few times a year. There was no way Jimin would be finding out about this, nipples were more discreet than ears and you couldn’t even remember the last time you had been around your brother in clothing that would even hint that you had boobs, much less nipples. Jimin had only ever seen you in oversized T-shirts, flannel pajama bottoms or baggy sweats, and giant zip-up hoodies when he had the fortune of being in your company. No wonder he sometimes forgot you were a girl. 
Once you finished up the paperwork, you made your way back to the girl at the front desk with the clipboard. Placing it down on the counter, you took out your credit card to pay up front, with your id card beside it as verification on top of the terrazzo surface, but she shook her head, “You pay at the end for the piercings and the jewelry you pick. Personally, I prefer nipple clickers,” she said wryly, twisting her lips into a smirk.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you mumbled as you watched her stand up and come around to you.
“Follow me, I’ll take you to the private room we have for the more intimate tattoos and piercings. There’s only one artist in today but he should be finishing up with his other client soon. You’ll probably only have to wait 5 to 10 minutes for V,” she threw her words over her shoulder carelessly as she guided you through the narrow hallway.
When she closed the door behind you and left you alone in the room, you felt rather like you were at the doctor’s waiting for your gynecologist to come in and the panic quickly set in once again. Should you have your shirt off and be ready for the piercing? Or would the tattoo artist be freaked out if he was instantly assaulted with the image of your breasts the second he opened the door? Should you sit up on the wide leather covered table or continue to stand while staring awkwardly at the door waiting for the artist to walk in?
As you looked around the small room, your eyes caught on the artwork decorating the walls. They were on white backgrounds that were framed and looked like post-impressionist portraits. The color scheme stuck to black and the primary colors, while the faces had the boldest of expressions painted over them. Extraordinary, you thought, as the door opened behind you.
“Hi, I’m V. I'll be the artist who is piercing you today. I see you’ve signed up for two nipple piercings?” A deep sensual voice flooded into the room, making you shudder involuntarily. 
You turned back and saw a male looking down at the clipboard with the forms you had filled out, his face was half covered by an indigo face mask dotted with silver embroidered stars while the other half was concealed by the soft looking black waves that were flowing forward as his bangs swept over his forehead and obscured his eyes.
“Yes, that’s right,” you nervously tittered, “Should I– should I take off my top?”
“Mmhmm,” he murmured, his eyes quickly sweeping over you, barely looking at you, as he continued on professionally, “Could you also take off your bra and tie back your hair before sitting up on the table?”
V turned around to the cabinets to get out the clamps and needles he would need to pierce you. As he bustled around gathering purple latex gloves and alcohol wipes, he asked in his soothing husky voice, “So what type of jewelry are we thinking? Titanium straight barbells? White gold hoops?”
“Which one is better?” you asked, shuddering in the air-conditioned room as your arms prickled up with goosebumps and you wrapped your arms around your naked upper half.
“Most people get the straight barbells; they find them to be the most comfortable,” V said as he tinkered around with the selection of nipple rings, “Titanium is hypoallergenic so it’s a really good metal choice. If you’re more sensitive to metals I would probably recommend gold but that’s a little more expensive. Any special closures you’re looking for? Star attachments at the end? Moons?”
“Just the basic white gold straight barbells with the star ends,” you muttered quietly. You’d worry about getting more decorative adornments for your nipples when they fully healed from the piercings and you were more accustomed to them. For now, the cute stars at the ends, instead of spherical stoppers, would be enough.
V readied everything on a small table with wheels that he pushed to one side of where you were sitting. As he pulled his gloves on, he said, “I’m going to clean your nipples and then I'll flick them to make sure they are erect enough that I can comfortably clamp them and pierce the needle through them, okay? Let me know if at any moment I am making you feel uncomfortable, sound good?”
You hummed your assent and V finally looked up from his equipment, an alcohol wipe in his hand as he reached forward for your left breast. Before he made contact however, his eyes met yours.
“Y/N?” he yelped in shock, his large gloved fingers brushing against your nipple for the briefest of moments in his shock before he recovered and recoiled from you as though he had been struck.
Your brows furrowed as you confusedly inquired, “Taehyung?”
The two of you stared at each other in shock. The male who was standing in front of you with the Van Gogh-esque vines and branches wrapping their way up his right arm  and covering his throat surely could not be the Kim Taehyung you had grown up with. This could not be your brother Jimin’s childhood best friend. This could not be the former bane of your existence.
“Yes,” breathed Taehyung, still gaping at you with his mouth wide open from behind his mask, not that you could see. You noted that he respectively maintained eye contact with you the entire time, not letting his eyes dip below your gaze. Shrugging on your muted green sweater you glared at him. The second you were covered, Taehyung gazed upwards to the rafters and murmured a not so silent prayer much to your displeasure.
“Y/N why are you getting your– ” Taehyung stopped, obviously struggling with how to word his question while not wanting to talk about his best friend’s younger sister’s nipples. “Why are you getting more piercings?” he said instead with what you thought was highly misplaced affront. “Remember when you almost died because of Yuju in eighth grade?”
Taehyung was so dramatic. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, noting with satisfaction that a red flush was spreading across his golden skin as you held your gaze.
Taehyung had been a junior in high school and the camp counselor assigned to all the cabins in the row yours had been in the same summer Yuju had gone ham with your ears. He had also gotten his ass handed to him when Jimin had found out that instead of making sure the campers were asleep he had been sucking face with Jennie Kim every night.
You scowled, annoyed by how the Taehyung in front of you was a long way away from the gangly nerd with unattractive rectangle framed dad glasses and straight brown hair cut into an unflattering bowl cut that you remembered. Sure, everyone had always talked about how attractive Taehyung had been growing up, but you had never seen it. Taehyung had been a geek who had a penchant for weird outfits with his loose fit/too short culottes, brightly colored oversized crewnecks that were more hole than sweater thanks to his overeager hands when it came to snipping with scissors, and black beat-up converse lows. He had been the furthest thing from what you were into back in the day. However, the man standing in front of you right now? He was almost intimidatingly beautiful. A stunning Adonis, so gorgeous that even Aphrodite had fallen in love.
Taehyung had pulled off his mask and was frowning at you, his petal pink lips pressed thinly together. Your eyes widened when you noticed the glint of silver peeking out between his lips. Taehyung had a piercing on his tongue.
“Are you trying to police my right to have piercings?” you angrily demanded, “You work at a tattoo parlor! You have seven piercings.”
His beautiful dark brows pulled down as his wavy hair swept forward covering one of his eyes again, but he hectically moved his hair away from his face as he looked at you in abrupt alarm, “How could you possibly know that?!”
You froze in confusion, halting your impassioned tirade. Taehyung had seven piercings? You looked at him straight on again, your eyes flitting across his body, scanning him from head to toe. You had known about his five ear piercings. He had gotten them with Jimin when the two of them had still been in high school and you would see Taehyung everyday either at school or your house because of how often he would be over. The only facial piercing he had was his tongue. Where was the seventh? As your gaze drifted down his front, it stopped at his chest. Though you had been thinking about people with only one nipple piercing earlier, you somehow didn’t think Taehyung would be in that crowd. 
Your gaze finally stopped awkwardly at his crotch which was concealed by his black jeans. You stilled at the thought of Taehyung having a piercing on his cock and tried to look away quickly after you came to the realization. 
Unfortunately for you, Taehyung hadn’t planned on making it easy for you. A large veiny hand palmed at his denim covered crotch. “Are you having dirty thoughts about my dick, Y/N?” murmured Taehyung.
“I’m not!” you protested. “I’m just here for my piercing appointment so get on with it, Taehyung! Treat me like one of your usual customers!” 
You grabbed at the bottom of your sweater again and this time, instead of just holding it up above your breasts for Taehyung, you pulled the entire thing off. With your bare chest still heaving, you attempted to straighten your back, meeting Taehyung’s eyes confidently. 
Taehyung held your gaze with heat behind his chocolaty brown eyes for long interminable minutes. A sense of understanding seemed to pass between the two of you before he bit his lips and grated, “Fine, Y/N.”
Taehyung went back to the table where he had been preparing his equipment, making sure that he had gathered everything before pushing it along to stand right next to where you were seated. He sat down on a circular stool with wheels and slid towards you, using his feet to propel him forward.
Sighing once he was in front of you, he squirted hand sanitizer on his purple encased hands to make sure they were still clean, though he hadn’t touched anything other than your jewelry to resterilize them after his panicked realization that you were his client. He slowly and thoroughly rubbed his palms together, working the sanitizer in between his fingers, taking as much time as he could to delay the inevitable and then fanned them to dry. You were mesmerized by the size of his hands. They were so big they could probably cover your boobs with room to spare even though you were a rather busty girl yourself. You whimpered a little as you watched him at work.
Taehyung had heard you making that sound but he tried to ignore it. You were making it hard for him to think straight. He had never once thought that one day his dick would fall for Jimin’s crybaby little sister that he had annoyed at every opportunity he had gotten when he was younger. He had been trying to avoid direct eye contact with your uncovered upper half without much success. Your two voluptuous teardrop breasts seemed to be begging for his attention with their perky upturned nipples, hard due to the cold air drafting into the room. And below your breasts was your tiny waist and heavenly hips. You were shaped like the hourglass filled with black sand that he had for decoration in this room. 
He had already sterilized the white gold bars that you had wanted, and cleaning them a third time would only make you have an angry outburst again he was sure, but now it was time for him to get your nipples ready. He matter-of-factly ripped open an alcohol wipe, unfolding the drenched white sheet within the packet. It was finally time for him to touch you. He didn’t think he had ever been so unnerved in his life. 
Pulling the seat as close to the table that you were on as he comfortably could, he reached out for you. One of his large hands clutched your side, long fingers splayed over your ribs to hold you in place, as his other hand delicately swiped at your nipples with the alcohol wipe. You were frozen like a statue, not even daring to breathe as Taehyung was at work, his face only inches away from your breasts. Too soon, or so you had thought, his hands went away to grab the surgical scrub to further ensure that your nipples were as clean and disinfected as possible before he went to work and actually stabbed your chest to create the piercings. 
You sighed as his hands returned to your chest again. Taehyung had moved on from cleaning your skin to etching them with a marker to indicate where your piercings would be. He cupped the underside of one of your breasts with his left hand while his right hand carefully drew blue dots on either side of your nipples that were parallel to each other. He then switched over to your other breast and drew on the dots to replicate what he had marked before as symmetrically as possible. 
The scratchiness of the pen tip hardened your nipples even more than they had been and wetness pooled in between your pressed thighs. When he was done his palm was flat against your abdomen, pushing you back, “You’ll want to lie down Y/N just to be cautious. Some people get their piercings done sitting but there is the possibility that you’ll faint so I just want everything to be safe for you.”
As you laid back to rest on top of the butcher paper covering the cool leather of the table, you panicked. Taehyung was really going to do this. He was treating you like a paying customer, which you were, but you found yourself wishing that he wasn’t acting so professionally and had tried harder to dissuade you from getting these piercings, especially since you were having second thoughts about this. 
He finally returned to face you again, holding a steel contraption that looked like scissors but the ends were flat with little holes. He had his fingers threaded through the clamps he was going to use to hold your nipple as he pricked through it with a long sterilized needle. 
Taehyung sighed, “I’m going to have to flick and touch your nipples a lot. I’m sure you’re aware of that already but it might take a little more finagling than you thought. It might not be a one and done process where the clamps are perfectly on on the first try. Just, tell me if it’s too much or I’m making you uncomfortable and I’ll immediately back off. Okay, Y/N?”
You nodded mutely. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. What if you threw up all over Taehyung the second you opened your mouth?
Taehyung held your right nipple in between his forefinger and thumb, gauging its firmness before determining that it wasn’t erect enough. He flicked it with his finger, and you had to stifle your reaction, the hardness of his nail bed, even through the latex glove, catching you by surprise. Finally, he was ready to use the clamps.
You breathed through your mouth as the metal clamps pinched your delicate mauve areola to hold the bud of your nipple in place. Leaving the equipment dangling from the edge of your breast, Taehyung turned back around to grab the needle he had prepared. 
While Taehyung had been focused on the next step, you had managed to further your panicked state and were almost hyperventilating. Your lips were pressed tightly together and your hands had furled themselves into clenched fists that had your fingers digging into the thin white butcher paper beneath you, ripping it as your nails dug tiny indentations into the smooth leather underneath. 
Before Taehyung went ahead with the first of your piercings, he glanced at your face, like he did with all his clients to make sure that everything was still going smoothly. What he found had him putting the needle down again. Your face was white with fear and your eyes were filled with liquid. 
“Hey,” murmured Taehyung softly, his gloved hand cupping your cheek. “What’s up Y/N? You wanna tell me what’s going on?”
“No!” you protested fiercely.
“Miss Park Y/N,” teased Taehyung, striving to adopt a lighthearted tone, “Come on, is it just nerves? You can tell me. If I know what’s wrong then I can help you fix it. Do you not wanna get these done today?”
You sighed, “Taehyung, it’s just. I don’t know. Why am I even doing this?”
“Hmm,” hummed Taehyung, steepling his fingers, his warm brown eyes glancing at you comfortingly, “A very good question. Why are you doing this? We don’t want you getting a piercing for the wrong reasons. What is it? Have you been down in the dumps and need some change? Well maybe it’ll help you but maybe it won’t and then you’ll end up with far more piercings than you ever thought you would.”
“Is that what happened with you?” you whispered. Now that Taehyung wasn’t actively working on getting your piercings done, you had covered your chest again with your hands cupping your breasts.
“Not exactly,” admitted Taehyung, “Maybe at first when I was getting the piercings with Jimin, but later on as I got more serious about art and creating, it became a way for me to express myself to the world. A way to solidify my character and what I wanted to be known for and associated with. I really had fun once I started adding the tattoos in,” he laughed huskily. His cheeks came with his boxy wide spread grin. You had missed Taehyung. Though granted, he had been annoying for much of your childhood, you’d had a lot of fun with him. You adored Taehyung, you realized belatedly. Though perhaps realizing it while you were topless was not the best time for your epiphany, you thought as blush took over you, blood rushing to the surface of your skin, painting your cheeks, ears, and chest a muted red.
“Will you tell me where the seventh piercing is?” you asked softly, pushing yourself up. 
Taehyung stared at you, his gaze going in between your face and your uncovered form, its heat was infectious and made your own skin flush even further in its wake.
“Perhaps,” he agreed, “Although, you’ll have to tell me what pulled you into this studio today, first.”
You pouted, “It’s really dumb.”
“This is a safe place,” Taehyung smirked winningly. He repeatedly raised and lowered his thick, impeccably groomed eyebrows mischievously, “I won’t judge you, Y/N.”
“Yes, you will,” you groaned.
“Yes, I will,” admitted Taehyung easily, the ghost of a smile still painting his lips. “But you’ll tell me anyway, won’t you?”
“Donghyuk broke up with me,” you grumbled, “We were supposed to get married.”
Taehyung blinked, he vaguely remembered a baby faced male that was slightly taller than him with a mushroom cap haircut. He scoffed, “The audacity of some people. You were so far out of his league, it’s insulting that you weren’t the one to end things.”
You smiled weakly at Taehyung’s attempt to cheer you up. “It made my mind go all over the place. I don’t know. Maybe he wasn’t wrong. Maybe I am unadventurous and boring. Maybe I am vanilla.”
“What’s wrong with vanilla?” complained Taehyung, throwing his hands up. His outcry of displeasure loud and clear.
You snorted, your gaze focusing on the length of his fluttering fingers for far too long, “Let’s not pretend you’re not one freaky mofo, Taehyung. But I don’t know, I just wanted to live a little.”
“So?” retorted Taehyung mulishly, “I am a man of diverse tastes. I can appreciate both vanilla and some of the more– experimental stuff.”
“Hmm,” you hummed, “I wanted to get nipple piercings, they're adventurous right? And it’s not because I think that if I do this he’ll get back together with me. But maybe he’s the one who kept me trapped and complacent. Maybe he’s the reason I’m not bold. I just wanted to try something new.”
Taehyung scoffed, “You didn’t have to go to such drastic and permanent measures. You can barely handle the nipple clamp. You would’ve cried and complained the entire month that you had to wait for your nipples to heal. You forget that, I know you. Oh Y/N,” Taehyung suddenly recalled, “You can’t do sexy stuff with your nipples while they heal so how exactly would that have helped you during your kinky adventures?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, “You don’t know me that well!”
“I’m gonna lose my deposit,” you griped. “This is the worst day of my life.”
“You are so dramatic Y/N,” Taehyung replied, “How can this be the worst day of your life?!” he demanded, “What about the day Donghyun broke up with you and pushed you head first through the five stages of grief?”
“Donghyuk,” you corrected. Taehyung made a face at you, contorting his handsome visage into something that made you let out a loud laugh, visibly showing he did not give one fuck about what your former boyfriend’s name was.
“It’s not a complete loss, Y/N,” Taehyung murmured. 
“Why do you say that?” you asked. 
Taehyung placed those devilishly sexy and large hands on your waist pulling you closer to the edge of the table to where he was seated besides you. You gasped at how his grasp almost entirely circled your waist until his widespread fingers were millimeters away from meeting each other. “Ever had sex with the owner of a tattoo parlor?” he breathed, his deep voice purposefully gravelly and husky. 
“No,” you murmured, hardly daring to believe that Taehyung returned your affections. The long buried feelings from your secret crush on Taehyung all those years ago, erupting once again in your heart.
“You don’t need to get piercings to make it fun, Y/N,” Taehyung tantalized.
“You’ll tell me about the seventh piercing?” you confirmed.
Taehyung barked out a laugh. “I’ll do you one better,” he murmured, “I’ll show you where it is.” He finished off with a rakish wink.
“Can I kiss you?” you asked, hands already moving forward to cup his chiseled cheeks and jaw within their grasp.
“Hold on one second,” Taehyung chuckled, peering at you playfully as he looked up at you from where his face was in between your palms. “I gotta do one thing first.”
Taehyung went to remove the metal clamps from your poor neglected nipple that had gone slightly numb from being within its confines this entire time. “My poor Y/N,” Taehyung softened his tone as he rubbed your breast to bring back the feeling. “I’m sorry for not doing this earlier.”
He ducked his head, his plush lips wrapping around the abused peak as he soothed it with warm wet licks and light suction. You let out a high pitched sound and then choked when the cool metal ball on his tongue slinked against your sore nipple as he twirled his tongue around the flesh. He was uncharacteristically gentle though he was spitting against your breast and spreading the welcome coolness around the hard peak.
You let your hands go up to his head, fingers raking themselves into silky soft black waves, holding him into place while he worshiped your chest. Soon, Taehyung switched over to the other breast, enveloping it in the warm wet heat of his mouth, as well. He was much rougher this time as he didn’t have to be careful. His teeth grazed the hard bud, nipping the nipple lightly as you found yourself letting out endless keens.
“Fuck,” muttered Taehyung finally pulling himself away, “How are you this sensitive and responsive? You would’ve had such a rough time with the aftercare if you had gone through with this.”
You shook your head, ignoring his question. “Taehyung!” you whined instead, “I need you.”
Taehyung scoffed lightly as a pleased smirk marked his lips. He ripped the purple gloves off, flinging them onto the side table. 
“Will you let me eat you out, Y/N?” he asked. “I’ve been dreaming of it ever since I saw those snaps on your private story for your 21st birthday.”
Your brows furrowed. For your birthday your friends and you had gone down to Cabo since it was close to spring break. You hadn’t even realized Taehyung was on your private story. Your brother Jimin certainly wasn’t. You had posted everything from videos of you skinny dipping with your friends in the hot tub, to full length mirror selfies of every itty bitty neon colored bikini you had worn on the trip. 
“I’ve had fantasies about you too,” you admitted as Taehyung’s hands slid down your waist to hug your hips, fingers digging into your charcoal gray leggings, ready to pull them off. 
He looked at you curiously, “Since when? Was I your sexual awakening?” he teased, his cheeks full in his joy. You wanted to bite those bread cheeks but you controlled the impulse.
“Hardly,” you retorted, “I was dreaming about Min Yoongi before I ever thought of you. But he graduated and went away for university. And you had that wavy silver brown hair. You looked so hot in your old school hiphop outfit you’d worn for Halloween senior year.”
Taehyung narrowed his eyes, “I was always hot, Y/N. It’s cute of you to deny it. But wow headbands really do it for you huh? Is that why you ran up to your room when we started watching It? I thought it was because you were scared. Had I known that you were sneaking away to shove your hand in your panties–” he trailed off.
“You would have what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
Taehyung hit your hip lightly with his fingers, more tap than slap, making you lift your bottom so that he could drag the dark colored athletic fabric down your legs. 
“Why don’t I show you?” Taehyung said. 
With your leggings down to one of your ankles, completely off of the other, Taehyung took a hold of your thighs, swinging your legs around so they hung over the side of the platform you were seated on. You were facing him now, but he was so tall that even with the small boost your seat offered, you were eye level with him. He slid back the stool he was on, moving it out of the way. Then he sank to his knees so that his head was at the perfect height for the treasure that laid between your slightly parted thighs. 
With his left hand still grasping one of your thighs, he used his other hand to prod at your folds over the drenched fabric of your black seamless panties. His forefinger and middle finger stroked at your opening, hunting for your clit, slipping over the sodden fabric over and over. When you were so wet that his fingers went away, picking up enough evidence of your arousal that a transparent string clung to him before finally breaking off, Taehyung decided to move the panty off to the side, revealing the swollen dripping folds of your cunt to him. 
“You’re so pretty, gorgeous,” he sighed, “I want to feast on you.”
His fingers were curiously spreading you even more, parting the furling petals to your entrance, revealing the pretty wet hole to his hot seeking gaze as it desperately clenched around air, wanting something bigger and more substantial to close around.
“Taehyung please,” you pleaded, your fingers knotting into his unruly hair, as you attempted to move his head closer to your cunt.
Taehyung dipped down, his lips pursed at first, almost like he was kissing you down there, but he soon found his pace, tongue wildly thrusting into the hole and gliding over the folds. As he lapped at your entrance, he hummed in pleasure, rejoicing in the sweet poignant taste of you. 
As his tongue ran over your folds and the engorged bud of your clit, you shuddered and trembled. It had been so long since someone had eaten you out. You had been broken up with Donghyuk for two months, but it had been even longer since the last time he had gone down on you. 
He tongued at you curling the tip of his wet muscle to urge more of your juices into his open mouth. You tasted like heaven, “You’re so fucking sweet,” he furiously growled into you, his baritone sending vibrations through your most sensitive part. “I love your reactions. I could eat you out for hours,” he hissed.
When his teeth nipped at the sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out his name, babbling senselessly, mad with pleasure. He wrapped his lips around it, sucking tightly at the bud. Your eyes rolled back at the pressure, the stimulation almost unbearable. You felt the prodding of two long fingers invading your entrance even as his lips continued its merciless assault on the swollen bud. 
“Taehyung!” you panted. Your fingers were almost digging into his scalp. “I can’t stand this!!”
Your back arched as he scissored his fingers furiously within you. His teeth and tongue were sloppily pursuing their war on your heated and engorged clit.
“That’s it Y/N,” murmured Taehyung huskily, “Give yourself to me.”
His fingers reached deep within you, dragging against your folds that gripped around it like a vise, clenching and unclenching in stuttered movements. He groaned at the tightness, the vibrations of the sound echoing through your opening, your clit fluttering at the stimulus.
“Another finger,” you susurrated, your words chased by loud keens and moans.
“Yeah?” Taehyung breathed out, “You think you can take that? I can barely even move the two I have in you now. Your pussy is clenching around me so much.”
“Want it Tae. Need it,” you babbled, “Need to prep for that big cock you’re hiding.”
Taehyung exhaled loudly through his nose, the gust of air falling over your oversensitized core. “Yeah, you dirty girl? You wanna prep for my fat cock? You need it,” he admitted. “I’m gonna destroy your tight little cunt,” He growled.
With another nip of your clit, this one harsher and more toothy, he stuffed a third finger in you, frantically pumping them and curling them to drag against the taunt muscles of your inner walls. The appendages were stretching you out gloriously. You closed your eyes as you edged head first towards your orgasm. Taehyung’s tongue danced over your folds, stimulating them even further. 
He breathed through his nose as he ate you out even more enthusiastically; he had been going at this for a long time but it would be worth it. His cock was a hard and heavy weight against the confines of his constricting dark jeans. You whimpered, lightheaded and overheated as the pressure at your core continued to build. You were stuffed to the brim with his nimble slender fingers pushing savagely in you. 
All it took was a swipe of his long tongue over your bud, the metal sphere of his piercing a hard heaviness digging into your clit, as his fingers found your g-spot and hit it brutally, and you let out a shrill scream, immediately gushing like a flooding waterfall. There were black dots in your vision as the edges of your eyes gathered with tears. You panted as you continued to squirt over Taehyung’s trapped fingers, drenching his hand with the evidence of your orgasm then trailing down his wrist. 
“Fuck,” swore Taehyung, “You fucking squirted. That’s so hot, gorgeous.”
He reluctantly moved his hand away from you, licking a wide stripe across his palm, tasting your sweetness, still not tired of your delectable release. What he didn’t consume, he wiped against the butcher paper covering where you were seated. You had your hands splayed besides your thighs, needing help to keep yourself upright. Your gaze drifted down to your crotch where the paper was sopping wet, dark, and translucent from where you had squirted all over it. 
This was why you never had sex in public; you were already getting a headache at the thought of Taehyung having to clean up and sanitize everything before his next appointment.
“Hey what’s wrong?” asked Taehyung, getting up from his knees. His hand went to his belt, unbuckling the black leather and loosening it around his hips. He undid his button and zipped open his fly, finally freeing his aching hard cock from the confines it had been resisting against.
You stared at his erection, pressing against the band of his underwear. “Is this really okay?” you asked.
“Going soft on me so fast?” Taehyung teased, “Thought you were gonna prove to Dongkyung that you were fun and freaky. I bet he’s never had sex outside of the bedroom.”
“No,” you protested, “I still want to. I just– I just wanted to make sure you were still okay with this.”
“Oh,” murmured Taehyung with a ravenous glint in his eyes, “I’m thrilled about this. I want to destroy you in a way that has you limping after. I want your pussy to have PDD, never wanting another cock.”
“PDD?” you asked, repeating the acronym with confusion heavy in your tone.
“Post-Dicking Depression,” Taehyung clarified with a faux condescending tone. You could hear the laughter in his voice that he tried to keep in.
“I don’t know if I want to have sex with a man who refers to it as me getting dicked down,” you scoffed, wiggling your butt backwards to move away from Taehyung who scowled and quickly moved his hands from his pants to your hips, holding you in place.
“But you want a dicking from me,” he sing-sang, “You used to have fantasies about me.”
“I used to have fantasies about Flynn Rider, that means nothing,” you retorted, your hands placed over his.
He narrowed his eyes, “That says less about me and more about you, gorgeous.”
He palmed his heavy cock through the cotton fabric of his briefs. 
“You sure you wanna stop right here, Y/N? Don’t wanna go for another orgasm?”
“I can’t leave you hanging,” you acquiesced easily, “Golden rule of reciprocation and all that.”
“You don’t always have to give back what you get in sex,” Taehyung frowned, “It’s not a business transaction, it’s a group effort. As long as we both enjoy ourselves, you don’t have to worry about me, Y/N.”
“You don’t want to have me?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, “You seemed really enthusiastic about it earlier.”
“I’m dying to have you, but I only want you if you want me,” Taehyung clarified, his baritone wafting into your ears soothingly.
You smiled up at him, even though you were naked in this room that might have his assistant or coworkers knocking at any moment, even though he was completely dressed while you were not, you still felt comfortable with Taehyung. You put your fingers through the belt loops of his partially opened jeans, dragging it down his hips, over his ass, stopping midway on his thighs. Taehyung watched you, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard with the heat of his lust, thick dark brows furrowed as he bit his lips.
“Please, Tae?” you asked, “I want you. I want the heavy fucking that has me walking side to side afterwards.”
Taehyung snorted, “‘4.5 when I make the bed shake,’ huh.”
“Ariana is a legend,” you gasped, outraged at his little quip, your hands falling from where they had been clutching his ass. 
Taehyung just gave you one of his gorgeous boxy smiles that left you breathless before he went to free his fat cock from the cotton confines of his underwear. His cock bounced once it was free from its bounds, his length even more thick and imposing than you had imagined when you were sixteen, slipping your fingers down your throat and choking on them, pretending they were his dick instead. 
It was impressively girthy and you knew your fingers wouldn’t be able to wrap around it and touch at the ends. The mushroom head was flushed burgundy. The seventh piercing winked at you, a curved steel barbell turned towards you as a part of his king’s crown piercing that was threaded through his head, running along the ridge of his shaft. Your mouth watered - the tip of his cock was glistening with precum and you wanted to whirl your tongue around its bulbous head like it was the tastiest lollipop. 
“Taehyung,” you pleaded, your fingers going towards his crotch. 
Taehyung gently slapped your hands away. 
“Uh uh,” he chastised. “Behave, gorgeous.”
You spread your thighs apart, knees up and feet flat in front of you as you sat up with your hands wrapped around your calves, holding your legs open. Taehyung took hold of the meaty softness of your right thigh and pulled you towards him, settling in between you, his cock bouncing lightly, the tip brushing against your entrance as he used his hands to pull your legs around him. Your hands let go and fell backwards and you splayed your fingers and palms behind you to balance your weight as Taehyung carefully situated your lower half, pulling your hips up to be aligned with his so that he could easily slip in and out of you.
He slapped your flushed and swollen cunt with his cock, the proof of your orgasm mixing with his precum. After a few slaps, he finally began to guide his shaft into you. For a moment there you didn’t think the fat bulbous head would be able to breach your entrance even with how wet you were as your tight glistening hole protested around it, but a firm push later he was sheathed. 
“You like that, gorgeous?” he growled, “You feel that? You’re gonna wring me dry when I cum inside, aren’t you? Gonna creampie this fucking pussy. Have your beat up cunt leaking my cum for hours.”
You whimpered as your mouth sought Taehyung’s lips but couldn’t. Instead you found your tongue licking up a line up the bare expanse of his neck, tracing the lines of his tattoos, your lips following their path, leaving bruising kisses and kittenish bites. He moaned and his head ducked down, moving his throat away from you so that you could finally kiss him. At first your tongues twirled around each other, but Taehyung was a messy kisser. His teeth were soon nipping at your lips and his tongue was thrusting in your mouth, licking the insides of your cheeks, the roof of your mouth, not letting you pull away to breath and leaving you lightheaded. 
Taehyung slowly pushed himself in and out, not going more than an inch or two within you, giving you time to get used to the fullness. He was so thick, your walls were clamping around his girthy length like a vise and he was struggling to move, but the movement he was able to make had you keening and whimpering as the round ends of his piercing jewelry dragged against the ridged muscles of your walls, making them spasm uncontrollably at the feeling. 
As you grew wetter and wetter, your desperation increasing exponentially, Taehyung found himself getting lost at the sensations, thrusting faster and more erratically until his control was so frayed that he could no longer hold himself back. He slammed into you, the thick heaviness of his cock stealing your breath away as he was impaled within you. You tried to catch your breath but he continued to jerk inside you, the piercing hitting your g-spot and making you scream as white spots appeared in your vision. 
His pace then grew progressively more frantic and Taehyung found himself holding you up with his sheer strength which left you breathless at the display of power; you were no longer on the table, he was fucking you standing up. Your legs were wrapped around his hips and your head was at the side of his face, pressing kisses against his jaw and nibbling up to his ear. Your moans were an echoing throaty vocalization in his ears, making them burn as a pool of lust gathered in his gut and made his abdomen tighten. Meanwhile, your hands were flitting across the expanse of his back, under his shirt, leaving long scratch marks in their wake as your nails dug into his skin every time Taehyung thrusted a little too hard, his fingers pinched your clit, or his piercing found that glorious g-spot.
“God, Tae,” you panted. You could feel him so deep inside you that as you glanced down you saw that your tummy was bulging a little bit and you had to wonder if it was because of him. You pressed down on your stomach experimentally and then you both gasped as your walls clenched tightly around him, rhythmically pulsating around the entire length of his shaft, keeping him connected to you. 
Taehyung hadn’t forgotten your tiny clit, although it was swollen and not as little now. He thumbed at the responsive bundle of nerves; the pressure from his finger had you on overdrive, hyper aware and feeling like you might go ballistic at any moment. Your mewls were like music to his ears and propelled him forward, making him plunge into you so violently. You were bouncing on his length, your legs loosening slightly around his hips from the force that came with every time he rammed into you.
For your safety, he lowered you down to the table you had been sitting on earlier, making your back flat against it as he had one hand by your head holding him up, keeping himself from crashing into you, and one hand wrapped around your hip, snapping it up to meet his every thrust. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper and he found himself slowing down to enjoy the feeling of your folds fluttering around his shaft as he dragged it through your walls deliberately, penetrating you acutely. 
He was holding himself back, he didn’t want this moment to end but at your surprised cry when one of those thrusts hit your g-spot particularly hard, you suddenly gushed like a broken faucet around him, and then clenched his cock tighter than you had ever before, even as the stream of cum cascaded all around his shaft. He grunted before following you in your wake, the heat of his own release leaking out of his tip and mixing with yours. 
Somehow Taehyung was still hard around you, you noticed with surprise as your legs fell with no strength left in them, no longer making your body cling to Taehyung’s. You stared at him in confusion, your eyes wordlessly saying, What now?
Taehyung licked his lips, his familiar grin appearing sheepishly. “Ride me, gorgeous,” he dictated.
He hadn’t let you remove his cock from inside your pussy and he picked you up, holding you beneath your thighs, his fingers brushing against the cleft of your ass as he moved you two around so that he was now seated with you on top of him. 
One of your hands fluttered against his chest as you got used to sitting on him, the other was holding onto his shoulder. You inhaled deeply, your hands going up to stop his head from moving so that you could kiss him punishingly, neither of you parting to breath for long interminable moments. His fingers threaded through your hair that had long since fallen out of its bun, holding you in place, so that his lips could chase yours easily every time you tried to break apart from him.
He helped you with the first move, his hands gripping your hips and his long fingers dimpling into your skin as he moved you up, almost entirely off his cock that dragged enticingly along your folds as it slipped away, before slamming you back on his lap with enough force to have your teeth knocking against each other. 
You braced yourself with your palms on his chest, fingers curving over the broad length of his shoulders, slowly lifting yourself away from his dick before quickly and forcefully bringing your ass down, reluctant to let him withdraw completely. Each time you brought yourself back onto his cock, Taehyung snapped his hips up, impaling you with his thick impressive length. His fingers were bruising into your hips with how hard he was holding you in place. 
Your movements were erratic and feverish, following no rhyme or reason, only seeking fullness and release. He had you writhing on top of him wantonly as your hips swiveled to meet each snap of his, until his cock was hitting you again and again vigorously. But it wasn’t enough; he wanted to give you more. So Taehyung found himself squeezing two fingers into you alongside his cock, filling you even more than you had thought was possible, bordering on the side of painful. His palm was positioned up so that it was pressed against your clit. And with every bounce and jerk on top of him that had his cock and fingers moving deeper within you, his palm pressed against your puffy bud stimulating you endlessly. 
You screamed as you sprayed around Taehyung, coming again. As you writhed against Taehyung’s body, his arms kept you wrapped in his embrace, keeping you from injuring yourself, pulling any muscles accidentally. Your cunt was reluctant to release its grip on Taehyung’s cock, holding onto him tightly, and he found himself grabbing your hand, borrowing it for a second to have you squeeze his balls. And then Taehyung felt himself cum for the second time that day. He shuddered into your chest as his balls emptied themselves, getting lighter as streams of his warm cum shot into you, painting your insides with lines of white. 
You mewled at the feeling, wiggling on top of Taehyung in discomfort. He chuckled huskily, an airy yet throaty sound. Carefully, he withdrew from you, using one of his hands to keep the cum from pouring out from between your legs, his palm against your entrance keeping the hot liquid trapped inside you. After a moment he moved his palm away so that his fingers could play around in your folds, pushing the cum into every divot and crevice, the pads of his fingers massaging it in and then his fingers went back inside you, swirling the cum around your hole with his fingers messily. You let him play around, rubbing his mark into you even though it was fucking filthy and gross, but when his fingers brushed too close to your battered clit, your inner thighs spasmed with your muscles jumping, you found your hand frantically pulling at his wrists attempting to pull him away from your exhausted and overworked pussy.
“Taehyung, stop!” you whined. 
He glanced back at you sheepishly. “Sorry,” he murmured, an apologetic tone painting his words, “I got distracted.”
You snorted, “Yeah, you did.”
Taehyung pulled you off his lap and sat you down beside him, from in between your parted thighs, your pussy leaked out the mixture of both of your cum out onto the ripped and mangled butcher paper that looked as though it had gone through the wringer. Taehyung stood up to grab a bundle of paper towels from his work station and came back with them, bending down in front of you and starting to clean you up. Once he was done, he looked back up at you.
“I’ll give you back your deposit, Y/N. Don’t get the piercings today, okay?” he said, “And when you finally feel like you’re ready to modify your body for the right reasons, you can come back here and I’ll do it for free. A piercing, a tattoo, whatever the case. Just– just don’t think you have to change for a man. You are perfect as long as you like who you are.”
Your eyebrows dipped down in confusion as Taehyung stumbled over his words, painstakingly attempting to make sure that you understood him and realized that he liked you and you should like yourself too because you were perfect and no man was worthy enough to make you change. 
“Why for free, Taehyung?” you asked instead, uncomfortable at his sincerity.
Taehyung smiled nervously, “Well if you’re dating the owner, it’s the least I can do. Don’t you think so?”
“Who says we’re dating?” you teased, pulling him closer to you, making him stand between your legs.
Taehyung pouted and then huffily said, “Fine, have it your way. See if anyone in the Tri-State area takes you as a client then. I’m getting you blacklisted from everywhere so Jimin doesn’t kill me when he finds out you want to look like Post Malone.”
“Post Malone?” you questioned, laughing uncontrollably. “Taehyung, why would you offer to help me if Jimin would kill you instead of those other tattoo artists?”
“Girlfriends hold more weight than best friends,” he said mulishly, slumping forward and resting his forehead against your sternum.
“Yeah?” you asked, quilting your fingers through his hair, scratching at his head comfortingly.
“I’m also in love with you,” Taehyung confessed, turning his head so his ear rested against your chest. He could hear your heartbeat, you realized with a panic, and how it stuttered at his reveal. But his arms had slowly wrapped themselves around your form and you couldn’t find it within you to push him away.
“Really?” you asked needily, needing the confirmation.
He hummed, “I would do anything for you.”
“I think I’ve been in love with you too,” you admitted as well. You suddenly shoved against him. “It was you,” you accused.
“Hmm,” muttered Taehyung, instantly knowing what you had meant, “I can’t help it if I’m beautiful and you kept fantasizing about me while dating Dongbyun.”
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This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution - Non Commercial - No Derivatives 4.0 International License
©OPALJM 2021
3K notes · View notes
lavishedinjimin · 9 months ago
kinky hours masterlist
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— all drabbles are 18+. for adults, by adults, about adults. all are for f.readers!
— do not repost anywhere outside of tumblr. 
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rules before sending a request 
mean daddy jk denies sub!reader of his touch/name-calling/degradation
OC asks for kisses during sex and jk finds it adorable
stressed jk getting pissed off at OC’s attitude/manhandling/ball gag
crybaby™ jk x reader/ jk licking the tears off of OC’s cheeks
criminal!jk x officer!reader/kidnapped/imagine butter era jk’s concept photo vr.2
brat tamer jungkook/punishes reader for being a spoiled brat lol
sub!jungkook is tied up/giving him oral/tracing his arm tats with your tongue
ex-bf jungkook/argument turns into hate sex/reader cheated on namjoon lmao
hand kink/making origamis with daddy!jk/gagging
single dad jk/apologizing that he fucked you too hard/babysitter reader
crybaby™ jk x reader but OC uses her safeword
daddy jk takes care of you after not having sex for weeks
he finds out that you’re a Little/daddy!jk
cumming inside you without protection/creampie kink
eating you out with whipped cream
dom!jk/dirty talk/window sex
reader squirts and jungkook’s “give me more”
atgggth™ jk/eating pussy/whiny reader
jk fucks you while standing
spitting in mouth/overwhelmed reader
dom!jk/bratty reader
crybaby!jk/anal play with sub reader/ddlg 
jungkook finding your moans adorable
softdom!jk/rainy ambience/dirty talk/cuddling 
chubby reader/rough sex/praise
horny jk comes home while you’re cooking
crybaby™ jk/reader wearing cat ears and tail
riding jk’s thigh while spooning
overstimulation/clit torture/squirting
dom!jk pinning you down as he fucks you
daddy jk and his corruption kink
soft jk but reader wants it harder, hmmppp >:(
clit overstim/tied to the bed
hard dom jk/rough sex/jk fucks reader ‘inhumanly fast’...haha
passionate sex/lotus position
jk fucks reader gently and deeply™
ddlg/first time riding dom!jk/praise
blowjob while on the phone/punishment/degradration/jk meanie 
hard dom!jk/humiliation/subspace/big dick jk haha
reader does jk’s makeup as she rides his cock
daddy!jk/small reader/praise kink/size kink/wearing his baggy shirt
daddy!jk is handcuffed to the bed by babygirl  
dom!jk is jealous so he gives you hickeys
slapping/spitting in reader’s mouth/degradation/rough/choking
jk catches reader humping her pillow with his jumper on
punk jk fucks reader on her parents’ bed
crybaby™ jk and his love for eating pussy/spitting/descriptive
thigh riding/degradation/choking/spanking/hair pulling/whatever
overstimulation/reader tells jk to stop but he doesn’t listen
cockwarming/”move and i’ll take my fucking cock out of you”
punishing you in front of the members/degradation
dom jk fucks you mercilessly in front of a mirror/rough
having your first time with dom!jk
jk comes home to reader fucking herself/punishment/size kink/daddy
fucking you roughly while the members are around
dom jk/cocky jungkook energy/slow down by chase atlantic/descriptive
cockwarming :D
punishing you after you came without his permission
reader says she’s ‘too heavy’ but jk proves her wrong/against the wall
jungkook trying his spanking kink out on you
holding your thighs while he eats your cunt
dom!jk manhandles reader/virgin kink
tae walking in on you riding jungkook’s thigh
crybaby™ jk/reader got her nipples pierced/descriptive
testing out his pain kink on you/face slapping/biting/choking
taehyung finding the wet squelching noises cute iykyk 
bad boy™ tae gives you hickeys in public/possessive tae
dom!tae/mutual masturbation/voyeurism
werewolf!tae asking you to run because you disobeyed him
lactation kink/slight mommy kink
pushing your head against a pillow bc you’re too loud
sweet hot tub sex
taehyung uses his ties to play with you
reader cheats on jk while fucking taehyung
mutual masturbation but ends up fucking anyway lol
ddlg taehyung/size kink
bad boy™ taehyung teachers reader how to blow
the start of bad boy™ tae x young reader ;)
movie date with a remote control vibrator/dirty talk
dom!tae/nipple play/hand kink
tae fucks you while you’re asleep/spooning
ddlg/tae is jealous of you spending your time with other guys
cockwarming while he’s gaming
soft dom!tae/praise kink
bratty reader/rough/pissed from all the dating rumors
tae makes you wear a ball gag
taehyung fucks you in a pool
getting heated with tae in the pool
ceo!taehyung/secret relationship/some spanking
fucking you sensually while Singularity plays in the background
tae x reader x namjoon/impreg kink/who can get her pregnant first
tae walking in on you riding jungkook’s thigh
bisexual reader/jimin gets jealous from you fangirling over a female idol
jimin getting on his knees/you’re standing during oral
dom!jimin corruption kink/condescension/jimin and his kendo agenda
jimin edges you with a bluetooth vibrator in public 
making fun of jimin’s small hands until he shuts you up 
cockwarming with jimin while he works out
jimin releasing his pent-up stress on you
sub!jimin x sub! reader x dom!namjoon
softdom!jimin/swallowing his spit/praise kink
poly dom!jimin x dom!yoongi x sub!reader
truth or dare/bts taunting jimin that he can’t make his gf cum
softdom!jimin/cocky/reader says he’s the biggest she’s ever had
softdom!jimin/readers sits on his lap and he bounces her up and down
dom!jimin/use of vibrator/edging/denial/squirting
jimin and his corruption kink/small!reader
jimin makes you sit on his face for being bratty
controlling your vibrating panties at dinner
hard dom!hobi/pissed off that you accidentally said his name instead of ‘daddy’ during sex
hobi getting annoyed that you keep moving during oral
werewolf hoseok in heat/mentions of impreg/slight blood mentions
tattooed hobi x curvy reader/praise kink/loving degradation
daddy hoseok/trying to get his attention while he’s on the phone
softdom!hobi/fucking you in front of the practice room’s mirror
masochistic hobi punishing reader
namjoon discovering your pinterest board full of kinky shit
wolf namjoon x bunny hybrid reader/bunny gets lost in the forest o_o
dom!namjoon uses a spreader bar on you/squirting/degradation
giving joon oral under the desk bc he’s stressed from working
dom!namjoon x sub!reader x dom!yoongi/spitting kink/spanking
daddy namjoon fucks you while you’re both high/marijuana intake
namjoon spits in your mouth/wall fucking
sub!jimin x sub! reader x dom!namjoon
namjoon and creampie... yum
namjoon punishing reader/overstim/degradation
softdom!namjoon/size kink!!
daddy!joon babies reader to be intimate with him 
edging with joonie and his babygirl
sucking him off while he’s on vlive
servant namjoon x princess reader/bending her over the desk
tae x reader x namjoon/impreg kink/who can get her pregnant first
butt play wohoo/no peneration/just thumb on butthole typa’ thing
PUBLIC. BUS. SEX./cockwarming & grinding/slight exhibitionism/honestly this is just so hot
distracted by his hands/fingering you against his piano/hand kink
sitting on yoongi’s face + overstim
pet play/kitten play with yoongi
innocent s/o never masturbated before/virgin reader/size kink
dom!yoongi x sub!reader x dom!namjoon/spitting kink/spanking
breeding kink/pregnancy kink
poly dom!jimin x dom!yoongi x sub!reader
hard dom yoongi
hand kink omfg
dom!yoongi/bondage/using a dildo on you
yoongi shows off his tongue technology/cunnilingus 
reader wears vibrating panties in public
seokjin ruining your orgasm/putting the vibrator inside your panties
yoga with seokjin/ahh yes, the downward dog/cunnilingus
dom!seokjin fucking you in front of a mirror
ball worship!!
lactation kink with seokjin aaahhhh
teasing seokjin until he snaps/big cock seokjin agenda
dry humping/cumming in his pants
daddy seokjin takes care of you after weeks of not having sex
asking jin if he can choke you
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— since 2020.
11K notes · View notes
gukyi · 8 months ago
love me or we both go down | kth
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summary: after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.
{enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au}
pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, smut (i know, crazy right?) word count: 32k warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, multiple unprotected sex scenes (they’re married y’all), fat cock tae, tae has a wife kink, lots of praise, alcohol consumption (but they’re safe), minor character death (not explicit), mentions of heart attack, slow burn like there is no tomorrow a/n: hello and welcome to the fic everyone, literally everyone, has been waiting for! i am so, so, so excited to share this with you all, especially because none other than rose @kinktae​ helped me write the smut, and i am literally forever indebted to her. you all better go spam rose with all the love and support you can because this fic would not be here without her and i love her so much. 
also, to all my readers who aren’t comfortable reading smut, please know that the smut in this fic is not imperative to the storyline, and you skipping past it will not affect your reading experience., enjoy!
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Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.
The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 
With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 
Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?
If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 
Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 
You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.
As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 
The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.
The doors open. 
You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 
Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.
Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 
When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 
This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.
There can be no sneering here. 
“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”
This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.
The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 
“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”
Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 
But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 
Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 
The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 
When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 
He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”
And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”
When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 
The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 
“Ugh, finally.”
The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.
“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”
“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”
You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”
“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 
The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 
You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 
If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 
You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 
“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 
“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”
You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 
“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”
“Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 
You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 
Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 
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Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 
Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 
To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.
Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 
“But the place is nice, right?”
You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 
“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”
His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 
“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 
“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”
“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 
“I mean…”
“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”
As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 
He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 
If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 
“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”
Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 
You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.
Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 
It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 
And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 
And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 
It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?
You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.
Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.
You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 
What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 
You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.
Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 
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Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 
Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 
Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 
When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 
Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 
Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.
By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 
If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.
But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 
“What’s our plan for tonight?”
Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”
You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”
“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 
You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 
“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?
Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”
“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”
Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”
“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 
He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”
“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.
“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”
The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 
The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 
Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 
The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 
You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 
For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.
Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.
“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”
The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 
Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 
“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”
“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”
You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 
“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”
Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 
“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”
Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 
Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”
You resist the urge to scoff. 
“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 
“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”
If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”
“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 
“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 
You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”
It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 
The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 
“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 
“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”
“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”
“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”
“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”
You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 
Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.
“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.
“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.
“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”
“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”
“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”
Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”
“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”
“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”
You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 
Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”
You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 
Then, a camera flashes.
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Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 
You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 
You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 
“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 
“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 
“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”
“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 
Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”
“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 
“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 
“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 
“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”
“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”
“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”
“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 
You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”
“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?
“Your grandmother.”
Your mouth shuts. 
“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.
“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”
You freeze in your tracks. The will?
“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?
You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”
Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”
She hangs up. 
There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 
At least the feeling is mutual. 
Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 
“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”
You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?
“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”
“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 
“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”
“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”
“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”
Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”
“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”
That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 
“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 
“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”
“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”
“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”
“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 
“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 
“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 
“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 
You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”
“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”
“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 
“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”
Fair enough. 
“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 
Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 
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For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 
Like right now. 
“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 
“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 
“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 
You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 
“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”
You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 
Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”
“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?
“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 
You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 
By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 
Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 
“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 
“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”
“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 
Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 
You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 
“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 
“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”
“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 
“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”
Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”
“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”
“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”
You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 
The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 
You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 
You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 
“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”
“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 
“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”
“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 
“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?
“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 
Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”
“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 
“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 
“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”
You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 
“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 
You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 
Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 
“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 
“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”
“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 
“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”
You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 
“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”
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You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 
Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 
When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 
But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 
Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 
To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 
“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 
“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”
“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 
You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”
Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?
As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 
He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 
“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”
“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.
The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 
“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 
“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 
Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”
“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 
“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 
“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”
“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 
“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 
“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 
“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”
The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 
“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”
Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 
“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”
“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 
Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 
The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 
Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?
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“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 
“Hey,” you respond. 
“You look nice.”
You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 
“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 
“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 
You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?
He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 
You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 
“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 
“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 
Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 
“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 
“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 
You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 
At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 
If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.
It’s just life. 
Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 
And that makes you happy. 
The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 
Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”
The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 
“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”
Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 
“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”
“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”
Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 
The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 
When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 
“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”
You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?
“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 
“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”
“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 
You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”
Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 
You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 
“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 
You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 
Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 
When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 
Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 
“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 
“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 
You fall asleep instantly. 
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When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 
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“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 
“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”
“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”
“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 
“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 
You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”
“He wasn’t?”
“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”
It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 
You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 
He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 
“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 
“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”
“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 
“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 
Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”
“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 
Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”
“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 
“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 
You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”
“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.
“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 
“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.
“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 
“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 
“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 
“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 
“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”
“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 
Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 
“There,” he says, a moment too late. 
“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 
You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 
After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”
“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 
You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 
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Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 
“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 
There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 
For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 
Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?
Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 
“Y/N? You still up here?”
You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 
“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 
“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?
“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 
Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 
It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 
“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 
“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 
“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 
You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 
Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 
The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 
When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 
By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 
“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”
“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 
“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 
You grin. 
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The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 
Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 
And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 
“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 
“That sounds nice,” you force out. 
“Okay. Your usual?”
“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 
“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 
What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 
But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?
“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”
His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 
“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”
“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”
You look at him skeptically. 
“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 
You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”
“Maybe a couple of years ago.”
You narrow your eyes. 
“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 
“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”
“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 
“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”
“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”
Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 
You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 
“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 
He’s your husband.
“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 
You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 
But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 
Tomorrow will be better.
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Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 
Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 
You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 
Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 
Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 
You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 
Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 
And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.
An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?
You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 
Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 
It’s an art studio. 
A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 
Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?
You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 
Who knew he loved it so much? 
You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 
That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 
“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 
“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”
“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 
Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”
“Didn’t we both agree on that?”
He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”
“The fine print of what?”
“That deal we made.”
Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 
“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 
“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.
“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.
“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 
“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”
“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 
“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 
You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 
But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 
And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 
Who’s to say you can’t learn more?
“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”
Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 
“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 
His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 
Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”
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The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.
The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?
For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 
To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 
“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 
The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”
“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 
“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 
“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 
“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 
One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 
Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 
“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 
“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 
“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”
“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”
“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 
“You are?”
Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”
You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”
“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”
“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”
Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 
You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”
“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”
“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 
Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 
“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 
“A museum curator.”
It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 
“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”
“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 
“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”
Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”
You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.
“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.
Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 
In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 
“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 
“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”
“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 
“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”
“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 
“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”
“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 
“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”
Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 
Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 
“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”
You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 
“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”
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For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 
But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 
You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 
“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 
“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 
Taehyung grins. 
Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 
You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 
“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 
“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 
“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”
“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”
You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”
“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 
“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 
He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”
“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 
“About what?”
Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 
“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”
“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 
“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”
“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 
“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 
Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 
“And what did I say?” You demand more. 
Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”
“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?
“You did. Don’t you remember?”
You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 
Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 
Of him saying—
“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”
Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”
“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”
“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 
You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 
“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 
“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”
Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 
And closer. 
And a little closer. 
Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 
Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 
Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 
You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 
“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 
Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”
“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”
“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”
“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.
“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”
“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.
There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 
And he understands that now, things are different. 
“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”
You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 
You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.
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There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 
This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 
The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 
“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 
You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”
“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 
“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 
“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 
“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 
That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 
Something that makes you want more. 
You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”
Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”
He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 
You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 
Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 
There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 
“Tell me something,” he demands. 
“A fact. Something I don’t know.”
It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”
It’s enough for him. 
This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 
Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 
Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 
When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.
"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.
It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.
You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.
"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.
Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.
You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.
Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.
Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 
You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.
 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.
You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.
"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.
"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."
He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"
Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...
"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.
You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.
You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.
The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.
Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.
He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.
There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.
You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.
"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.
You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.
You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.
"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."
Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 
He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?
"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.
Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.
Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.
Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.
He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.
"Open up for me," he orders.
And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?
Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.
"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.
It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.
A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.
You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.
Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.
"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.
You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.
Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.
"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 
He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?
"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."
"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 
"Fuck's sake."
You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.
Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 
Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 
You both are. 
Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 
"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 
Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 
"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 
He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.
"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.
To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.
You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 
You want him.
You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.
"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.
"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.
You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.
You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."
Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.
"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."
You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.
Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.
"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.
You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.
You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.
He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.
"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"
He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.
God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.
"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.
You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.
You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.
You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.
"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.
If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.
Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.
You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.
Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.
Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  
"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.
"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.
"I’m grateful, too."
"I’m grateful for us, too."
Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 
You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”
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Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 
You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 
A late morning call, then. 
Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 
After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 
You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 
You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—
“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”
And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 
You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 
He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 
“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 
“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”
“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”
“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”
“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”
“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”
Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”
Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”
“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”
“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”
“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”
“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”
“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”
“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 
You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?
The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 
“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”
“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 
Well, that makes two of you. 
“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”
They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 
Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 
When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 
“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”
“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”
“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?
“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 
A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 
“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”
“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?
“I know,” you whisper back.
You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 
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Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 
“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 
“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.
Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 
Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 
You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 
It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 
But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 
All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 
“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 
You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”
“Have you even called your parents?” 
“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 
“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 
There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 
Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 
And then there is nothing. 
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”
Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 
“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 
You peer over. 
It’s Taehyung. 
Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?
He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 
“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”
Oh, God.
Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”
“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 
“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 
“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 
Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.
So why not lie?
You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.
“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 
Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 
You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?
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Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 
The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 
Why would he lie? 
Why would he do that?
You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 
So then, why do it at all?
Could it… could it be?
Is it true?
You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 
Does he really love you back?
Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 
When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 
Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.
 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 
You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 
Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 
Or so he thinks. 
You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.
My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.
And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 
Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 
And there he is. 
“Wait! Taehyung!”
Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 
And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 
You know that everything will be okay. 
“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 
Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 
And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 
It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 
You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 
“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 
“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 
You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 
The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 
One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 
But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 
The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 
“I missed this,” you say softly. 
“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”
“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 
“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”
“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 
“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”
“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”
You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 
“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”
“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”
“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 
You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 
Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 
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It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 
There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.
The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.
Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.
Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?
It makes it all worth it.
"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.
You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.
Taehyung swallows.
"Do you?" You tease.
His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 
Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.
"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.
You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 
"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 
"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.
"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.
"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."
"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.
You giggle.
It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 
"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.
"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."
“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 
"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."
God, you love this man.
You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 
"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.
Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.
"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.
Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.
"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.
Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?
Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.
"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.
"Yes, please."
The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.
Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.
You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.
"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.
It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.
You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.
Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.
He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.
"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.
His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.
His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.
“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.
Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.
“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman
Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.
You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.
Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.
“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.
You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 
“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.
He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.
Faintly, you realize. 
That was the first time you had ever told him that.
You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 
“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.
Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.
It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.
You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.
Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.
You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 
Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.
Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.
“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 
“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 
Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”
“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”
“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”
“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 
“And you are mine,” you murmur.
As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 
“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 
He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”
And so it was. 
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don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!
7K notes · View notes
taegularities · 2 months ago
changes in between | jjk (m)
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Summary: “Does that mean that I can kiss you now?”
Becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into - but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life.
pairing: Jungkook x reader (+ some Taehyung x reader)
rating: 18+
genre: roommate au, s2f2l; some crack, fluff, angst, smut
warnings: pining, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, fear of the dark; explicit sexual content: multiple smutty scenes (one’s milder and with tae), slight exhibitionism lol you’ll see, soft dom!jk, big dick!jk, fingering, oral (f. & m receiving), handjob on the side, breast play, jungkook sucks some tiddies, some masturbation, dirty talk, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), voice kink lol, some finger sucking, praising, biting, soft manhandling, soft sex and rough sex, cockwarming at the end?, some aftercare; jealous jk :( ... jealous tae :(, jk calls oc a flower <3
word count: 24.7k (sorry, please do still read lmao)
a/n: hi, there !! all hail @taemaknae​​​​ who hit me up with this ingenious idea some time ago and had me intrigued right away. consider this a belated birthday gift, baby, i really hope you like it and i’m SUPER NERVOUS ABOUT IT LMAO :’) this trope is smth entirely new to me and i’m shaking in my boots here - so please let me know what you guys think !! enjoy the freaking awesome (!!!) banner nicole made, pls the talent T_T
betas: @voiceswithoutlips​​​​ @missgeniality​​​​ & @hobiandsprite​​​​, thank you for your suggestions, endless help and for always letting me yell and whine in the dms :’) i love you guys to bits x
uploaded to AO3, too (for those who prefer pdfs or mobile readings!)
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➳ listen to the CIB playlist for the full experience!
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His eyes keep closing.
You know sleep is washing over him slowly, but all you can do is watch him intently - because even after numerous pleas and annoyed shakes of your head, he is still standing here, back leaning against the wall and wobbly legs carrying him god knows how.
You know that you would’ve definitely given in to the tiredness and weakness by now, understanding exactly that you become a victim to gravity anytime you drink too much. And from what you can tell, he is entirely wasted.
“Jungkook, honestly…”
His head shoots up at your words and he looks at you through half lidded eyes, the exhaustion written in them so clearly that you wonder what is giving him the power to still stay this stubborn. Instead of answering, he smirks as he looks past you, rolling his eyes and burying a hand in the pocket of his jeans.
“Y/N, honestly,” he imitates, the mocking in his quiet voice so apparent that your gaze darkens, “You’re just too scared to talk. You always are.”
“I’m not going to talk to you like this.”
Jungkook scoffs, back arching from the wall as he approaches your figure near the couch. With two idle steps, he closes in, fingers slowly coming up to your chin to meet your frustrated stare.
It’s not the first time he’s touching you like this. After weeks and months, you’ve gotten used to his affection, his presence close to one of a best friend - a soulmate even - and comforting to a pleasant extent. But at this moment, his hand on your face feels suffocating.
Not in a bad way. But more in a can-you-hear-my-heart-beating-for-you way.
If you think about your situation carefully, you might be able to pinpoint when you started feeling this way. Maybe it was before Taehyung - or maybe it just began a few minutes ago. Either way, you hate that you’ve let it come this far, and the way his gentle, sparkling eyes smile at you doesn’t help your ability to keep yourself controlled much.
“Tell me I have no effect on you.”
His voice is covered in honey as he gauges your reaction. The thumb stroking your jaw is cause enough for you to exhibit the effect he is talking about - the goosebumps on your arms and the unintentionally escaped gasp are surely enough for him to interpret your heart for what it feels.
This effect has been prominent for quite some while now.
But maybe it’s smartest to rewind to the beginning of your story.
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Everytime you get nervous, your fingers start fiddling with whatever they can grasp the fastest.
Although your right palm is already holding onto your phone for dear life, your left one is clutching your sweater, the fabric a little too warm for spring. The suffocating feeling brings a tight knot into your throat, one that you try hard to swallow as you finally press the dial button on your phone.
The beeps ring endlessly, and you’re close to hanging up again before a friendly female voice answers. “Hi! Jeon speaking, how can I help you?”
Your grip around the blue fabric tightens and you bite your lip for a second before you say, “Uh, hello. Good day. My name’s Y/N Y/L/N and I’m calling because of the online ad of the apartment you put up for rent?”
“Yes!” she chimes immediately, and you hear shuffling in the background and something moving that faintly seems to resemble the uncomfortable squeaking of a chair. Her enthusiasm puts you at ease - at least she’s not grumpy like the past few people you have called; her tone seems promising and instills hope that you might finally end your eternal search for an ideal place to live.
Since you received the bill for your last flat, your nerves were on edge at all times, the fear of being thrown out and landing on the cold, unforgiving streets ever lingering. The woman you’re speaking to now has a promising alternative though - a perfect place for young adults and those who are in desperate need of a cheap, yet livable apartment.
“I was expecting your call! Thank you for your email and time. So uh - jumping right into it! Two bedrooms, a counter that separates the living room and kitchen with the latter being big enough for two people to work in, a tub and washing machine in the bathroom. I know it’s hard to find something that fits all your needs, but I’m positive this might satisfy you.”
She babbles on some more, tells you about promising aspects of the apartment - and you listen, noting down the pros and contras mentally before you finally chuckle and remark, “Yeah, you see, my current flat has broken windows and a barely functioning air conditioner. It’s expensive and fails in so many areas. At this point, I’m happy with anything that just secures a healthy life.”
“Perfect!” she exclaims, her happiness never faltering while even more paper shuffles in the background. In your head, you imagine her fumbling with pictures of the apartment, trying to remind herself of its features while she advertises the place to you further. “Luckily, there’s already a fully working air conditioner and you won’t have to suffer this upcoming summer.”
This deal sounds good enough to you - until now, she hasn’t named a single factor that might shatter your hopes, and the way she’s talking about the apartment nearly sounds like a passion, a promise she could give without disappointing you. So maybe-
“However, there’s something you might be interested in knowing,” she finally tells you, and your heart stills for a split second as your lips part, your mind dropping dozens of possible scenarios on you that might make you reconsider your decision after all.
“Yes?” Your voice nearly trembles and your eyes shake, your heart thumping in your throat as you imagine another failed phone call and anxious thoughts filling your brain.
She doesn’t help with her dramatic pause, sighing slowly before she finds her gentle voice again and explains, “It’s a shared apartment. You’d have a roommate. But before you decline-”
You are very close to declining. You’re one to live alone - a lone soul wandering through the world and then coming home to a silent room, no noise save for your humming and lo-fi music. But then again, this apartment seems perfect - it’s not only close to your college and job at the mall but offers the opportunity of sharing rent, too. If you thought living there was cheap already, then you’d thrive and swim in money if there was a second person to help you out.
“-he works, too! He just finished his studies and is currently a part-timer at a grocery store before starting his actual desired profession. You wouldn’t have to ever fear being alone - he’s reliable and a good person. I’m sure you’d get along well!”
A sigh leaves your lips as you squint, head tilting while your eyes focus on the sink that is neatly placed in the bathroom of your working place. You wet your lips as you consider your options; but you soon realise that there are no counter-arguments other than your selfish demand to stay alone that would sound logical enough for you to say no.
“What’s his name?”
“He’s my son!” she answers, the insecurity in her voice vanishing as she gathers her convincing tone again, “His name is Jeon Jungkook.”
Jeon Jungkook.
A pleasant name. You wonder whether living with him would be just that, too.
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Apparently, Jeon Jungkook hasn’t returned from his vacation with a friend when you arrive at the apartment, the inside of it still fairly undecorated and dull as you inspect every room. Although you already took a look at the flat’s inner life a few days ago, you’re again struck by the smell of fresh paint, euphoria growing inside you as you realise that you have ten whole days to think about the interior design you want your room to bloom in.
It’s a pity that you don’t know about Jungkook’s taste - and you’re still too reluctant to ask. In any other case, you would’ve already come in with various plants and plate sets, flowers and quotes smoothly decorating the dishes in various colours.
In front of a complete stranger, however, you don’t want to appear strange right away, and you know exactly that quite a number of people question your taste in putting meals on heartfelt, deep quotes.
The afternoon passes fast, your busy mind and chores around the apartment keeping you in check. The ten minutes you spend looking for a spider surely contribute to passing the time effectively as well before you finally let your exhausted body fall on your mattress. Now might be the first time in around two hours that you’re gripping your phone again, eyes widening when you see multiple missed calls and texts light up on your lockscreen.
And strangely, they’re all by your soon-to-be flatmate.
Curiosity rises in your chest as you think back to your conversations - never did he bother to call you, both of you comfortable with and sticking to text messages solely. You unlock your phone as you go through the three messages he has sent.
Jeon Jungkook [3:06 PM]: Hi, Y/N!
Jeon Jungkook [3:06 PM]: Call me whenever you’re free! Need to talk about something.
Jeon Jungkook [3:10 PM]: It’s sort of urgent.
Your fingers flutter over your screen as you think about what to do next. You’re sociable on usual occasions, not one to hide behind a shy butterfly personality. But something about calling him makes you nervous - you’re sure the main culprit is the picture his mother sent you not long ago. Although it was fairly blurred and taken from way too far away, you could see right away that he was a handsome man - you wonder whether his voice is just as alluring as his appearance.
You clear your throat for a moment before you press the dial button, taking a deep breath as you put on a smile on your face that he won’t be able to see anyway. And then, he picks up and quite literally knocks the breath out of you.
Not seldom have you heard your friends talk about their fondness of attractive voices; a concept that has been entirely incomprehensible to you until now. For you, a voice sounds annoying or it sounds pleasant - not sexy.
But Jeon Jungkook’s deep, melodious voice proves otherwise, a strange spark igniting in you when you hear him say, “Y/N, hey! Finally!”
He’s laughing, a breathy, soft chuckle that doesn’t indicate annoyance in any way, although he has every right to be pissed, considering the fact that you’re calling him back almost two hours later.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s Jungkook! I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you. I figured you were busy doing stuff at the apartment.” You hear a voice announce a station in the background, and you feel like you recognise the name of the place, the faint familiarity telling you that he isn’t too far away.
“Ah, yes. I just finished. What’s up?”
He hums for a second, lost in thought as you stare at the dust floating in the air; and then, he talks again, the voice of his mother nothing compared to his honey covered one. “I know I told you I was going to arrive in ten days, but the trip was cut short and I’ll be there this evening! I’m switching trains right now and should be there in around three hours.”
Three hours? From ten days to this?
“Oh! Oh okay, uh- do you want me to prepare anything?”
You’re already on your feet, dozens of thoughts floating through your mind as you hear him pant. From what you perceive, he’s running, the bustling chaos and constant announcements around him so loud that you lift your phone away from your ear.
“No, no! Just wanted you to know. I can bring some dinner if you’d like. What’s your favourite food?”
You scramble your mind for your comfort meal, immediately remembering that it has been weeks since you’ve last eaten your dinner for lazy days. “If it’s not too troublesome for you - how about chicken strips with fries today?”
Jungkook chuckles a little, doors closing around him and muffling the noises temporarily as he says, “Sounds good. I’ll bring some on my way.”
And after that, your nerves go haywire for a whole long while. Living with someone isn’t that big of a deal - you know that. But moving in with someone you know nothing about? Downright terrifying.
Pacing through the living room doesn’t help, you notice that sooner than expected. Concentrating on your hair and make-up seems to calm you down; mostly, because your appearance resembles that of a scarecrow. But finding the make-up at all is a menace, every eyeliner and lipstick you own laying in multiple places and nearly impossible to find as the seconds tick by.
By the time Jungkook finally arrives, all you can concentrate on is the beast that growls in your stomach, the hunger so overwhelming that you nearly sprint to the door when you hear three firm knocks. The fact that you were lying upside down on your couch just a minute ago is immediately forgotten when you open the door, your hair sticking out at some parts as if you’ve just woken up.
But who could care about that anyhow if the literal representation of a Greek god is standing at your doorstep, carrying bags full of food and a smile that knocks the air out of your lungs? Whatever pictures you’ve seen of him, they do no justice to the out-of-this-world existence that is now shifting from one leg to another, greeting you with a saccharine sweet grin as he eyes you from top to bottom.
“Y/N!” he finally says, his voice so much smoother and lovelier in reality than it could ever be via call.
“Jungkook,” you answer, swallowing the knot in your throat before you realise that you’re ogling him entirely rudely with your lips turned downwards. Mustering a smile, you continue, “Nice to officially meet you!”
Going good. At least until now.
Of course no good thing can last - because as soon as the words leave you, you lift your palm to give him a handshake, too soon noticing that his hands are fully occupied. Although it has been barely a minute since you opened the door, you render yourself completely useless as an integrated part of society.
Every social skill leaves you before you disguise your faux-pas as a helpful offer, taking the bags from him gently as you step aside to welcome him in.
“Nice to meet you, too,” he answers, oblivious to your awkward action as he takes in the inner state of the apartment. And then, he looks at you again.
God, Jeon Jungkook is a three-course-meal.
Staring at him nearly makes you forget you’re hungry at all, instead craving so much more than just common food as he watches you with these mischievous eyes. Something behind them tells you that he might be thinking the same, because when you place the bags on your counter and let out a shaky breath, he’s closer to you than before.
He puts his palms on the counter next to the dinner, glancing directly into your soul before he says, “You’re... so pretty.”
Your blood flow seems to stop for a moment as you feel your brain short-circuit. For someone you’ve known for only a hot minute, he makes it easy for you to spiral into a near neanderthal stage, suddenly forgetting how words work before you pull yourself together and somehow manage to answer, “It’s the… make-up.”
And then a shrill laugh leaves your lips, one that dies down immediately when the noises of the opening bags overshadow you. Jungkook’s smirk doesn’t falter as he lays the boxes of food in front of you before he brings his arms down and balances his weight on them.
“I mean, I’ll see pretty soon what you look like without make-up, right? Or do you sleep with it on?”
You furrow your eyebrows at him, calmness slowly falling over you as you get rid of the nervosity you felt all evening long. “Of course not.”
“See?” He lifts his body again, tapping the counter a few times before he grabs his portion and approaches the couch. “How do you like it here so far?”
“It’s cozy. I didn’t get to see your room yet, but if it’s anyhow similar to mine, then you’ll love it here,” you explain, plummeting onto the chair in front of him as you eagerly open your box of food. “Oh, I actually experimented a little with the dishwasher and the washing machine. They’re super easy to use and have some great functions.”
Jungkook laughs again, bunny teeth on full display making you join for a moment before he questions, “That’s what gets you going, huh? Laundry stuff.”
You look at him with a playfully offended look as you shove some fries into your mouth. Words die in your throat as you taste the incredibly greasy food, your expression slipping for the tiniest of seconds before you collect yourself again. Telling him now that he chose an entirely wrong place to buy dinner from seems too rude - so you guess, you have to endure whatever stomach ache this might bring.
“Tell me you don’t like clean clothes.” You try to eat when he looks away, but to your chagrin, he never does. Maybe he really does find you pretty.
He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, sniffling as he tells you, “If it was up to me, we’d just go back in time and run around naked.”
You tilt your head when you realise that he isn’t joking, biting your lip at the thought of him being entirely bare before you shake the picture away again.
Don’t fucking imagine this stranger naked, Y/N!
“You really don’t seem to have a filter in your brain.”
He shapes his mouth to an O, bringing a hand to his chest. “Me? What gave that away?”
People are usually not difficult to crack. In your case, most of your acquaintances became acquaintances after you flashed a sweet smile in their direction, exchanging some interesting words until they felt comfortable, home. While you always find yourself at the giving end, it feels different to be the receiver of this feeling - because no matter how short the time was that he’s been here, you feel relief wash over you. You’re sure Jungkook knows how to make his conversation partners like and love him.
“Anyway, these strips and fries are horrible,” he suddenly says, and your eyes widen before you let out an uncontrolled laugh. He joins immediately, endeared by the sound of your voice as he tells you again, “I’m serious! Do you like them?”
“No,” you admit truthfully through your giggle, placing your dinner on the table, “Pretty gross, gotta say.”
“You have to tell me that next time!” he exclaims, gleeful sounds filling the room as you throw your head back, loving the irritated expression that creeps up his face. When you look at him again, you see crinkles around his eyes, small dimples forming on his cheeks and crescent eyes sparkling in the warm light of the living room.
“You know,” you begin when your laughter finally stops, “you’re very handsome, too.”
Jungkook scoffs before he picks up his chicken strips again, shaking his head in disbelief. But the blush on his face is clearly visible to you, even with his head hanging low, beautiful and sweet to look at as you decide that you are already fond of your new friend.
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As it turns out, Jungkook is a pleasant flatmate after all. His tired groans and the sound of the dishes wake you up in the morning; in the evenings, you always come home to the sight of him either playing a game or eating something while watching TV. Most of the time, he keeps to himself and leaves some food for you in the kitchen - and you’re more than satisfied with this.
It only occurs to you two weeks after sharing the four walls with him that Jungkook is utterly and incorrigibly lazy. While you’re a diligent student who keeps track of her laundry and makes sure to wash the dishes on days you’re assigned to, he does not. More than once do you catch him drifting off into sleep with the whole washing basin overflowing with dirty plates and pots, and waking him up always seems like an option you shouldn’t give in to, considering that he is still somewhat of a stranger.
Until today.
It’s the middle of the night when you nearly crawl into the kitchen with half opened eyes, your hands searching for your favourite cup to quench your unbearable thirst. Saturdays are for Jungkook to take care of the pile in the sink, but when you attempt to place the cup under the running water, a loud clang shakes you awake as your eyes shoot open in the darkness.
A sigh leaves your lips as you calm down from the noise, frustration growing hot inside you before you place the cup on the counter and march to Jungkook’s closed bedroom door. Your fist already halfway in the air, you prepare for a scolding speech - but then, you lean in, and even through the thick wooden material, you can hear his soft snores.
You might be angry, but you’re not cruel. Despite all his mess, you know that he works hard, bringing in money for half the rent and groceries, and he definitely deserves to rest at least at the weekend.
Maybe it’s smarter to confront him in the morning when you’re relaxed, less irritated and in a friendlier mood.
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But the friendlier mood soon evolves to sheer annoyance when you see him walk out of his room and throw his dirty shirt onto the couch chair - the one that is only inches away from you as you sip on some coffee and eat your beloved toast with jelly. 
Jungkook has a habit of running around half naked; at first, you were baffled by his shamelessness, and the fact that he didn’t care what you saw surprised you each day you woke up. After the initial getting-used-to-your-hot-flatmate process, you can now merely roll your eyes at him as you place your plate on the table and call his name.
“We should talk.”
He halts in his steps, fingers running through his dishevelled hair and eyes squinting as he looks at you through his tiredness. And when he turns to you fully, you nearly choke on your own saliva.
No underwear. You’re sure.
His sweatpants hug his waist smoothly, the fabric accentuating not only his strong thighs but the clearly visible bulge behind them as well. Okay. Maybe you lied. Maybe you aren’t used to his appearance after all.
You try to avert your eyes from the obviously gracious package as quickly as you can, but the slight smirk that creeps up his face speaks volumes. You feel heat rush to your cheeks before you clear your throat and motion him to sit down next to you.
“What’s up? How are we this fine morning?” he asks as he falls back into the couch right next to you, his body way too close to yours and the loose muscle in his pants bouncing way too much at the impact of-
“We’re good. But we could be better.”
Jungkook leans back against the cushions, head tilting as he opens his eyes entirely, slowly getting used to the light of the day. A glance over to the sink shows the still untouched dishes, and you inhale deeply before you explain the situation. He listens carefully, doesn’t even judge you when you seem to complain about numerous things in one single breath - and when you’re done, he places a soft hand on your shoulder, a genuinely apologetic look gracing his features.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” he inquires, squeezing your shoulder lightly. It feels good - nearly like a massage…
“Because we barely know each other,” you mumble, trying hard to get your mind out of the gutter as you look into his soft, melting eyes. “I didn’t want to come across as if I had a stick up my butt.”
For whatever reason, his eyes shift down to your mentioned body part at your words, settling there for only a moment before he brings his right leg up to place it over his left, the crooked smile so cocky as he says, “Y/N, we live together. We probably will for quite some time. It’s fine to complain when you’re annoyed by something I do.”
“I get that but-”
“I’m serious,” he interrupts, patting your back once before he stands up again, “I know I can be difficult sometimes, so please let me know when you’re bothered. Ever.”
He buries his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, graciously moving the fabric in a way that you can cleanse your thoughts. Taking idle steps forward, his eyes settle on the mountain of dishes, but before he reaches the kitchen island, he stops in his tracks, turns around and shoots you a rueful look.
“I’m honestly sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he admits - and for some odd reason, you falter at his following smile immediately, every annoyance fading as you take in his genuine words.
Whatever effect Jeon Jungkook already has on your emotions and your body has you questioning every doubt you ever had about living with someone.
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As exhausting as the thought of doing chores seemed only a few weeks ago, conversing and getting to know Jungkook is a whole new pleasant experience; a process you embrace openly as soon as you start to understand his mind, hobbies and words. 
It turns out that Jungkook is easy to excite, a bundle of happiness that takes what life gives him; talking to him feels adventurous even in the comfort of your walls, and not once has he managed to not make you laugh about one of his dumb jokes.
And as much as you appeared to be the cute, innocent woman Jungkook met for the first time one month and a half ago, the more he gathered that you’re a loud mess that literally never shuts up. Sometimes, he wonders if you have a filter in your brain at all - and each time you prove that you don’t, he can’t help but look at you in the most endearing way.
Your gentle and yet fierce personality definitely makes it hard for him - and he notices way too soon.
“Look,” he mumbles one evening as you both attempt to cook a newly found recipe. He redirects his attention from the pot filled with rice to your pan, taking the spatula from your hand before he skillfully works his way through the chicken pieces. When he does it, his movements seem so elegant, different from everything you tried to do.
While you’re not the best chef you know, you mostly get the minimal effort done, enough to feed your hunger for the day. But when Jungkook lifts the pan and takes care of the sizzling food in the pan, you stare in awe - if a man while cooking isn’t hot, then you don’t know what is.
“If you keep your eye on the whole meal, you can make sure it doesn’t get burnt. Look, this one,” he explains, pointing at one specific piece that already looks way too overcooked, “was at one spot for too long. Don’t forget to flip.”
The fact that he’s explaining the most basic aspects of cooking to you, should be awkward to you. But something about Jungkook’s behaviour and treatment never allows you to dwell on your mistakes for too long; with him, you always feel more human than you ever have, like you’re allowed to be flawed and short on knowledge in specific areas.
He always assures you that it’s alright to not succeed on the first try. In hindsight, you feel guilty for calling him out the way you did; and on top of everything, about something as small as dirty dishes.
“Open your mouth,” he orders, his fork spearing a piece of meat on it before he brings it to your lips.
“Wow, there are other ways to flirt.” You let out a giggle as you accept his offer, hissing as you throw the scalding food around in your mouth.
Oh, there’s that, too.
Since you and Jungkook have become comfortable enough around each other, your flirting skills have shot through the roof, the subtle jokes and lovely words bringing you closer with each day. Your friendship blooms like your plants do, and it’s almost as if you’re seeing your own progress according to how fast your succulents grow.
“Shut up,” he says before shaking his head, nodding to your mouth as he continues, “If I wanted what you’re suggesting, I’d have my ways to get it.”
You almost choke as soon as he mumbles these words, a breathy laugh leaving his chest when he takes in your shocked expression.
“Two can play the game, lovely,” he tells you, wiggling the fork in front of your face before he turns off the stove. Wiping his hands on the apron, he takes out two plates, shooing you away from his workplace before he ends the cooking process.
One thing you must admit is that everything Jungkook does apart from playing games or watching TV, he does well. In that sense, you have caught him singing from the top of his lungs multiple times, his voice remaining angelic no matter how ridiculously he tried to sing.
He also clearly knows how to move his body, dancing skills so apparent that you feel almost bad joining him at times. You don’t know how to move to save your life.
He shovels some rice into a small bowl before he carefully places it upside down on a plate. Slowly lifting it, you see a perfect igloo-shaped mountain of rice that he decorates with a single leaf of coriander before placing the seasoned chicken around it. He repeats the whole thing as you watch in awe, baffled by the effort he’s putting in your dinner while you’re always one to messily pour food onto your plate and get done with your meals in a heartbeat.
“And voilà!” Jungkook says proudly, presenting you your plate with a wide smile as he hands it to you. “Bon appetit!”
As he repeats the process for himself, you make your way to the couch to place your dinner on the table, waiting patiently before he joins you with a smile as if you’ve complimented him. “You can start first, you know?”
“I like to wait,” you tell him, but as soon as he sits down, you start drooling, quick to set the plate on your lap before you dig in.
He chuckles at the sight as he takes the first bite with you. For a moment, you both hum, nodding in a satisfactory manner before you turn to look at each other.
“Amazing,” you admit, gathering some of the leftover sauce from your lip with your fork. Your cheeks are glowing nearly as brightly as your eyes from the relentless heat. Jungkook’s mind drifts off for a second too long as he takes you in - it’s neither the first time he gets lost in you nor the first time of you not noticing.
“You’re amazing,” he answers in a heartbeat as he averts his eyes, focusing on his deliciously crafted chicken again. “And thank you. A very carefully developed hobby of mine.”
He moves his head as if he’s hearing music in his head and his body moves slightly in a way that faintly resembles lazy dance moves. They say that when someone dances while eating, it’s someone to keep - and Jungkook proves that now. He isn’t just handsome - he is an entire package, sassy one day and adorable the next.
“Cooking, you mean?” Jungkook just nods in response to your question, still dancing to the tune of nothing as you continue. “That’s great. It’s important to have at least one hobby.”
He finishes his bite before he looks at you, nodding again as he ventures into an even deeper conversation, “Especially when it’s in some way important to you. Like - do you know these types of hobbies that just feel so sacred and personal to you, though you know half the world is doing it? Like drawing or uh, I don’t know, pottery?”
“Ah. Yeah, I know what you mean. And cooking is just that for you?”
“Mhm,” he makes, your eyes shifting to his already half empty plate while you’ve only eaten three bites, “what about you? Is there something like that for you?”
In some ways, thoughts like these have even crossed your mind on multiple occasions when you chased your little hobby in your leisure time. It’s fascinating for you that Jungkook feels similar, even if it’s about something as mundane as cooking.
“When I was still in elementary school, my teacher would always gift me a little book with simple poems at the end of the school year. They were just a few lines long and super easy to understand, but my little Y/N brain perceived them as incredibly deep and… strong.”
As you tell him your past tale, he listens intently, maintaining eye contact with a constantly interested gaze as you ramble on. “And I guess this hobby grew in teenage years…”
“Oh, were you one of these edgy teens who read short quotes about dead, bleeding roses and faded love?” Jungkook interrupts, laughing heartily before he puts his plate down and leans back on the couch comfortably.
“No,” you deadpan before you click your tongue; but then you join in his laughter, the shake of your head expressing your simultaneous exasperation and adoration, “I liked Poe and Angelou… a lot of basic poets as well as smaller ones. But yeah, this is probably a hobby I cherish just ‘cause…”
You squint, trying to think of the right words as Jungkook waits, and when you finally find a way to explain, he sees a bulb light up above your head. “Yes, because it always felt like it belonged to me. Like the poems were my possessions. Similar to what you said - half of the world reads these things. I’m pretty sure everyone knows Emily Dickinson. But when I crawled into bed and memorised the lines by reading them over and over again? It felt like it wasn’t the world with its poems but me with these small stories.”
Much like every word orbited around you back then, Jungkook feels his thoughts spin around you. The further you decide to speak, the more he realises that you’re more than just an assiduous student - because your mind runs deep, and your intellect as well as your emotions lie on a pedestal that’s way too high up for him to reach.
He knows it’s probably not smart to put anyone up there - after all, egos shoot up in no time, and people only stay humble for so long. But with a sweet creature like you, it’s hard to not see the beauty of the universe and beyond that you as a being capture so effortlessly.
“That’s an amazing way to see things,” he says quietly, the atmosphere in the flat so serene that you feel your whole body relax, “And I bet those poems love you just as much.”
You giggle lightly, sighing as you bring the fork from your lips back to your plate. “Literature knows only love and comfort without an end.”
“But,” he moves closer to you before he nudges your sides, stealing a piece of chicken as he asks, “what if I told you I don’t know about Emily Dickinson?”
“Then I’d say you’re lying.” You look into his stern face, a gasp escaping you as you move back. But then, he starts laughing, crinkles appearing around his crescent eyes again before you slap his shoulder painfully. “Oh, shut up.”
“Maybe I’ll make annoying you my new personal hobby,” he tells you, ducking a little when you throw a soft cushion at him. He stands up a second before you hit his chest with another pillow, playfully groaning as he hurries to protect the tableware from your sudden attacks.
“And that’d actually be something that belongs to me only!” you hear him say from where you sit, your head falling back as you fall into a spiral of laughter again.
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While the world changes around you and gardens bloom even brighter than when you moved in, your apartment seems to go through similar changes as well. The old couch that stood in your living room has long been replaced by a beautiful, white, faux-leather one. Even the rusty TV that barely allowed you to read the subtitles on Netflix has been sold by Jungkook’s efforts, and instead of it, you gather in front of a flatscreen every weekend.
By now, nights like these have become routine to you both: after interacting less than you want to during weekdays, you mostly crawl into your rooms after work, the comfort of your soft mattresses everything your body longs for at the end of the day. But now that your semester is finally done and summer holidays have approached, it’s easier for you to give in to leisury pleasures.
Jungkook? Not so much.
With his job at the grocery store, he’s busy even on weekends, the only relaxation for him being when he settles on the couch with you or meets his best friend Jimin for a drink or two.
In that sense, you were at first all ready to watch a Ghibli movie of his choice tonight before a heavy storm hit your town, forcing you to return to your rooms and watch the seconds tick by. While you suggested moving ahead with your plans, Jungkook declined, the rainy weather and incessant noise of lightning dampening his mood too much to enjoy the night.
You can’t blame him for his decision - the expression he wore when he came home drenched was one of a wet poodle: helpless and annoyed, entirely pissed off that the weather forecast didn’t inform you of obviously heavy rain today.
As if this isn’t enough, the light in your peripheral view starts flickering as you lay on your bed, your brain contemplating whether you saw it actually happen or just blinked for a few seconds too fast. But then, the light shuts down entirely, and you’re stuck in full darkness before you hear a collective “Oooooh!” through your open window.
You sigh before you turn, burying your face in the pillow and readying yourself for sleep, the hopes of a better morning already high. Because at the moment, you can’t do much more anyway - your idiotic self didn’t charge your phone, the battery almost dying and every other device in your apartment turned off now. The fact that you don’t have a generator in case of a blackout doesn’t help with cheering up your mood particularly.
Soon, you hear three knocks at your door, and after a muffled permission, Jungkook steps into your room. Lifting your head, you notice that he’s using the flashlight of his phone, the painful illumination blinding you as you groan.
“Jungkook, fuck. Turn it off!”
“Y/N,” he whispers back, a contrast to your loud complaint as he leans down impossibly close to you, “you’re still awake?”
“Just pretending.” He places his phone upside down on your night table, lighting up the room enough for you to see his forlorn doe eyes staring at you in something that almost looks like… fear?
You sit up instantaneously, placing a hand on his and pulling him down onto the edge of the bed as you ask, “Are you okay? What happened?”
“I- uh,” he starts, rubbing his face in exhaustion. “Is it okay if I stay here for a while? We could talk. Or play a game as long as my battery lasts?”
You’re still holding his hand, and he relaxes under your touch, entirely sure that you’re not even noticing how your thumb is grazing his skin softly. As his heartbeat slows, he looks at the way the worry is so plainly plastered across your features, and before he can find out why this affects him as much as it does, he feels a sting in his chest. When you nod without questioning him in the slightest, his shoulders fall - nearly as if a weight has been lifted that he carried with him for too long.
You don’t have to be the most Einstein-esque genius to realise that Jungkook doesn’t like the darkness - the way a faint light always glows from under his door at night is telling enough.
You lay back down on your pillow as you try to distract him, listening to the sound of the rain before you ask, “Did you eat?”
He nods. He tells you that he’s thankful that you made the lasagna today and left some for him too, soon delving into details about how the meat was cooked perfectly and the lasagna sheets soaked thoroughly, not one bit still raw. You’re happy he’s the one talking - you mostly feel like your attempts to cheer up your friends fail miserably whenever you try.
Thankfully, Jungkook is excessively into cooking and rambles on, your eyes soon falling shut as you listen to his voice as if it’s a lullaby. And when he notices, he squeezes your hand a little, never letting go of it before he whispers, “Do you want me to leave? You must be tired.”
Your eyelids flutter open before you yawn, shaking your head violently as you pull him down, although he isn’t even in the slightest implying that he intends to stand up. He almost falls on you, his shoulder landing right next to your head and eliciting a coughy laugh out of him as you apologise.
“Don’t leave. It’s fine. Tell me how you feel, though!” your half sleepy voice demands. He can’t help but stare at you in awe - somehow, you’re even prettier when you’re drowsy like this.
Teeth worry his lower lip for a moment before he jokes, “I’m fine. But you seem to be in a cuddly mood.”
“Mmmh,” you hum, flashing a grin in his direction as you raise an eyebrow, “What if I say I am?”
Yes - you flirt all the time. Even if it’s just to tease and without real feelings behind it (or so you think). But when he actually brings his legs up with a grunt and lets your hand go to pull you into his chest, you gasp audibly, eyes shooting open in shock entirely.
“Come on. You’re tired. I’ll just stay here until you fall asleep and then leave, okay?” he assures, words so soft and his voice coated in such a tender tone that you feel your heartbeat increase. Slender fingers settle on the small of your back, and you bring your own up to place them on his strong bicep.
You nod against his chest, still wordlessly wondering what confidence overcame Jungkook to find yourself in his arms like this. But maybe, you think, he finds comfort wrapped around you, too - because his heart thumps steadily against your ear, his hands tracing your back up and down soothingly.
“Are you really okay?” you ask him again.
Jungkook sighs; even when he tries to take care of you, you’re worried about him, thinking of every way possible to make him feel better. He noticed this behaviour in you a while ago - especially on days when you paced through all the rooms, calling your family or friends over and over again when they caught something as harmless as a cold.
“I’m alright.”
You feel him bury his mouth in your hair, the phantom touch of a kiss sending shivers down your spine as he whispers, “I promise.”
Silence falls over you shortly, his breathing and the rain serving as pleasant background music as you feel your body relax. His fingers draw circles on your shirt before he pulls you closer by a bit. His chest rumbles when he speaks again, vibrations in your ear so soothing, so lovely.
“Do you have a poem for me?”
The question catches you off guard. No matter what you expected him to say now, it wasn’t this request. You search your brain for lines he might like, but the sheer amount of love, hate, sadness, family, friends and society poems that flash through your mind have you malfunctioning for a second.
“Which one?”
“Any poem. I want you to tell me one.”
The floating images in your head come to a halt as you settle on one of your favourite poetic pieces and zoom into the paragraphs you love the most. You clear your mind and your throat, trying to keep yourself awake and picking out a few lines as you recite, “Thy belt of straw and ivy buds, thy coral clasps and amber studs. All these in me no means can move, to come to thee and be thy love.”
You stop, gauging his reaction as you look up at him. His eyes open when yours meet his face, and he smiles down at you sweetly and with unleashed kindness in his pupils. A small nod encourages you further, and when he asks you to go on, you place your ear back to where it was before.
“But could youth last and love still breed, had joys no date nor age no need,” your words become slower, your voice a mere mumble as you start to drift off into sleep, the last two lines leaving you nearly as if you’re drunk, “Then these delights- my mind might move... to live with thee and be thy…”
And then, you’re gone, dozed off against his firm chest as he sighs again, arms loosening around you before he finishes your sentence.
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To think that Jungkook and you would get even closer after that or take one or two steps further was a foolish thought of you, no doubt. Because even now, you think back to the morning after when you woke up to an empty bed, the mattress beside you cold as you blinked into the too bright morning sun.
“How do you feel?” you’d asked when you saw him,  merely receiving a thumbs up as he smiled with a mouth full of cereal. He never approached you regarding last night, never even talked about the touches you’d shared.
With everything you started thinking about him and your relationship, things felt intimate; almost not as if you had been strangers just two months ago. But with your routine settling in and life going on, it soon became evident that Jungkook was destined to be your best friend. One who understands, lets you live, lets you make mistakes and learn.
Someone who you know you can rely on when days become gloomy and have fun with when you get overzealous to try something specific.
And that’s it. Not more, not less.
You sigh as you stroll through the supermarket, glancing at the prices of fruit as you realise that right now is not the time to overthink anything that relates to your flatmate. Instead, you direct your frustration towards the overpriced strawberries, the number shocking you enough to complain out loud, surrounded by innocent customers.
“This economy won’t even allow me to enjoy fruit in peace.”
As soon as the brain outage happens, you glance around, pressing your lips together apologetically until you hear a deep laugh behind you. You’re ready to pout at the man who’s enjoying your misery so blatantly, but when you turn around, you face the brightest light in the universe personally.
His hair is smooth, dark, beautifully shiny as his full lips curl into a breathtaking smile. With eyes inexplicably deep and intense, he looks at you in delight, and you feel your legs give out before you remember that you’re in no place right now to collapse like the idiot that you are.
Superficial, that’s what you are.
You shut your inner voice up as you listen to the stranger explain, “Don’t buy them in this market. There’s another one around the corner, a way smaller shop with way better strawberries.”
“Ah,” you say, blinking a few times before licking your dry lips, “is that so?”
“I swear! Besides,” he tells you, stepping closer to inspect the package you’re holding, “you never know what they inject in these. Better to stay safe.”
You don’t tell him that bio-fruit is even more expensive than these and that his statement of getting them cheaper and healthier somewhere else might not be as valid as he thinks. But you contain your smartass, locking it somewhere deep inside your brain as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“I’m Taehyung, by the way,” he introduces himself, a hand coming up for you to shake which you grip gladly, an inviting smile decorating your features as you tilt your head.
“Pretty name. I’m Y/N.”
“Pretty name back.”
His large palm rubs the nape of his neck, toying with his hair as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You notice that they are mesmerising, rose-tinted, so full and symmetric - they remind you of strawberries, and something in you already wants to have a sweet taste of them.
“So uh, this might seem super sudden, but if you’re free, I would like to invite you to some dessert? I make some mean strawberry shortcakes,” he continues, a shy undertone in his voice that you can’t help but find endearing as hell.
“Dessert without having dinner?” you ask with a tilted head, moving the small shopping cart back and forth.
“Well, I mean, I can… cook some dinner, too, no problem.”
“What if you’re an axe murderer and I just don’t know it yet?”
He chuckles at your words, a boxy grin leaving you speechless as he shrugs. “Yeah, true, you can’t know. But what better way to go than after tasting the best shortcakes ever?”
The laughter never ends as you finally oblige, paying for the few things you’ve decided to buy until you step out of the shop. Taehyung proves to be the perfect gentleman: not only does he carry your bag, but he keeps eye contact as well, always one to keep the conversation going - even when you feel it coming to an end gradually.
You soon learn that he doesn’t live too far away; you must have only walked for around seven minutes until you reach his apartment, a cozy, little one bedroom place that is filled with aesthetic things that catch your eyes right away. You notice that he likes the colour beige - a hue boring for a lot of people you know, but a soft, lovely comfort for you.
“If you want, you can go look for an axe,” he tells you when you enter shyly, winking at you before he adds, “just to be sure.”
You follow him to where he stands with a grin, gulping down a glass of water he hands you to get rid of the heat before you suddenly find yourself in front of his stove. You tell him firmly that he won’t be working here alone - if he wants to make you some cakes, he will have to taste your semi-horrible Pasta Arrabiata.
Surprisingly, it turns out to be quite decent - but nothing can compare to the melting, wonderful, heavenly taste that the bakery spreads across your tastebuds, and for a moment you forget that he’s here before you hum at him with wide eyes.
“Told you!” he rejoices proudly, chest sticking out as he pats himself on the shoulder.
“You weren’t lying, gotta admit.” As you take another bite, your eyes roll back; and Taehyung looks at you in awe - no girl has ever been this open and giving right away, and seeing all shyness leave the atmosphere between you, is something he finds pleasantly refreshing.
He keeps nodding at you, eyebrows wiggling with confidence until he suddenly says, “Just pretty things for a pretty girl.”
You feel something buzz in the pit of your stomach, and you try to remark something in return - but before you can succeed, he leans forward, a thumb coming up to the corner of your mouth before he backs away again. “You had some…”
Heat creeps up your chest and face, and you shake your head with a scoff, whispering “How cliché, huh?” as you finish the last bite.
You decide to stay just a little longer, intrigued by stories of his travels and favourite songs until you find yourself losing track of time. Dusk overcomes your town and stars sparkle outside, the warmth of his light bulbs dipping his room into an even more beautiful museum. It happens sometime after your retelling of personal tales of broken hearts and past break-ups that he leans in and presses his pillowy lips against yours.
The kiss leads to fervent touches, fervent touches to bare bodies and bare bodies to something you would’ve never imagined a few hours ago. In all that fever, you never notice all the incoming messages and calls from the man who’s waiting for you at home impatiently.
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Jungkook hears the school girl giggles before he knocks at your door, heart dropping a few floors when he realises how often you’ve started spending your time on your phone and without him.
His hands are still floury from kneading the pizza dough, so he opens the door with his foot, finding you lying sideways on your bed as you speak into your phone. You look up at him with a smile, telling the person on the other end to hold on before you cover the speaker.
“Hey, Koo.”
“I wanted to uh, ask if you want to help with the pizza? I’m done with the dough.”
There’s a laziness in his voice that seems new to you, a lifelessness that almost sounds like he’s waiting to let something out; as if he’s eager to hear an explanation about things that might be going on with you.
Your lips form an O, nodding enthusiastically as you tell him, “I’ll be there in two minutes, okay?”
“Sure,” he replies before he leaves, trying to close the door with his elbow on the handle; but as he doesn’t manage to shut it entirely, your voice still seeps through the crack clearly.
“Will you pick me up from work tomorrow?” A short pause, another chuckle. “Always a gentleman. Yeah. See you tomorrow then.”
Jungkook steps away from the door when he hears you move, approaching the kitchen counter and keeping himself busy with the dough as he hears you chime, “Pizza day!”
He wished he could laugh at your ardour, but all that floats in his mind is that you’ll be gone tomorrow - on your weekly Friday game night.
But who is he to control your life anyway?
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You’re sure the mirror shows a prettier self of you.
Because the dress that is hugging your waist so perfectly, accentuating your body and emphasizing your ass is surely an apple for anyone’s eye. You turn and pose in a confidence you haven’t experienced for so long - and maybe it’s all of Taehyung’s words that have you feeling this way. But regardless, you know you won’t let go of this euphoria for as long as it so gracefully decides to stick with your insecure self.
You flinch when Jungkook places his chin on your shoulders out of nowhere, meeting your eyes in your reflection before he says, “Why do we look so gorgeous today?”
With a roll of your eyes and a smug smirk, you ask him if he’s talking about himself, but he only scoffs, lifting his head and placing his hands on your arms tightly. “Honestly. You look like a flower.”
“Specify which flower.”
A soft slap lands on your skin and he shakes his head before flashing you a bunny smile again. “Mmmmh.”
You turn around to face him, hands landing on your hips as you watch him stroke his nonexistent beard. “Yes?”
“Blue dress. Definitely a forget-me-not.”
Jungkook’s smile doesn’t stay as long as you’re used to, and he buries his hands in the pockets of his shorts as he inquires, “Are you going out with your boyfriend?”
With his insides burning, he admits to himself how much he hates the fact that Taehyung gets to see and touch you like this while he has to wait right here, hoping that you still think of him while you’re away. Jealousy is nasty, an absolutely disgusting poison - but there’s no way he can stop it; not when you look and smile like this, not when it’s you in all your glory and beauty, inside and out.
The glow on your face is the only thing that keeps him from despising Taehyung entirely. The way you seem so happy and content fills Jungkook with fondness and pain simultaneously; loving that you feel good but loathing that he’s not the reason for it.
“We’re meeting in an hour, yeah.”
You look into the mirror again, reapplying the lipstick that hasn’t even faded yet before checking if your teeth have become victim to the nude colour.
But before Jungkook can reply, a firm knock startles you, a guest you didn’t expect waiting on the other side as if on cue. You shoot Jungkook an exploring look, the question “Yours?” written on your face to which he only shrugs his shoulders.
In a few steps, he is at the door, looking through the peephole before he backs away and pushes the handle down. To your utter surprise, both your and Jungkook’s eyes meet those of an exciting Taehyung, his large hands wrapped around a bouquet of beautiful purple flowers and his knuckles pale. But when he looks into the face of your flatmate, he steps away slightly, looking over his shoulder to make sure he is standing in front of the correct apartment.
“Uh - is Y/N here?” his baritone voice asks, looking past Jungkook’s shoulder and finding the answer to his own question when he detects you standing in the middle of the small room.
Your fingers clutch the fabric of your dress tightly, teeth gritting in tension when you realise that you never actually told Taehyung that you don’t live alone but with your incredibly beautiful, currently shirtless friend.
“Tae! What are you doing here?” you breathe, panic apparent in your eyes as Taehyung enters, lowering the bouquet in his hands.
Despite dating him for three weeks already, you failed to give him the most basic information about your life - and you can’t resent him from looking the way he does right now: disappointed, curious, confused.
“So you’re the Taehyung she keeps talking about,” Jungkook remarks behind your boyfriend, an eyebrow raised teasingly as he closes the door with a soft thud.
“That’s me,” the man in question replies, not leaving your face as he looks at you with a question mark written on his forehead, “and you are?”
And finally, he turns around, both men glaring at each other as if they are about to attack each other’s throats like wild cats. For a split moment, Jungkook’s gaze meets yours, and when he looks back at Taehyung, his expression relaxes endlessly - but not in the way you’d like. You wonder what he’s thinking - where the melancholy on his face is coming from suddenly.
But you think you know him well enough to understand that something is wrong. He’s not angry, no - not anyhow irritated either. He looks sad and so, so betrayed. You can’t entirely pinpoint why, but you make a mental note in your mind to ask him later.
“He’s my... flatmate, Tae,” you answer eventually, placing a hand on the nape of his neck as you explain, “we’ve been living together for almost three months. But we’re just friends. His- um-”
You walk around his body to face him, both your palms settling on his cheeks to make him look at you. And when he does, you smile at him softly, his face not pained but still a little questioning. “His mom suggested this apartment since it’s cheaper to share and Jungkook was looking for a co-tenant, too.”
“Just a friend?” Taehyung repeats - and although you can’t see Jungkook, you can almost imagine the way he’s shifting from one leg to another, hoping that the awkward situation ends soon, so he can continue playing his games.
That’s just what you think - with your back turned to him, you don’t notice how his face falls and arms drop to his sides. You don’t see his chest deflate; don’t know that his mouth twitches uncomfortably as he watches you caress Taehyung’s cheeks.
“Yeah. I promise.”
“She’s right, man,” Jungkook’s voice agrees, but you still observe Taehyung, looking for signs of disbelief. And when nothing comes, you feel his body relax, the breath he was holding now finally releasing. “Nothing happening here.”
And then, suddenly, Taehyung laughs, a honeysweet chuckle that allows his eyes to twinkle in genuine happiness and relief. One palm brushing your hair from your face, he leans down before his lips land on yours, electricity flowing through your body as you reciprocate the kiss immediately.
It only occurs to you how weird it must be for Jungkook when he’s already gone, the spot where he was standing just a minute ago empty when you turn around.
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“Is Jungkook in love with you?”
Cuddling on the couch at dawn while solving sudoku puzzles does not include questions like these in your mind. For you, it means happy laughter, stupid teasing and bad jokes. Asking you what your flatmate might or might not feel for you is not on your usual menu.
“What?” you ask Taehyung as you look at his sun-drenched features.
“Listen, I’m not jealous or scared of him stealing you. But if he is in love with you, this might not be the healthiest setup between you.”
With this, he means living together, you’re sure. But admittedly, your thoughts never drifted to this possibility extensively. Yes, when you still felt lost in what Jungkook is to you, you often questioned what he might think about you two, but since Taehyung and you became official, you never bothered to stay hung up on this topic for too long.
Especially since Jungkook never acted like he needed you to be more than this. Bold nature, honesty written in his bones, always direct and fearless - that’s what he is. That’s what makes him your best friend.
“I don’t think he is. And if I’m wrong, then I don’t know it,” you let him know, but he only shifts behind you, pressing the pencil into the sudoku book as he clicks his tongue.
Then, he starts doodling hearts on the paper, sighing deeply as he tells you, “I guess I just don’t want to share you.”
“You’re not sharing me, Tae,” you assure, pressing your body back into his as he lets out a small, quiet moan. One of his arms wraps around your torso, the air of the AC grazing your skin pleasantly as you lay under a thin blanket.
Your mother never understood the concept of burying your body under a blanket while having turned on the AC, and you reckoned you were genuinely strange - until Taehyung suggested the same exact thing before you cuddled up in each other’s arms like you are now.
“Can you say that again?” he asks softly, lips ghosting over your earlobe and causing a tremble that takes over your whole torso.
“Not sharing me...”
He pulls you into him after placing the sudoku book on the table, intertwining your fingers with his as his mouth presses gentle kisses on the side of your neck. You hum in content, breathing fastening as you try to concentrate on his words.
“Do you know the fairytale ‘A spoonful of heart’?” he asks you, his voice husky, deep, so inviting.
“Mh, I don’t think I do.” His fingers explore the skin under your shirt carefully, drawing lines and circles onto it as you close your eyes in delight. “You could tell me, though.”
“Well…” He traces your body down, soon reaching the hem of your shorts before he pulls them aside and slips under them to brush his digits against your sensitive bud. It should be strange - talking about fairytales while he pleases you on your couch. But someone like Taehyung can even turn a situation like this into something you welcome.
While his presence and existence proves to be one of an angel on Earth everyday, he never holds back when it comes to physical contact. As adults who are both experienced and deprived when it comes to sex, you didn’t wait for intimacy long, soon noticing that Taehyung liked you enough after just a month and half to take you wherever and whenever he can.
Whether that means to bend you over his desk or push you up against a wall isn’t important - but what you know is that you’re both too hungry to keep your hands off each other for longer than you’re forced to.
“A fairy… almost as pretty as you,” he starts, stopping to moan with you when he circles your clit, “lives in a whole different universe with magical powers. But she’s lonely.”
His lips leave a trail of chaste kisses along your cheek before he bites your jaw gently, continuing as you squirm in his grip, “So she decides to make herself a friend. But anytime she talks to him, he doesn’t answer, no matter how many clothes she brings or how many names she gives him.”
“And then she notices that it’s feelings that her new friend needs. A spoonful of her heart. So what do you think happens in the end?”
He waits for your answer, gripping you tightly to stop your excessive movements, harmless kisses transforming into open mouthed ones that leave your neck wet, marks already blooming.
“Tell me what happens, Tae…” you moan out, hissing when his actions on your swollen bud speed up.
“Her friend comes to life,” he concludes as you turn to look at him, molten gemstones staring back at you fondly before he adds, “you make me feel like you’re the one bringing me to life in our story.”
And with that, your lips lock, no matter how cheesy his confession was. His mouth swallows your mewls as he brings you closer to the edge - but every good thing comes to an end at some point, and so do your adventures. It’s just tiring that with you, the shift always happens in the most awkward way possible.
You hear the cough before you hear the steps, and you both flinch hard enough for your head to hit Taehyung’s nose, his hand immediately shooting out of your shorts to cover his face in pain.
“Can’t you guys find a room for your escapades?” Jungkook questions with an offended look in his eyes, his hair a complete chaos as he steps closer.
You must admit, not only were your actions a moment ago shameless, but most likely downright rude as well. But in your defense…
“I thought you were sleeping. I’m sorry, Koo.”
With his lips pressed together, Taehyung watches the mood change from hot to near agony, and as you look at Jungkook pleadingly, your boyfriend moves from behind you to stand. Fingers run through his fluffy hair, and before you can think twice, he says, “I should leave. But I’ll be back on Saturday to help you with painting.”
He winks at you before he kisses your cheek gently, squeezing your hand once. Before you know it, he’s picked up his keys, nodded goodbye to Jungkook and exited the apartment - and all you’re left with is a glaring best friend who eyes you with utter disappointment that you can’t find the reason for.
You know all that was awkward, stupid even - but is he really mad about that?
“Hey, I’m-”
“What did he mean with painting? Painting what?” Jungkook asks, approaching you further until he’s hovering above you. With your eyes staring up at him, you look like an innocent kitten, and he has to muster nearly every ounce of strength inside him to not falter and grow weak for you.
“The walls. He offered to help out here and in my room,” you explain, seeing Jungkook’s expression fall with every word you utter as he takes a seat on the table. Maybe, you think suddenly, Taehyung was right about his feelings.
But then, it doesn’t seem to be just that. “You promised me we would do that together. I remember calling you and you said we would go buy the paint together and decide-”
“Jungkook, I figured you’re busy. You work all day and then sleep to compensate. I just wanted to give you a break and-”
“Don’t,” he warns, the fest of interruptions continuing between you until you fall back into your couch under his intimidating eyes. “You meet this guy and forget about me entirely. Make plans with him that originally consisted of us. And you know, Y/N…”
He licks his lips and shakes his head, laughing mockingly before he finally admits what he’s been holding in since he first met Taehyung, “I’m not hurt because you’re happy. God knows I wish you the best you can get. But what hurt was that you couldn’t even tell him one word about us living together. Almost as if you’re ashamed of me.”
You want to tell him that’s not true - complete and utter bullshit. But should you let yourself commit to this admission, then you’d have to elaborate on your real reasons for hiding him for so long as well.
Because Jungkook is perfect in your eyes.
The embodiment of a higher being, a gift that entered your life when you needed him - an utter and undoubtedly wonderful person who understands every aspect of your life and every mood you throw at him. Your relationship isn’t common - but if you told him this now, you’d admit that, until not long ago, he meant more to you than he should’ve.
“And now you’re distancing yourself from me while I try to maintain our friendship. But all you know is him.”
You’re baffled by the outburst of emotions. Jungkook isn’t usually one to be affected by feelings this much, and the fact that he genuinely seems hurt right now, shows you just how much you fucked up.
It doesn’t even seem as if he’s here to draw an apology out of you; because the moment he finishes, he stands up, indicating the end of the conversation before he vanishes into the bathroom.
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Finding out that Jungkook isn't easy to pull into your craziness when he’s angry becomes frustrating. 
The worst thing is that he doesn't ever pout at you; never accuses you of anything; doesn't dare to pull you through a guilt trip as you try to make things up to him. But sometimes, you wish he would - because on specific days, the silence tortures you more than his direct anger could.
But the anger never comes and neither does the atmosphere that you both built together. When the weekend finally rolls around and you enter his room with your hands carrying heavy paint, you find him scrolling through his phone, indulged in whatever he's seeing on his screen.
"What are you doing?" you ask, approaching him with slow steps as you try to look at his phone sneakily.
You think you catch a glimpse of some party photos on Instagram, but you soon push the unimportant discovery aside when he tells you, "Nothing much. Was going to go out with Jimin to play some pool. Why?"
Your smile falters at his words, shoulders falling as you ask, "You're going out?"
"I mean, you're busy with our walls today. So I thought I could have some fun, too."
Your initial intentions were always to bring relaxation to Jungkook, knowing fully well how much he deserves a break from work and dealing with rude customers. If his reaction is to let loose in the form of meeting up with his best friend, then you’re okay with it.
"Alright… but!" You place the colours in the corner of his room next to his closet, rubbing your hands in excitement. "We're gonna do this together. Whether you like it or not."
"Y/N, honestly. I don't need pity or anything. It's fine if Taehyung helps you out."
You notice that he doesn't even look at you while talking to you. You wonder how fine things really are then.
"Come on, I told you I'm sorry, Koo. And I'm honestly trying…" You let yourself fall on his bed, and he immediately locks his phone before finally meeting your eyes.
"And I told you we're good. You're apologising for nothing," he tells you with such finality that you contemplate whether any other word born out of guilt is even necessary. He seems to be at peace.
But then, why aren't you?
"When will you come home?" you ask him, rubbing your naked thigh at the spot where the box of paint hit you multiple times.
"I don't know."
"Do you want me to cook?"
"No." He shifts, snaking his body past you until he stands to find clothes to wear for his outing. "I'll eat something with Jimin. Don't worry about me."
You notice that there are no actions or words left to further fuel the conversation, because you realise that it's dead, anything to be addressed already said. All you can do is watch him dress, look away when you need to and listen to his soft whistle before you're suddenly alone.
With nothing left to do, you decide to call Taehyung, exhaling in relief when you find out that he's at home and free before you tell him you'd be over soon.
Even at his place, the mood seems dampened, and not even his adorable, little dog Yeontan can lift it with his gentle licks until you lean back on the bed in confusion. What you're confused about, you still don't know.
"Baby," Taehyung calls you, carrying Yeontan in his arms endearingly before cooing at him.
In all honesty, trying to get over your own insecurities and bad days by consulting Taehyung seems surely unfair when all you clearly need is time to think. With all the words Jungkook assured you this afternoon, you should be at ease - but with your head spinning, you start to realise why you're not.
Figuring out why you're confused is hard - and before you can put your feelings into words properly, Taehyung asks the mind-boggling question.
"What are you thinking about?"
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When you come home, the lights are dimmed, shuffling in the living room indicating that Jungkook arrived before you did and is most likely playing his favourite shooter game with his friends. And as expected, you indeed find him sprawled out on the couch, his eyes wide open and mouth agape as he yells into his headset.
“Fuck, Jin, I told you to split! Stop glueing yourself to me, you’re close enough to kiss my ass!”
His eyes flicker to yours only for a moment and then back to the screen when you enter the room, fleeting greetings leaving him as you nod back. First, you decide to hydrate your body, your throat sore from all the yelling and heart heavy from the whole conversation you endured not even thirty minutes ago. 
Standing at the sink, you still hear Jungkook scold his friend, “If I could, I’d lock your character with all the other villains, so they can take care of you.” A short pause. And then, “No, I’m not fucking joking. You’re pissing me off so much, man.”
Something about his voice soothes the innermost parts of you despite all the profanities. Although he’s just screaming about a stupid game, you ease a little. You step into the living room, close to reaching your door when you wish him a good night in a shaky voice. Jungkook registers the tremble in your words instantly as he turns his head to take a better look at you, freeing one of his ears as worry heats up his face.
“Y/N, all good?”
Lips pressed together, you nod slowly - but even you realise soon that your answer seems faked and unbelievable to a point that even a stranger could tell that you’re lying. You hear a distant voice through the headset, now yelling back at Jungkook to fulfil his duty as a diligent army soldier of the nation whatever-the-name-is. 
But he ignores the cries for help as he asks again, “Y/N… are you okay?”
A phenomenon that most human beings are familiar with is the one of holding back until. Sometimes, it only arrives when you’re locked in your room, surrounded by silent walls; and on other times, it happens when you experience one bad thing too often or too intensely.
For you, the breaking point arrives when you look into his big eyes, so shiny and loving even in the dark of the room. And when he whispers his question with furrowed eyebrows, your until hits so hard that an uncontrolled sob escapes your mouth and causes the waterfall to overflow.
The knot in your chest returns with full power, and you watch through your blurred vision as Jungkook mutters apologies and goodbyes into the headset, ripping it off his head and standing up to reach you with two long steps.
“Oh no. Hey, look at me,” he coos as he cups your face, covering his palm with the sleeve of his shirt to wipe away your tears. “What happened?”
“No-nothing.” You shake your head, confirming yourself to be the biggest idiot as you lie to him while breaking down in the middle of the room. And while you know with a great certainty that Jungkook doesn’t believe you, you’re still thankful when he doesn’t ponder but pulls you to the couch instead.
His arms wrap around you tightly as his hand strokes your hair, and he whispers soft reassurances while you cry into his white shirt, tainting the fabric with what’s left of your light make-up.
Jungkook’s comfort is always something else. Neither your friends nor your exes were to this date able to heal a part of you just by engulfing you in their warmth; in hindsight, not even Taehyung’s arms have ever felt like they bring you the solace you so strongly desire at times.
But Jungkook doesn’t even need to work around carefully crafted words, because the way he touches you and looks at you mostly speaks volumes that sentences never can.
As you cry in his embrace, you feel like you’re actually home, entirely unrelated to the aspect of being in your physical home - but when the tears ebb down and silence overcomes you once again, you strongly feel like you owe him an explanation.
“He said he thinks he’s in love with me.”
The ache that floods Jungkook’s heart makes him flinch. While he was sure to hear this admission from you one day, he didn’t expect it to happen this soon - not while he still feels everything he feels for you and certainly not while you cry into his chest as if your world has crashed over your head.
“You should be with him then, Y/N.”
You shake your head slowly, gulping before you confess, “I didn’t say it back.”
“Hmm.” He hates himself for feeling relieved, hates that he’s basking in the comfort of knowing that Taehyung might not be what you want. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because…” you start, shrugging your shoulders as you rub the material of his shirt between your forefinger and your thumb. “I’m an idiot.”
Is that the reason, though?
“Do you… do you love him?”
That’s the question that has made you beat around the bush for two hours now, the neverending talk with Taehyung and the way home torturing you as these words played in your head in an endless loop.
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
You close your eyes as you let your brain replay the evening, trying to put each memory in a chronological order as you tell him, “He asked what I was thinking about. I told him about the things that happened between you and me. He…”
“Didn’t like that you were talking about someone else?”
“Mmh, no. That’s not it,” you say, starting again as you form the sentences anew, “He comforted me to his best abilities. He saw that I was upset and told me things would be fine - said he’ll be there if I needed him. That’s the least he can do for someone he’s... in love with.”
Jungkook pulls you a little closer, one arm reaching back to grab the thin blanket he’d apparently used while you were gone. “Okay. And then?”
“I hesitated too long. Then I told him, I can't say it back with a clear consciousness yet. I mean…” You stutter slightly, shifting as the blanket covers you, the warmth so overwhelming that you shiver. “Koo, he wasn’t angry, ‘cause - he doesn’t have a reason, right? Love happens at an individual pace.”
You feel him nod, his hand still brushing over your hair soothingly as you continue, “But he was clearly disappointed. Claimed he felt terrible and all. But things sort of escalated when he asked if it’s about you.”
His fingers in your tresses stop suddenly, and he freezes under you in a heartbeat as soon as he registers what you just said. “About me?”
“He thinks you’re in love with me. And vice versa, he’s sure you occupy my thoughts too much for me to fully commit to the relationship between him and me.”
A million dollar question floats on Jungkook’s tongue as he clenches his fist and releases it, his heart picking up on pace enough that he’s sure you can feel it. And while your statement of his brain having no filter has become only partially true since you moved in, it proves to be reality at the moment. Without a second thought, he queries, “Is that true?”
And to his surprise, you don’t answer. It’s not because you know it’s true - but because you don’t entirely consider it wrong. You’re stuck somewhere in a limbo, and you don’t know what you know anymore. Decisions, feelings, friendships - everything becomes too much and every word too insufficient to fit into a proper explanation that you could deliver him.
But again, Jungkook doesn’t question your silence further. Maybe not answering is enough for him. Still, you’re not his - you’re still in the wrong man’s hug, and no matter what or for whom you feel specific emotions, you’re not his to claim.
“Don’t cry, little flower,” he says slowly, and you laugh a little, burying your face in his shirt and inhaling his scent as he massages your scalp. He chuckles with you until you’re calm against him, and when he hears your breaths steady, he speaks up again, “Can I ask you something?”
“That poem you recited on the night of the blackout… What was the writer talking about?”
You faintly remember the words you quoted at that time to calm him down as you try to ignore that it was you who fell asleep instead. As far as you can recall, you’d settled for the last two paragraphs of The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd. From the research you’ve done and analysis you’ve read about the small piece throughout the last years, you can thankfully provide Jungkook with a satisfying answer.
“It’s… it’s a response to another poem. One in which the shepherd promises his love interest all the good things and assures her that he can give her the love she deserves,” you tell him, fan made powerpoints of the poem flashing into your mind. “But the nymph is skeptical about these things.”
Jungkook tries to bring the words you’d muttered back then into his head, the blurred memory slowly resurfacing before you make it easier for him and repeat them again, “But could youth last and love still breed… she thinks love and good things don’t last. Everything great you experience is fleeting, and not giving in to these things might be the healthiest approach to life.”
He was never someone to drown in literature much. Most of the time, he regards books and complicated words as sleep-inducing, not quite understanding why anyone has to read full stories and analyse strange metaphors when summaries and movie adaptations exist.
Whenever your soothingly soft voice chants such lines, however, a little feeling of heaven settles in Jungkook’s chest. He always struggles to entirely decipher the unknown emotion until he realises that it’s best to just indulge in it without questioning it.
But between your lovely tone and your warm touch, your explanation is drenched in painful and colourless hues, and he hates to grasp that he is the shepherd who keeps calling for you. The shepherd who tries to give you what you deserve; but you don’t seem to believe in whatever could bloom between you two.
“What do you think about this approach?” he asks you after a while.
You hum quietly, reiterating what you’ve written in online community chats dozens of times. “I think she’s wrong. You can still let yourself feel good, right? Things, or even happiness, might be fleeting and be replaced by sadness and dread at some point - but for the time it’s there, we should allow ourselves to enjoy it.”
“Yeah,” is all he answers. You’d chosen the poem entirely randomly, but he can’t help but admire how the content still fits subtly. Jungkook knows that he lets himself feel everything the world can offer - he is never one to decline the pleasures of the universe, freely letting his heart thump to whatever beat of a song it decides to settle on.
But while feeling is so easy, suffering is torture, and in this doomed relationship with you, all he can do is just that - suffer. Because when it comes down to facing reality, Jungkook knows he’s fallen in love with you too much.
And you haven’t fallen in love with him enough.
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Love has become such a difficult concept that you wonder how you still function. The triangle you’re caught in throws you in a gigantic loop, no matter how hard you try to smoothen its sharp edges.
You wish it was easier to hold back what has resurfaced after all this time. Anything you used to feel for Jungkook becomes so undeniably palpable now, and quite frankly - you grow to hate it. It’s too poignant and too present; and even when Taehyung apologises after your fight, understanding your point of view, you can’t shake the thoughts of Jungkook and everything that surrounds his existence.
It doesn’t take long until Taehyung’s smile starts haunting you, begins filling you with an unbearable guilt that forces you to lonesomely withdraw to your room and sip on coke until you fall asleep ultimately.
In your misery, you almost don’t notice that the man causing you this distress barely stays home anymore, showering after his work at the office before leaving the apartment again. Right! He has finally found a job that fits his degree, dumping the grocery stuff which only makes matters worse. Because now, he has even more stress on his hands; and yet, sometimes, he returns late despite his working hours on the next day - on other times, he doesn’t come back at all.
When you do start registering his absence, your mind goes berserk on yourself, despising yourself for coming up with the worst possible scenarios as you wait for him to come home, so you can ask your questions. Mostly, he responds vaguely, giving you answers that barely allow you to think of any further inquiries.
Was with Jimin.
Crashed at Jin’s.
We just drank a little and passed out at a friend’s house.
Then, one day arrives when you start to realise what Jungkook might be doing in the time you spend apart. It’s strange how you didn’t notice the crack between you widen since you told him about Taehyung’s and your fight. But tonight, you find out why.
“Shhh!” you hear on a pleasant evening in late August. Your hand spooning some chocolate chip cookie ice cream between your crossed legs halts as naughty noises fill the room along with those of the bad reality show running on the TV.
You crane your neck as you hear the door fall shut, and soon, two shadows become faintly visible in your sight, doing something that shouldn’t hurt you as much as it ultimately does.
He’s definitely kissing someone - no doubt. The subtle moans and shifting of clothes are indicative enough for your heart to drop, and you wonder how long you should wait until you can ask him what’s going on.
Or maybe, it’s best to stand up and crawl into your room slowly. Yes, this might be your best shot right now. But of course, all angels of luck abandon you immediately as always, Jungkook’s hand shooting up to the light switch to expose him pressing a girl you don’t know against the wall. His lips are attached to her neck, an image you want to burn right in this instant - but before you can look away, his gaze meets yours, face freezing at the spot as his breathing stops.
“Jungkook,” the girl repeats after you like a parrot, her hands roaming his clothed chest before she looks at you through thick, dark eyelashes. “Who’s that?”
With furrowed eyebrows, Jungkook backs away as if the girl electrified him, clenching his hands in fists until his knuckles turn pale white. You haven’t done or said anything to him, but the tense look he gives you is full of fright.
Admittedly, you don’t like that he comes home drunk this often, hate that he seems to deliberately avoid sleep and goes to work in a daze. But right now, he has done nothing wrong - technically. Despite all of this, jealousy creeps up your body, threatening to take over your every thought, but you have not one single reason to be mad at him; and yet, his stare is more apologetic than you’ve ever seen.
“Yeona, this is…” Jungkook starts, gulping visibly as he looks between you two in a plea of help, “She’s my room-”
“Cousin!” you interrupt suddenly, flashing your teeth at her in what you hope is a friendly smile. You come closer to shake her hand, the long acrylic nails irritating you the moment they graze your palm. Her expression relaxes, but you know she’s still confused. “I’m his cousin. Just visiting the city.”
Yeona’s lips turn upwards in the next second as you observe the pink lipstick stains under her lips, and again, your stomach turns when you realise that this was most likely Jungkook’s doing. Even his mouth is tainted in the same colour slightly, and you take a deep breath as you watch Yeona shift on her spot uncomfortably.
“Maybe I should leave,” her drunk voice suggests, and when you nod, she pulls down her dress before she approaches the exit - but not without a last message with Jungkook on the receiving end. “My number is in the back pocket of your jeans.”
And with a last wink, she’s gone.
You glance at Jungkook for only two seconds before you grip your box of ice cream tightly, ready to run to your room and cry all night when his warm hand grips your arm and pulls you back.
You free yourself from his grip, taking a few steps back until your legs hit the couch. His figure leans against the wall as he waits for you to speak, and when you detect that he does, you cough.
“You’re being reckless, Jungkook,” you simply state, brushing your hair from your face as you think of better things to say.
While he fully expected for you to lash out on him, you keep your voice steady and calm - and for some weird reason, this seems to give him more confidence than your anger could at the moment. He smirks at you before he says anything, and you raise your eyebrows in confusion as you ask, “What?”
“How am I being reckless?”
“You drink all the time. Stay out of the house every day. Jungkook, how many hours of sleep do you get?” you ask as you place the box in your hand on the table, crossing your arms in front of your chest like you’re scolding him.
“Just enough?”
You sigh in frustration, shaking your head as you press your lips together. You’re not sure how much sense it even makes to confront him about this right now. He’s clearly not in the right mind to bring logical arguments to anything that you’re saying. But when he keeps rolling his eyes in annoyance, you can’t help but feel your blood boil hotly.
“Why are you like this lately?”
“How?” he retorts, shrugging in innocence and ignorance.
You motion at him with your hand in an up and down movement, still not over his deranged state as you answer, “Like this. When did you stop giving a fuck about yourself?”
“Why do you care? Why don’t you concentrate on Taehyung and yourself instead?”
You blink in irritation, the name of your still-boyfriend causing a sickening feeling in your stomach by now - but you try to remain steadfast and poised. “What does that have to do with him?”
By now, your nails are digging marks into your palm, and when you release your skin, you feel a sharp pain course through your hand. With Taehyung’s words still in your mind, you gather your strength, licking your lips before you ask, “Are you jealous of him? What’s going on in your mind, Kook?”
For a moment, he stills, the smirk falling with his head as words fail him. But then, his hazy eyes settle on yours again, the universe twinkling in them so painfully that he gives in at last. “You could do better than him, Y/N.”
“What are you talki-”
“Why do you never consider… I don’t know… us? You’ve been here for four months and it’s not like I’m being subtle with you,” he finally lets out, words tumbling out like the walls you’ve built in your brain tumble down. You know he’s right. “Why and… how did he manage to get you this easily, but you won’t even look at me?”
His eyes keep closing.
While his words are sober enough to numb you, his body suggests otherwise, and yet you can’t do more than just watch his entirely drunken state. It’s a mystery to you how his legs are still carrying him, and when you realise that he’s in no shape or form to talk about an intense topic like this right now, you shake your head.
“Jungkook, honestly…”
With his gaze lazy and tired, he looks up at you, but instead of giving in to the exhaustion and going to bed, he smirks again as he rolls his eyes and buries his hands in the pocket of his jeans. A mocking expression takes over his face, and his next words are similarly laced with a ridiculing undertone.
“Y/N, honestly. You’re just too scared to talk. You always are.”
Always? As soon as you can remember, he barely ever tried to talk about this. But then again, maybe it’s your fault too for never elaborating on his questions when he does ask. Just like the night you cried in his arms over Taehyung.
“I’m not going to talk to you like this.”
A scoff leaves his lips as he abandons his place at the wall, his wasted self approaching you slowly until he closes you in. Fingers settle on your chin as they lift your head, his half lidded eyes meeting your frustrated stare.
While you’re used to his touches, his hand on your face feels suffocating, and you’re sure he could hear your heart hammer against your ribs violently in the silence of the room if he listened closely enough. He seems to know what he’s doing to you - and maybe, if you think about your situation carefully enough, you might be able to tell him when you started to feel like this in his presence.
He looks at you intently, his voice sweet and cautious when he says, “Tell me I have no effect on you.”
As if on cue, your heart picks up on pace, the thumb that’s suddenly stroking your jaw so warm that it touches your innermost muscle as you struggle to find your breath again. The way your body trembles and goosebumps erupt on your arms is probably telling enough for him - he doesn’t need an answer when he can obviously see that he has a massive effect on you indeed.
“Jungkook, please…”
Behind his tipsy eyes, the affection he harbours for you is clear as day, the sad gaze burning into you excessively until you get lost in it. It’s not until your noses touch and he breathes against you that you realise what’s happening - because when you smell the intoxicating scent of alcohol, you suddenly back away in shock, eyes closing as disappointment settles in.
All of this is unfair towards Taehyung - your relationship isn’t like that and you’re not like that. But as you understand that you’ve started seeing too much in Jungkook and too little in Taehyung, your mind wanders into a territory that you didn’t think you’d get locked in just a month ago. When you’re not tired anymore and the mechanics in your brain are working again - that’s when you can execute the decision that is forming in your mind at the moment.
But for now, you have to knock some sense into the man in front of you, and if anger is the way to go, then you’ll gladly resort to that method. “Stop! You’re fucking drunk. I’m not doing that while you’re drunk, Jungkook.”
“You know my feelings won’t just vanish when I wake up sober, right?”
“I have a boyfriend.”
And these words seem to shut him up.
Because the only reaction he gives you to that is an irritated scoff and a shake of his head before he steps away. Jungkook knows as well as you that you won’t kiss anyone while you’re with someone else, and he’s entirely sure he wouldn’t go this far either if his brain wasn’t surrounded by a thick fog as it is now.
Feelings won’t disappear when he wakes up, but his shamelessness might.
The tension is achingly tangible when he removes his hand from your face, whispering a solid, steady and final “Being in love with you is so hard” before he nears his bedroom and leaves you standing in the middle of the living room.
The last thing you hear is the shutting of his door - and then his words finally sink in.
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When Jungkook wakes up the next morning, his head throbbing and the light too blinding, memories come flashing back the moment he sits up. Considering every idiotic decision he has ever taken in his life, his action yesterday might’ve been the worst to date.
Affection and alcohol - he should’ve known that this combination would bring nothing but misery over both of you. Now, only regret washes over him as he rethinks the choices of his words last night, grimacing as he recalls what he said to you out of sheer romantic desperation.
But then again, no one comes out of love unscathed.
An aching body forbids him to stand right away, forcing him to lay back for another hour until the pain subsides slightly. The first destination in his mind is you, wherever you are right now, but when he steps out of his room and finds that he’s alone, his hopes vanish into thin air.
You’re probably with Taehyung again, giving in to the comfort of his arms as he showers you in the love Jungkook can’t give you. But then, he detects a piece of paper on the table at the couch, candy tucked in funny wrapping holding it in place. He approaches the table with heavy eyelids, lifting the paper to bring it up to his face before he begins to read.
As a little pre-birthday-warning: I’ll be out today to get some things done. Don’t ask, because I won’t tell you - know that I’m thinking of you x
God, he’s so in love with you - the intensity is cruel, and despite being your flatmate who gets to spend the most time with you, he hates the current distance that has formed the temporary crack between you two.
Anything with you has become so hard to contain. When did you start to affect him this intensely? Considering every ex he’s ever had, he can’t recall ever feeling a yearning as strong as with you; a feeling that makes him count down moments and seconds and minutes and hours until he can see your face again. And without thinking twice, he gives in to it when he grabs his phone, leaving a text before throwing the device onto the couch again.
He only makes it to the counter that divides the kitchen and living room before a text message comes in, his legs carrying him to the furniture speedily as he unlocks his phone.
Flower 😁🌹 [12:16 pm]: i told you not to ask. can’t surprise you that way, right? ;)
The grin that appears on his features is one he hasn’t felt in ages, and the serotonin flowing through his body is enough to give him hope that he doesn’t know what to do with. But for now, he can just give in to the pleasures, no matter how fleeting they are, right?
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“You don’t understand.”
“I think I do.”
Jungkook lifts the weight in his right hand, working out the frustration he’s been feeling all day due to being apart from you - and despite the fact that he should rest more, he knows no better way to do so than to hit the gym with his best friend and complain until Jimin gets sick of him.
“No,” Jungkook says between the tired grunts, watching his friend roll his eyes in the mirror, “you don’t, man. I fucking want her.”
“JK, I know.”
With another groan, Jungkook’s bicep flexes beautifully before he places the weight on the thin mat, breathing having become heavy as he turns to Jimin. He looks at him in question, still dry as he was an hour ago while sweat glistens on Jungkook’s forehead and temples.
“What do I do?” He points at himself with a shake of his head, big eyes widening. “Honestly, I don’t know what the hell to do.”
His best friend nibbles at his plush lower lip, thinking of ways to help Jungkook win his girl over as he watches the man in question tilt his head up to the ceiling as if he’s praying. “Give her time. You know she likes you. She might dump this Taeyeon guy soon.”
“Who cares? I stick to what I said. Just wait for a while.”
Jungkook rubs his face, the damp hair making him cringe slightly before he questions, “Okay, but what if she doesn’t?”
Jimin shrugs as he lifts the weight Jungkook put down earlier, the same grunt leaving his chest as he openly admits, “Then you’ll have to live with that.”
Jungkook takes a careful look in the mirror as he eyes the boy he once knew to be patient, careless and relaxed about anything that happened in life. All he sees now is a pathetic adult who overthinks every single aspect of his romantic life, waiting desperately for love from a girl who managed to secure his heart in an iron strong grip.
And all that a day before his birthday.
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Taehyung is wearing your favourite purple shirt today, a cozy cotton button up whose sleeves he’s rolled up in a way you love. As you sip on your tea, you wonder if he’s done that for you.
He registered that something was wrong the moment he laid his eyes on you ten minutes ago; your hug was too fleeting and your kiss missing. You aren’t even looking at him as he waits for you to speak your mind - something about your demeanor today hurts him in the best way possible, and somehow, he feels like he knows what’s coming next.
“Tae… I think we need to talk,” you tell him carefully, your chest rising and falling a little faster when you see his face drop.
“I think I know,” he remarks, a slight lopsided smile gracing his face that doesn’t quite reach his beautiful, nearly empty eyes.
Even you felt like he knew that was coming - him looking at you as you shifted in your seat constantly was proof enough that he was scared and only sitting tight until you told him what you yet have to tell.
In the bustling coffee shop, time seems to stand still as you lean forward, grabbing his large hand to wrap it around yours as you admit, “I have to let you go.”
Six words aren’t enough to make up for the ache that is to come, and although you repeated this sentence over and over again before meeting him, it seems so insufficient at the moment that you rush to continue.
“It’s unfair towards you. And I’m not like that. But I can’t hold onto this... onto you… if my mind isn’t with you entirely.”
You realise how horrible all of this sounds, can vividly imagine how much it must pain him. But his face doesn’t entirely show, the only indication of his discomfort being the clench of his jaw as he holds back his emotions.
Taehyung isn’t angry or disappointed - in reality, something about this feels freeing, nearly as if the heartbreak is worth everything if it means that he can delete thoughts of indecisiveness about your feelings. In that sense, this separation might help you both, no matter how long it might take to get used to the change.
“I promise this isn’t the same old it’s-not-you-it’s-me-song,” you tell him with a sigh, your thumb stroking the back of his hand gently, “So I won’t say it to you. But I will for sure let you know that you’re truly amazing, Tae. And you don’t deserve to feel like a second option.”
He nods in agreement, catching his lips between his teeth as he asks you in the softest tone, “Jungkook is your first option... right?”
You close your eyes as you lower your head; everything about this situation is so uncomfortable that you count the seconds until it’s over. “I- I’m sorry, Tae, I-”
“No, I swear I’m not mad. It’s fine.”
You know it’s not. But you know Taehyung is too good to admit it.
“I want you to be happy. I fell for you because I loved seeing you happy, and I tried to keep you that way. But we both know it’s not me who’ll do this effectively; and I think you’ve known for a while, too.” His voice is still steady as he gives you his point of view, and when he squeezes your hand back, you finally look up to see that his stare harbours nothing but fondness that is directed to no one but you.
“I’m so sorry, Tae.”
You feel like you’re about to cry - but then, he laughs a little, bringing your knuckles up and brushing them against his lips. “Honestly. You deserve to feel good. And if it’s with him, then I’m okay with letting you go, Y/N.”
“I hope you’ll find someone who gives you the love you should rightfully receive, Taehyung. And I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve made me feel in this short time,” you confess, trying to somehow ease the goodbye - whether for him or yourself, you don’t know.
“Any guy in his right mind would treat you like this.”
A shaky breath escapes you when he puts some money on the table and stands, hovering above you before he leans down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. He doesn’t leave right away; instead, he runs the back of his fingers along your cheekbone, asking you quietly, “Do you remember the story about the fairy?”
You smile at him, thinking back to your little living room post-sudoku adventure before you nod. “I do. A spoonful of heart.”
“That one,” he confirms, loving the way you lean into his touch, “I was just thinking that…”
You look up at him expectantly as he pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he concludes, “Jungkook might have been the fairy to make you feel alive in your story after all.”
And with a last, light pinch of your cheek, he bids you goodbye and buries his hands in his pocket before you find yourself alone surrounded by a crowd.
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You hear an answer in the form of a grunt - a sound that soothes your soul instantly after the break-up you just had to endure. But after you’ve made such a big decision for yourself, it’s time to accept the changes that occur in your life and stride forward to something - or someone - you truly want to be with.
“Where are you?” you ask into the void as you take off your shoes and hang your bag onto the rack.
“Only one or two places where I can be,” he shouts back, and you follow his voice, a small box in your hand as you open the door to his room.
At the sight of you, Jungkook straightens his back, putting a book aside as he takes in your strange smile. You, on the other hand, are too surprised to see Jungkook with a book, making you entirely forget the present you’ve wrapped in pretty, earthy-toned autumn paper.
“What are you reading?” you ask, stepping closer to peek at the cover and title. “Thousand ways to escape your soul. What’s that about?”
“Just a collection of love poems. Stages of affection and all that.”
His gaze never leaves what you carry in your hand, and it only takes him a second before he recognises what these things might be for. He points silently to the flower you’re holding, and you blink a few times before you realise and sit down on his bed.
“You bought me a tiger lily?” he asks softly, taking it from you as you stretch it towards him. He brings it to his face, taking in the scent before he smiles in the sweet way he always does when he thinks you’re not watching. “You remembered?”
Of course you remembered. The moment he’d once blurted drunkenly how he loved this specific flower, you’d immediately noted in your mind that you had to surprise him with it someday. Being his birth month flower, he’s so fond of it that he tells you every now and then how he will definitely get a tattoo of it on his arm one day.
You sigh and nod before you lean in close, pressing your lips gently on his cheek and taking one of his free hands into yours as you say, “Happy Birthday, Kook.”
He looks at you almost shyly, eyes still fixed on the flower as he thanks you quietly. Despite any tension between you, he rubs your skin with his thumb softly. It isn’t until you move your head down to meet his gaze that you see the sadness in his face, the sting in your heart so prominent that you have to resist the urge to throw yourself at him.
“Jungkook,” you try, and then he lifts his face, looking at the wrapped present that you place on his lap, “open it. It’s for you.”
He gulps visibly, his hand leaving yours and placing the flower on the nightstand as he asks, “What is it?”
“Just open it.”
It’s almost as if he’s tearing the paper in slow-motion, and you grow nervous with each moment that the present doesn’t come into view. But when it does, you exhale deeply as you observe his reaction carefully.
A few seconds pass by as he throws the paper to the side, looking at every picture slowly and intently before he takes his lower lip captive. “You didn’t have…”
“Come on, don’t say it. I know I didn’t have to. Not important. Do you like it?” You shift closer, taking a look again at the collage you made of your pictures, still in awe of your own skills of finding a beautiful golden frame that seems to fit his golden personality.
“Of course I do,” he says, glancing into your face with slightly furrowed eyebrows. His eyes glint a little as he stares at you, another gulp following before he adds, “I love it.”
“Hey,” you try yet again, placing a hand on his cheek that makes him flinch slightly. You wonder… when has Jungkook become so powerless in your presence? “Let’s get some dinner somewhere and then hang out at the river.”
He hesitates. Clicks his tongue as he leans into your touch, contemplating what and how to phrase whatever is lingering in his mind. “I don’t know… I don’t really feel like it.”
You let your hand fall into your lap, watching his fingers draw forms on the glass of the frame as he takes a deep breath and admits, “I just… feel bad since that one drunk night. I shouldn’t have said what I said. Or disturbed your peace with Taehyung.”
“Well,” you start with a scoff, thinking back to the man you left behind some hours ago, “There was no real peace between him and me. And it’s nothing we should be worried about now anyway.”
Jungkook’s eyes light up the moment the words leave you, but somewhere behind the happiness, you detect worry, too. The one he always feels for you, no matter if it’s about a bedridden day or a cut on your finger.
You nod, your turn with swallowing the knot in your throat approaching as you stand up and start to back away slowly. “I mean, I was going to tell you that he and I broke up, and then I wanted to take you to dinner somewhere, but if you don’t want to-”
His legs work faster than his mind as he lifts his body in a sudden motion, making you take one more step back when he practically yells into your face, “No! Wait, what? What happened?! I’m so sorry, I didn’t kn-”
“No, no, it’s fine! You said you don’t want to go out, and you should definitely rest and pout on your birthday!” you tell him with a laugh, nearing the door until his steps have closed you in against the wooden material.
“Stop that, Y/N,” he commands, expression stern as he wraps both his hands around your wrists, “what happened? When did it happen? Why?”
You press your lips together, trying to find the shortest summary of today’s events to not elaborate on it further. Frankly, you don’t want to think about it anymore. “Just now. I told him it won’t work between us... because... I can’t possibly be in a relationship when it’s not him who holds my heart.”
The last words you utter fade into thin air, your voice growing quieter with each syllable as your body heats up. Jungkook tries his best to remain calm, but the unsteady breaths that leave him and the thumping heart are hard to ignore, relentless and nearly painful. He thinks he knows what’s happening but asks anyway.
“Who.. does?”
You’re not sure if you want to laugh or cry from the anxiety; the fact that his lips might be on yours soon throws your thoughts and mind into a dumpster fire. He’s close enough for you to hug him, but you contain yourself, look into his bambi eyes as you tell him barely audibly, “You know it.”
Silence returns for a moment and you ponder on just running away as long as you can. But then, he shifts from one leg to another, asking, “What did he say to that?”
“He… nothing much. He understands. Wants us to be happy.”
“Is that okay? Being happy together when you just broke up with him.”
That’s something that has you feeling somewhat ambiguous as well - because even if peace between Taehyung and you had long vanished, you’re unsure. But then, you remember that he pretty much gave you his blessings, and you know he’d want you to be happy - after all, that’s why you parted in the first place.
Leaving him and then not taking the opportunity feels like cheating, too.
“I think it is,” you answer eventually as your eyes drift to his fingers intertwining with yours. You don’t know why everything feels so intense with him - even when Taehyung and you started dating, the breathlessness was missing, this one feeling of bittersweet anticipation that flows through you when you’re in love; truly in love.
“Can you say it?”
You raise your eyebrows in question, blinking twice before you inquire, “Say what?”
“Say what you feel?”
You feel… relief. A new kind of ecstasy that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a late December night; affection that you want to keep inside you until your breaths give out; fleeting thoughts and everlasting promises that you want to hear over and over again. And all of this carries his name.
“I’m in love with you… Jeon Jungkook.”
His hand squeezes yours lightly, the other palm slowly coming up to cup your face as you watch his face glow in the same way as it had weeks ago. You keep thinking it; keep telling him - but his gaze inhabits every star in the world, one exploding after the other until all that floats in his eyes is stardust. Tiny, beautiful particles on a canvas of black - and you don’t think you will ever get enough of staring into the universe.
“Does that mean,” he begins, moving closer, his voice filled with so much sweetness and tenderness, “that I can kiss you now?”
The nervous laugh that escapes you is the same he’d grown so fond of when you first met, and even now, he realises how your effect on him never seems to falter. “Only if you want to.”
He chuckles with you, head shaking as his nose brushes against yours. You shrug, going for another joke, “I’m serious. Maybe you’re asking to tease me and I’ll just-”
“Shut up, Y/N,” he orders, and you go absolutely docile at his words, mouth agape as he presses you against the door. “Seriously. Just for once… shut up.”
The kiss that follows knocks all the available air out of your lungs, forcing you to tilt your head the same time he does. You inhale deeply as your hands wander to his strong bicep, relishing in the warmth of his mouth as he moves his lips slowly, affectionately. You think you feel a hint of desperation in his motions and know that he definitely is when he turns you both around and urges you backward until you fall onto his bed with a gasp.
Any body language that follows from his side from this moment on screams for less conversation and more physical contact; everything you deprived each other of for months catching up within moments.
You notice the urgency in the way he wraps his arm around your waist, placing you in the exact middle of the mattress. You know it when his lips meet your skin again, tracing the goosebumps on your neck, shoulders and clavicles. He gives you ultimate proof of his impatience as his hands roam all of you, lighting up your body wherever he touches you.
As your fingertips meet in zeal, you feel an invisible connection buzz through you like a current. Dopamine induces adrenaline that makes your heart flicker, pleasure and affection lighting up parts of your brain that have you run into overdrive.
There is not enough time to reflect on how your human body reacts to everything he does appropriately, because god - all you want to think about is the fact that he’s in love with you, and that you’re in love with him, that all that matters between you is just that; love, love, nothing else but love.
Swift hands undress you within blinks of your eyes, his shirt and jeans soon following until you’re left panting, writhing, and naked under him while he hovers above you in his underwear. His tongue leaves wet stripes along your sides, nails digging just a bit too hard into your waist; teeth nibbling, biting, marking, tickling…
“Don’t be nervous. Look at me, flower,” he whispers when he sees you clench your hands into tight fists, his chin on your tummy and his fingers opening your palms slowly as he gives you a reassuring smile. He slows down, taking you in and admiring every bare inch you’re presenting so voluntarily to the man that has occupied every waking thought in all those weeks and months.
You don’t know how or when you suddenly got here - to this fever and insanity that threw you into this labyrinth without an exit; but then again, you don’t want to escape anyway.
With time passing, love had become a sick game in your life, and whoever was tossing the dice has apparently gotten bored enough toying with your patience - because now you’re finally where you want to be. After all this time, confusion, fights and heartbreak - you’re finally here.
“Look at you,” Jungkook whispers, pulling you out of your dreaminess and self-reflection as he kisses down your stomach and thighs, “you’re so beautiful, it’s fucking ridiculous.”
He finds himself in a state of utter bliss as he opens your legs slowly to showcase your glistening core to him. A sigh leaves his lips as he takes in the image of your ready cunt, involuntarily making you hiss by breathing directly onto your wetness.
You squirm as he holds your legs steady, waiting in anticipation until you feel your heartbeat slow down. But it doesn’t remain calm for too long before you finally feel his lips wrap around your swollen clit, soft fingertips soon following until he places them at your entrance. He knows he could dip inside easily; he knows you’re already soaked enough to take whatever he gives you.
But instead, he circles your hole as he tries hard to keep you in place, careful to not get your knees into his face or anywhere else that might potentially hurt. And when he finally slides two of his digits into you, you suddenly relax as if he’s pressed down on an acupuncture nerve, your exhale so deep that he wonders if you’re still with him.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he lifts his face, watching the way your breasts rise and fall in awe. You don’t answer, and he’s close to coming up to you and shaking you awake before he sees your slight nod and hears your quiet hum.
“Do you… like that?” he wants to know as he twists, spreads and moves his fingers inside you, having you arch your back before you look down into his eyes.
You nod again, tongue licking your lips in absolute delight as you admit, “I do… but…”
“Tongue, Koo…”
He smirks at you, igniting such an intense fire that you feel your face heat up more than it already has. His eyes never leave yours as he lowers himself again, his tongue accompanying his fingers as it makes its way up in curvy patterns. He circles your clit slowly, making you moan out louder than expected at the warm, wet sensation that runs through your nerves in waves.
Fingers still pumping in and out of you, he continues to draw forms on your sex, alternating between sucking your bud and licking the space between your nether lips. Despite being sexually active for months now, you feel yourself come undone sooner than you would’ve thought, and before you can stop yourself, you utter in a jumble, “Com-ing, I… Jungkook, don’t stop...”
You’re so unbelievably sexy as you beg for more, nearing your orgasm on his first try while he knows how hard it usually is for girls to come at all. The pride that fills his chest threatens his heart to burst, and with it flowing through his veins, he lets out a grunt against your pussy, pushing you off the edge ultimately as you come with clenched hands and a thrown-back head.
“Did you…?” he inquires as you fall back, watching the arousal drip off his fingers and onto his sheets - it might be answer enough, but he still wants to hear it from you.
“Sinfully so. Makes me want you more.”
“Tell me what more you want,” he orders as moves up to you, a clean finger booping your nose affectionately as he awaits your answer.
You hum, playfully thinking as you say, “Want you to pin me down.”
From all the words you’ve ever said to him, he never expected to someday hear this from you, looking down at you like this and fogging your brain enough. Him. Not Taehyung, not any other man, but him, your roommate, best friend, casual guy Jeon Jungkook.
“Fuck,” he voices, head shaking in disbelief, “so hot.”
His glistening lips come back to yours again, but he can only relish in the feeling for a fleeting moment before you pull away and grip his shoulders tightly. “My turn.”
You’re not sure if it’s him who falls onto the mattress by himself or if it’s your strength that turns him around, but soon, it’s your lips trailing down his body in return. You let your palms glide over the strong chest, his bicep flexing when you reach a sensitive spot on his torso and low groans leaving his mouth as you get to the hard bulge that has formed under his boxers.
Your mouth traces the imprint of his cock over the fabric, already eager for the thick muscle that awaits you, standing proud only for you. Your fingers tug at the hem for a few seconds before you pull the clothing down carefully, his cock bouncing out like a spring with a red, leaking tip.
With wide eyes, you stare at the package, standing beautifully like a tower and making you drool uncontrollably; you could guess that Jungkook’s well equipped down there, but this makes your hunger and thirst for him grow tenfold. But despite everything, you can’t contain your laughter as you see it twitch when you place your hand around it.
“What’s so funny?” Jungkook asks, looking at you in confusion and hissing as you start pumping when you see his cock deflate slightly.
“Nothing, I’m just an idiot.”
“Tell me.”
You sigh, licking a strip along his veins before you answer, “I just find dicks funny sometimes. Just hanging there.”
The crooked grin that adorns his face in the next moment leaves you gasping, his head falling back on the pillow with his sharp jawline on full display. “Just suck, baby.”
“Wow. Rude.” But whatever you remark, you can’t ignore that the nickname wets your sex anew, butterflies in your stomach fluttering wild.
But if the name ignited something unknown in you, then you weren’t ready for the sound that escapes him and throws your mind into an abyss when you slide your tongue over the tip of his head and then engulf his cock in your warm, inviting mouth. “Fuck, you’re so good at this. Like that, yes.”
First, you toy around his head, feeling more precum leak onto your wet muscle as he hums quietly and satisfied. He continues to whisper praises and curses under his breath, eyelids gradually closing and fingers coming down to tangle in your already messy hair.
You know combing through it will be hell later, but with the way his cock prods at the back of your throat when you sink deeper, doesn’t allow you to dwell on this thought further. His length throbs inside you as it begs for more, his hand tugging at your tresses to urge you to continue.
And when you start to pick up a steady pace, bobbing your head up and down while your hand moves where your lips can’t reach, he moans out, “Look at you, Y/N… so messy… fucking sexy… mine.”
You bask in his words and enjoy the fucked out state he finds himself in as you start to suck him a little faster, focusing on the pulsating veins along his shaft. Your fingers move down to cup his balls, and he seethes through gritted teeth, abs and chest hardening at your ministrations. Slight squeezes nearly push him into a frenzy, delirious words travelling from his foggy brain to his tongue as you continue to cover his cock in your drool.
“What the actual fuck,” he sibilates before his jaw clenches. With avidity that always resides in his chest when you’re around, the fist in your hair tightens before he suddenly thrusts up into your working mouth.
His movements are uncontrolled, almost harsh, and when the tip of his cock hits your throat extra hard, you gag involuntarily. Your head snaps back to catch your breath, your voice croaky as you call out his name with a cough. His eyes shoot open when he awakens from his haze, suddenly hyper aware of his previous eagerness.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he suddenly apologises as he lifts his body, leaning against the headboard promptly and pulling you up with him. You still cough a little as his hands meet your face, but you catch yourself fast, shaking your head to indicate he doesn’t need to apologise for anything at all. He still does, thumb running over your lips to collect the remaining saliva. “I’m sorry.”
The worried look on his face nearly looks like he’s apologising for more than just that - the agony sits deep, and you’re unable to decipher why until you tell yourself how wrong it is that he’s the one saying sorry. He never did anything wrong, yet faces you with this expression, feeling and shouldering guilt so unnecessarily for both of you.
“It’s okay, Kook,” you tell him, straddling him smoothly. You look into his eyes, somehow trying to amplify your sincerity to negate the guilt trip he’s sending himself into before you continue, “We’re good.”
His eyelids fall shut, breathing calming down and worries vanishing slowly as he asks quietly, “Are we really?”
“I promise,” you assure, trying so hard to convey just through the passion in your eyes that things are fine; that every fight is forgotten and every issue resolved, the world spinning around nothing but you two.
He nods after opening his eyes, brushing his thumbs over your cheekbone once more as he asks, “Condom?”
You shake your head, muttering a simple “IUD” before you grab his wet shaft from underneath, leading the head of it to your dripping pussy and sinking down only a little. Jungkook is thick - big even. You need to adjust before you risk for the slightly painful sting  to settle in.
“Oh shit…” he says, eyes squinting tight as he blows air through his o-shaped mouth, “okay.”
You wince at the same time he moans, his fingers wandering down to your ass and digging into the flesh deeply as he looks at you intently. Your eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, hands holding his shoulders to find a firm grip and mouth agape as you try to take steady breaths.
All this time living together, and yet he affects you in ways a long-time friend shouldn't; and that goes for him too. Your effect on Jungkook has his heart threatening to escape through his chest, every sight of you, every expression you throw at him so radiant, that he can’t imagine going without it a single day.
Every form he’s seen you in has been something new: the shy stranger across the couch table; the endearing literature enthusiast reciting line after poetic line; the glowing angel in front of the mirror, dressed in pretty dresses with an even prettier smile plastering her face.
And even now, you’re so goddamn mesmerising.
He leans forward to place his gentle lips on your neck, kissing in a chaste manner before he lets phantom touches of his mouth drive you crazy. When the pain gives in to pleasure and the stretch becomes bearable, your hips begin their rolling movement, rocking back and forth slowly first as you let him mark the skin of your neck and shoulder.
Everything combined, you moan into the space that carries his scent, throwing your head back as his cock glides in and out of you so easily. Jungkook lets out a frustrating sound, his voice so low and desperate when he cries out, “God, don’t moan like that or I’ll… come right away.”
You shoot a smug grin his way - one that he wants to wipe off your face immediately. And when you whisper “Shut me up then” close to his lips, he takes it as exactly the permission he needed two seconds ago. Not that you would’ve ever said no to his request.
And when your mouths interlock, tongues mingling right away, you begin to move just a little faster. But the feeling of his kiss is so intense and deep that you notice the way your movements falter - and soon, it’s him who’s thrusting up into you, your eyes squinting shut before his fingers tangle in your hair and throw your head back.
More wet kisses on your neck follow, his tongue hitting a spot seconds later that makes you giggle slightly from the tickling feeling Jungkook brings. But laughing while the man of your dreams is trying to please you is awkward, so you go for the next best option and become even more awkward as you ask, “What are you doing?”
But Jungkook isn’t one to get irritated by you fast - the only thing he does is continue his ministrations, answering in between, “Trying to be the sexy dominant guy?”
“Oooh,” you sing-song, just a single vocal draining you off your energy enough to pant as you feel him fuck into you, “yeah… go ahead then…”
His cock wet from your slick soon becomes even more restless than before, the curve of the hard muscle hitting you so perfectly and twitching whenever you let out an extra loud moan. Your mouth hangs open, your tongue wetting your lips as he bites into your neck. Small context-less pleas escape your mouth before he looks back at you, his dark gaze piercing as his pupils shake.
When you place your hands on his chest, forehead leaning against forehead and body trembling, his fingers brush the hair out of your face, thumb running over your mouth until you take it in to suck diligently.
“How is this actually happening, hell…” he says so quietly that it looks like he’s merely mouthing it, “I want to keep fucking you forever, I swear…”
“As… my boyfriend… you can for sure,” you tell him, probably too shaky, probably too soft - but he doesn’t care about the lack of your abilities to form coherent and audibly clear sentences. Because his gaze widens tenfold, lifelines running wild and movements halting for a moment.
“Repeat that… please.”
“My- my boyfrie-”
But before you can finish, he flips you over with a sudden and smooth motion until your back hits his soft mattress, his cock still residing hard and firm inside you before he lifts your legs and places them onto his shoulders.
As his cock hits home, you lose half your mind, arms raising above your head and holding onto the edge of the pillows - and as he watches your tits bounce with his eager movements, he feels his sanity slip just as much.
“Y/N, you be- you belong in a… fucking museum.” By now you can’t even tell what you’re hearing and what not - all sound is pounding and ringing in your ears.
His movements slow, cock coming out almost entirely before hammering into you again - and he watches it all; observes the way you suck him in and loves how he feels you clench around him when he groans. He tilts his head to kiss your leg, relishing in how responsive you are.
And soon, the distance feels too aching, his hands removing your legs from your shoulders and one of his arms wrapping around your torso instead as he leans down to make out with you for the umpteenth time today.
You never get enough of his taste and touch, wondering how much time has already passed and how much he has already wrecked your insides to influence your walking abilities. His free hand moves to your wrists above your head, pinning you against the bed as you previously pleaded.
You know he’s losing control - feel your blood circulation stop as he rams his cock into you and whines against your mouth, the bed shaking with the way he’s fucking you into it. You want to complain about his grip, tell him that your hands are running cold - but before you can say anything, he releases your wrists and intertwines the fingers of one of your hands.
“Beautiful,” he whispers as he kisses down your neck and collarbones, “the sounds you make for me. So pretty.” Your nipples perk up as his lips brush against them, and when he takes one of them captive, your legs wrap around his waist tighter, urging him to thrust harder, deeper, faster.
And he does - fucking you senseless, pounding and putting all his energy into you, teeth biting your nipples just slightly but enough for you to whimper and wince. Your audible desire spurs him on and he sucks harsher, smacking sounds and the vigorous feeling lewd enough for your head to spin insurgently.
When you feel his movements emanate the devotion he harbours for you so excessively, you suddenly feel romcoms start to make sense. Cheesy lines, cheesy smiles and even cheesier descriptions seem logical now, every realisation washing over you with the man’s hands on you who you’re so undoubtedly in love with.
“Touch yourself,” he commands when his lips leave your tits once before coming back again, teeth and mouth pulling and releasing your nipples until you listen. Your forefinger finds your clit in an instant, shaking from the impact of his cock ruining you thoroughly. “Pretty angel…”
He mutters more sweet words and praises, feeling his own movements falter as he watches you come undone with breathy moans and fast breaths, covering his length in the second orgasm of the afternoon.
The arm around you pulls you down on the bed, so your head stops hitting the headboard, your fingers gripping his hair as he kisses you messily, so lost in you and your affection. He holds you tightly, presses you against him, last thrusts following as he cums, too.
Endless, warm ropes shoot through you as his sounds vibrate against your lips, and his fingers in your hair and on your waist are so ruthless that even you let out a surprised yelp. It’s then that his movements drive you into oversensitivity slightly - but his moans and grunts seem to make up for all of it.
“Girlfriend,” he says once he’s empty and has left the kiss, stretching and trying the word as he pants heavily, eyes closed and face sinking in your neck. He doesn’t look at you as he calms down but still cups your face with his hand, fingers tracing your lips without glancing at them.
Without pulling out right away, his head shoots up to meet your gaze, another slow, soft kiss following that differs from your animalistic actions before in its whole entirety. His eyes roam your face and he tilts his head, unspoken worries written in his galaxy pupils that make your own concerns grow and your eyebrows raise in question.
He swallows thickly, a thought obviously weighing heavily on his mind before he mumbles, “Please, tell me if you feel uncomfortable with this, but - I should tell you that… I- I think…”
Fear creeps up your body, and you’re unsure about his next words right after the love-making you two just shared - but his stare is agonising, and all you can do is comfort him in any way, “I know. Say it, it’s - it’s okay.”
Months of pining and weeks of chasing you have affected him rigorously. If he was to count and retell the moments he feared he would lose you because of his own feelings, he would ramble for ages - he’s sure. But with everything you two have endured and fought through, it only seems fair to confess. And yet, he’s sure that you already know.
“I think... I love you.”
Thinking that he does might be the understatement of the decade - if there’s any universal truth in this whole, wide and terrible world, then it’s that he undoubtedly and without a question does just that. But if there is any chance that you don-
“And I think I love you, too,” is what you answer, however, the confession so sudden after the breakdown you had with Taehyung the night you came home after his admission. You see the surprise in Jungkook’s face; think that he might not yet but might know soon that the whole reason for your insecurity with Taehyung birthed from the affection you harboured for the man in front of you.
“You do?”
“I really fucking do,” you confess, laughing as you see his expression change and eyes widen.
An enormous grin appears on his face, relief washing over him in tsunami waves as he answers with pecks on your temple before he finally pulls out with a hiss. He hands you a few tissues quickly before he runs into the bathroom buttnaked, grabbing and bringing you a small towel, so you clean yourself up.
You snort as you watch his bare figure walk towards you, his lips pressed together in a smile as you say, “That’s for our hands.”
“So what?” he says as he throws it at you before slipping into his underwear, “Just use it.”
And with that, he disappears again, almost sprinting into the kitchen before you hear some water run into the basin. Busy with cleaning yourself and the washing-machine-ripe sheets, you notice too late when he comes in with a purple-tinted glass of water. And when you do, you coo in adoration as he puts the tiger lily in the glass carefully, neatly finding a spot for it on the nightstand before he places the framed picture right beside it.
With a pressing urgency, he takes out his favourite thin, blue blanket out of the closet, unfolding it before he joins you on the bed and covers you both. His arm pulls you close, lips kissing your hair softly until he smiles at you, wordlessly gazing into the depths of your eyes without ever drifting away.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” you ask him with a giggle, your fingers running over his chiseled chest in soothing motions.
“Can’t believe just yet that you’re real.”
You raise an eyebrow, looking at him carefully again before you remark, “The prettiest man alive is saying that to me?”
Jungkook laughs at your words, arms leaving your body for a moment as he reaches out to grab the frame behind him, telling you with a groan, “Well- it wasn’t me who Mr-I-can-seduce-your-woman-and-your-man stole you from.”
You give him a pout that he doesn’t see, too lost in the pictures you decided to include in the collage. He holds it up for both of you, pointing at a photo from months ago in which your face is covered in flour - his doing, of course.
“We were baking muffins that day. As a movie night snack,” he tells you, still remembering that it was a Matrix kind of evening. You both had gotten drunk enough to try the dodging-the-bullets-trick yourself, your back consequently hitting the floor and Jungkook having to massage it later as best as he could.
“Can’t believe we didn’t understand how whipped we were for each other.” You point at your smiles on various pictures, the small gazes you both are throwing at each other on every still taking over your heart. “Look at this. It was so obvious.”
Jungkook’s smile widens more and more with each word and glance at the pictures, and you don’t know what overcomes him in the next moment when he suddenly places the frame back to its previous spot and throws himself over you again. He leaves little pecks all over your face, grinning in between as you begin to giggle. Soft fingertips trace your sides until they grab your waist, and then he halts, nose brushing your cheek.
“When you fell asleep at the night of the blackout, you were whispering my name,” he tells you, mouth moving and hovering above yours as his eyes fall shut.
You think back to the night for what feels like the thousandth time, but no such memory comes up - you can’t even remember if it was him you’d dreamed of. “Really?”
“Yeah. I was dozing off, but then I heard my name,” he explains further, stealing a kiss from you before he drops onto his side again. With both your heads placed on the pillow sideways, you watch his tired eyes close here and there. “I don’t know why you were saying it, but it took so much fear from my chest. I was looking at you for a minute or so until I realised that there are worse things to be afraid of than the dark.”
You’re the one with an intense love for poetry. You know words whispered by poets and bards, know them by heart with them engraved in your mind. And still it’s Jungkook you’re in awe of - because the way he twists and crafts his words reaches a core inside you that you didn’t know existed.
“Worse things?” you ask, brushing the hair strands out of his eyes as you watch him nod.
“Like… having to find my new personal flower I can share my rent with.”
You roll your eyes playfully, pinching his arm slightly and making him hiss before you fall into his hug again. Your gaze falls onto the glass filled with water and the tiger lily for a split second before you realise how the simple flower symbolises a new month and new start for you, autumn leaves falling slowly the same way the tension in your heart does.
With Jungkook, you’re ready to experience all the seasons and everything that comes with them - the changes in your apartment, changes in your relationship, changes in the world and all the other changes in between.
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i’ll smooch anyone who can deliver roomie jk to me :] <3
for those who made it to the end and actually read the whole thing - thank you so so much !! if you liked the fic, please leave a like, a reblog & let me know what you think by sending an ask !! feedback is always super appreciated & valuable <3
or you can just chat with me about the story & characters if you’d like !! :)
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jungkxook · 7 months ago
—pour up. (m)
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⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader x taehyung
⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / fuckboy!taehyung + smut  
⟶ words: 14,048 (idk how it’s literally just smut)
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: sleeping with both notorious frat boys kim taehyung and jeon jungkook doesn’t sound so bad ━ especially when you’re drunk and faded.
⟶ warnings: mentions of drug/alcohol use, essentially pwp lol, threesome, double penetration, voyeurism, messy rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dry humping, manhandling, doggy style, riding (sort of?), fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), face riding, face fucking, deepthroating, breast play, slight begging (mostly oc making jungkook beg hehe), brief name calling, dirty talking, unprotected sex, creampie
⟶ note: this is a repost of a fic from my old blog! also shout out to miss jlin @bratkook​ for being the sweetest and for liking this trashy fic of mine, and a happy early birthday present to @onherwings​ miss juno, the resident taekook lover!! 💛
also the accompanying song to this fic is pour up by dean!
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There were times when you were sober where you were persistent about never being in a five foot radius of a frat boy, much less strip yourself of your dignity long enough to sleep with one.
Your appalling disgust and immense irritation of the male species that were frat boys kept you well in tune to your rule ━ until you’re far past the point of drunk and faded. Only then, when your bloodstream is laced with alcohol and your mind is nothing but a hazy cloud of smoke, you shrink into a shameless hypocrite and favour the appeal of a simple hook up. But you have needs too; it isn’t entirely your fault. Kim Taehyung offers you exactly that, with the promise to then act as if nothing happens the very next day so that the two of you can revert to despising one another out in public.
You act as if no one knows about your flings with ultimate frat boy Taehyung almost every weekend, as if they’re just as oblivious as you, but damn near the whole school knows and most certainly the rest of the boys in Beta Tau Sigma, or as Taehyung puts it, his brothers. It’s a useless cycle of bicker, avoid, drink, sex, and repeat, ever since you joined the school as a freshman and the sophomore boy took an interest in you. He’s charming in all the right ways and good looking but his smooth appeal was almost too good to be true and, past his “kind” smiles, you could make him out to be arrogant, vain, and cocky. Maybe you would have given him an actual chance had it not been for his snarkiness but all your brain could truly handle was his dick for a few hours a week.
Unsurprisingly, you always end up crashing at Beta Tau Sigma after one of their raging parties that results in your hook ups with Taehyung; surprisingly, Taehyung is miraculously into pillow talk post-sex and so he doesn’t entirely mind if you stay the night. But, by morning, when the alcohol has all but turned into a terrible hangover, he can hardly care less if you stay or not.
Usually, you wake up on your own, courtesy of past sober you setting an alarm on your phone to make sure you wake up earlier than all the other walkers of shame and anyone else in Beta Tau Sigma. Ideally, it was to help guarantee that no one would ever see you or judge you for stooping low enough to sleep with a fuckboy but you don’t know how well that’s working out for you anymore, if you’re being honest.
That’s why, early one fateful Sunday morning after a night of fun with Taehyung, you awaken with a start to the shrill Marimba tone that rips through the silence of the room and causes you to literally jump out of bed and crash onto the floor. You groan at the sharp pain that shoots up your spine and accompanies your groggy mind as your eyes flicker open only to be greeted with a blinding light that is the sun as it filters through the shut curtains. Littered on the ground are clothes, your clothes, beer bottles, red solo cups, discarded bed sheets, a singular condom wrapper (you thank your past selves for at least being sober enough to remember to use one), and your cell phone.
“Turn that shit off, for fuck sakes,” he grovels.
His hangover, and the early morning, makes his already deep voice even rougher, huskier, and you blame your disoriented mind for thinking he sounds even remotely sexy. He doesn’t bother to lift his head from his pillow or to find where you are in the room, the messy longer-than-usual curls of his hair flopping into his lashes as he flips onto his back. Other bodily remnants remain from the night before, from the mellowing ache between your legs left in the wake of his dick sufficiently railing you to the bite marks on his neck that you had so graciously bestowed him.
Now, you roll your eyes at him instead but dive for your phone nearby and tap the snooze button before it wakes the entire house and rouses the army of fuckboys from the dead.
“Good morning to you too,” You remark. “Is that better, princess?”
You push yourself to your feet and stretch, the stiff joints in your body popping and cracking, before searching for your clothes. You’re certain Taehyung has fallen back asleep as you dig around through the clutter to find your belongings but what else is new? It’s a routine the two of you have come to know well, and one that neither of you mind. You spot some sort of lacy material hidden underneath a few of Taehyung’s dirty laundry laying on the floor and reach for it thinking it’s yours. You’re only mildly disturbed to find that it isn’t yours at all ━ though you’re more concerned about the hygienic purposes of touching some other girl’s thong than you are about the blatant fact Taehyung sleeps with more girls than just you (a fact you swear you could care less for).
“Jesus Christ, your room is a disaster,” You scoff now.
“You could clean it,” Taehyung suggests sluggishly. Now, he’s awake, pretty and hooded eyes fluttering open to find you nearby. He props his hand behind his head to lift his gaze a little higher.
You snort, tossing the underwear away. “You never cease to━”
“Amaze you?”
“Repel me more than when I see the collection of thongs you have hidden in your room,” You correct. Fortunately, you spot your own underwear nearby and scoop it up, quickly slipping into them.
“Aw, baby, is that a bit of jealousy I hear?” Taehyung asks. He runs a hand through his dishevelled dark locks and shoots you a drowsy smirk. “You know you’re my one and only. I can always count on you when I want good head.”
“Please, flatter me some more, Tae,” You quip dryly.
As you hastily slide into your stiff shirt and jeans next and turn to face him, combing your fingers through your hair, Taehyung seems to take your words to heart and tries again. “You look like shit.”
You feign a voluntarily loud and overly dramatic moan. “Ugh, you really do know how to treat a girl━” Your cut off by a shameless snort from Taehyung before you continue on, “You know, you don’t exactly look the hottest right now either.”
“I beg to differ,” he replies nonchalantly. Technically, he isn’t lying, but you refuse to feed his ego any more.
“As if.”
“Funny,” he hums. “Could’ve sworn last night you were calling me hot when you were begging for my dick.”
You don’t bother to reply. Instead, you shake your head as you rub your tired face, uttering, “I need a coffee.”
“You could stay,” he offers. “I can make you one.”
“You don’t even know how to boil water,” You retort. “But thanks for the gesture. Try not to throw up on yourself today, okay?”
Taehyung mumbles something in response but then he’s already flipping over onto his side to fall back asleep again. You grab your bag from the floor and slip into your shoes before tiptoeing out of the room.
The Beta house is just as much a disaster as Taehyung’s room is and you find yourself stepping over more bottles, cups, empty pizza boxes, and hungover passed out people with phallic images doodled on their faces. The sun filters into the ever grand mansion and only illuminates the chaos the frat boys put it through. Everyone is thankfully still asleep as you head downstairs but, as you sneak past the kitchen, you notice two figures rummaging about, boisterous unabashed laughter filling the house that somehow hasn’t woken the others yet.
Jeon Jungkook stands before you with Park Jimin, both fellow Beta brothers, though Jungkook is in the same year as you. They, like most other Beta boys (and especially Taehyung), are well known on campus but Jungkook is perhaps even worse than Taehyung. Now, he’s adorned in only low hanging gray sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and the happy trail that threatens for your eyes to follow it. He holds a bowl of cereal close to him with the same arm decorated on every inch with tattoos, a snapback pushing his messy hair up and away from his forehead. The best part (and you mean that not at all) ━ or the worst ━ is the fact that he stands on a hoverboard, as if walking is too much for him to handle at nine in the morning. Jimin isn’t far off wearing the same attire, only his look is paired with the fuckboy-essential-starter-pack of socks and Adidas slides, and he’s at least actually using his legs to walk.
“Morning,” Jungkook smirks. “Time for the walk of shame?”
You have to retain a sigh. “I’m surprised you’re up, Jeon. I was sure you were gone past the point of saving last night.”
“A couple of shots do nothing for me,” Jungkook replies, shovelling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “I was pretty much sober.”
At this, you sit back on your heels and look him once over skeptically. “You kept trying to hook up with me, called your dick Jungcock, threw up in one of the vases, and then passed out in the bathtub. I wouldn’t have exactly called you sober.”
The smirk remains on Jungkook’s face. If anything, he seems more so amused and it pisses you off. Jimin bursts into a fit of laughter and shakes his head.
“Always a pleasure seeing you, Y/N,” he greets. “Hey, are you coming to the party going down at Lambdas house after exams? It’s pretty exclusive but you and your friends are all invited by courtesy of us.”
“Ugh, I can’t even think about going to another party right now. How do you Beta whores do it?” You grovel. “Besides, why would we come if we know you’re going to be there?”
“‘Cause Tae’s going and you’re probably gonna wanna suck his dick,” Jungkook suggests snidely.
“I was gonna say the free booze,” Jimin offers instead. “Man, you know the Lambdas. They’re all rich pretentious sons of country club owners. They hardly throw parties but, when they do, you know it’s going to be wild. I wouldn’t miss it if I were you.”
“Well,” You say, “thanks for the invitation but we’ll see. Maybe if we have a pre-game where I can get drunk enough to handle your faces and the Lambda boys together.”
“I’ve always said you’re more fun when you’re drunk,” Jungkook hums pensively. Your eyes narrow into a glare and you’re fortunate Jimin is there to block your path from tackling Jungkook.
“Okay, whatever,” You grumble. “I’m out of here. I think if I stay here any longer, I’ll lose all my brain cells.”
Jimin chuckles but hardly seems bothered by your comment. He waves you off as he slips out of the kitchen to retreat into another room, leaving you alone with Jungkook.
“Can I get you anything before you go?” he asks. There’s a cheeky tone laced in his words that makes you blatantly aware he’s trying to suggest something more, like his dick.
“Absolutely not,” You wave him off. “See you around, Jungidiot.”
He grins and shoves another spoonful into his mouth. “Hey, maybe next Saturday you can think about blowing me instead of Tae, yeah?”
He’s met with you jamming your middle finger in his face and it only seems to entertain him further. As you march out of their home, slamming the door behind you, you have one discernable thought amongst your hangover and that is that you’ll definitely need to have that pre-game before you have the audacity to even see Jungkook, or any of the Beta boys for that matter, at the Lambdas.
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That Saturday, you find yourself at the Lambdas house party.
So maybe you had sort of been lying when you said you weren’t so sure of going to it, but the thought was tempting enough and you aren’t one to pass up on a good party, especially when it’s after weeks of headaches and stressing over studying and exams.
Mid-terms come and go and when you finally finish writing your last paper, all you want to do is let loose and party and get dicked down by Taehyung. The Lambdas, despite their pretentious behaviour, looks to be very promising ━ but only after you down a few shots beforehand and have a beer while you’re getting ready. You’re not exactly as drunk or as tipsy as you would have prefered but it still gives you a nice enough buzz that makes you warm and lets the adrenaline pump in your veins and excites you even more for the party. The house you rent is off campus but it’s close to Beta’s and Taehyung offers to give you guys a lift to the Lambdas who are a fifteen minute walk away (but you know Taehyung will do anything to not walk anywhere his penny board can’t take him ━ and it’s not even Taehyung who is driving but his friend, Jin).
You can hear the party at Lambdas before you’re even there. The thump of bass coming from the house isn’t hard to miss, especially not with the way it seems to rattle the ground the closer you get. The house is crammed full to capacity and people have already begun to spill onto the lawn by the time you have arrived. A potent waft of alcohol and weed fill your senses and it is all you could really make out in the rambunctious party. You can hardly hear yourself think, let alone what others are saying to you. Yet, you still found a way to have fun almost instantly, drifting away from the guys to party with your friends.
Most of the night is a blur and a haze of confusion but you can remember drinking and drinking some more until you’re sufficiently smashed. You can’t quite recall where you had lost your friends, though you suspect it was after the intense game of beer pong you were suckered into in which you were certain there were no winners or losers as it was just an excuse to drink even more. It’s nearing 1 a.m. when you finally bump into a familiar face, pulling you back from the unruly party and the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins.
You’ve just slipped outside for some fresh air, perched on the front porch, when you notice Jimin is passed out on the lawn below. The other stragglers gathered outside barely take note of him but maybe that’s because he had chosen to faceplant in the shadows under the porch, tucked safely away from the rest of the party. Just before you can even think to walk over to him and make sure he’s still alive, the front door of the house swings wide open and a frenzied Taehyung bursts outside, shortly followed by an equally dumbfounded Jungkook.
“Where the fuck is he?” Taehyung hisses.
“I don’t know,” Jungkook sighs, disgruntled, “but leave it to him to run off and disappear.”
“Looking for someone?”
The two boys startle at your voice. They whirl around to find you taking a sip of the drink in your hand, as if only just noticing your presence. You hadn’t seen them since you parted ways a handful of hours ago in the party, though you’re fairly certain they’re just as smashed as you.
“Ah, babe!” Taehyung beams wolfishly. “What a pleasure seeing you out here. Uh, you wouldn’t happen to have seen where Jimin went, would you?”
You nod in the direction of the sleeping boy down below. “He’s there. He’s passed out cold, though. What the hell did you do to him?”
“Nothing,” Jungkook says. He grimaces as he hastily follows Taehyung down onto the lawn to stand near Jimin, and you in tow. “Jimin just likes to get out of hand. What should we do, Tae? We can’t just leave him here and Luna’s going to be pissed if she sees him like this.”
Taehyung stares down at Jimin miserably, thinking momentarily. “Well, Luna’s looking for him so we might as well drop him off at her dorm. He can deal with her when he’s sober.”
There’s a brief moment where you spot Jungkook seriously considering this though, as if leaving Jimin on the lawn of a frat house is a safer option than returning him to his girlfriend. Ultimately, he caves and you watch as Taehyung nudges Jimin awake (and by nudge, you mean he slaps the boy across the face) before pulling a very disoriented Jimin to his feet and slinging one of his arms over Taehyung’s neck.
“Fuck, he’s heavy,” Taehyung huffs. “Give me a hand, Jungkook.”
Jungkook nods, stepping forward to take Jimin’s other arm and hook it around his own neck. The two boys seem to be struggling carrying most of Jimin’s body weight, though they’re carrying mostly dead weight as Jimin continues to drift in and out of consciousness.
Before they can leave you offer to help though you don’t know what you can really do so you suspect your inebriated mind just wanted to go with them for the hell of it. Luna’s place isn’t far. It’s a ten minute walk from Lambda’s, but in that ten minutes, none of you talk about anything of real importance except for chuckle and laugh about things that happened at the party.
Eventually you make it to Luna’s, who answers the door angrily after you knock on it as if you’ve disrupted her slumber and frowns when she sees Jimin’s current state. At least she has the decency to thank the three of you. When she shuts the door behind her, the three of you turn to look at one another, almost clueless.
“So, what now?” Taehyung asks. “Head back to the party?”
The thought of making the ten minute walk back to the party in your drunken mind seems like an eternity. That, mixed with the way your feet scream in agony from the heels you’re wearing, you begin to pout and shake your head.
“I can’t walk anymore,” You whine, words drunkenly slurring together. “I’d be fine just sitting here.”
Jungkook’s nose scrunches as he looks at you once over. “How drunk are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, how about we just go back to our place?” Taehyung asks. His arm slides around your waist then, tugging you close to his side. If one thing is for certain, the boy tends to get more handsy the more drunk he is, and you never seem to mind. “I’ve got a fresh bowl we can hit and we can drink there and just chill?”
You and Jungkook consider Taehyung’s offer fleetingly and, to you, it seems much more appealing.
“Sign me up,” You say. “The Lambdas were a bit too over the top for my liking. There’s only so much I can handle.”
Jungkook shrugs and nods in agreement. “Then I guess I’m going with you guys.”
The five minute walk to Beta is short and soon you’re inside the eerily empty house and climbing the steps to Taehyung’s room but not before the three of you raid their cabinets for any type of liquor. Eventually, you’re all lounging in Taehyung’s room, some type of music playing in the background as the three of you pass around a bottle of whisky and the bong Taehyung had promised he had, giggling at each other.
By 2 a.m., you are smashed and faded but blissfully so.
Taehyung and Jungkook are not too far off. It’s Taehyung who comes up with the idea to play strip poker, though with a twist. His version of the game includes: taking a shot anytime one of you loses a round along with either stripping an article of clothing or being allowed to pass it and get dared to do something else, though each person only has three passes.
Jungkook loses the first round, shedding only his jacket. Taehyung and you lose the second round; you decide to strip out of your own cardigan while Taehyung flicks off his hat. Jungkook and Taehyung lose the third round and both kick off their shoes. The game progresses slowly, with the three of you coming up with “clever” loopholes out of the rules, like stripping one sock one round and then another sock the next and all of you are too drunk to really protest. Eventually, the game winds up with Taehyung and Jungkook both in their pants and you still wearing both your shirt and jeans. Both the boys have used one of their passes and are still losing which, you will admit, boosts your confidence ever so slightly especially when you have such a nice view in front of you.
Both boys are toned, with certified gym rat Jungkook’s abs a bit more chiseled, and you know that sober you would cringe at how hard you seem to be drooling over them. Jungkook must notice because he shoots you a wink that has you squirming in your seat.
“Like what you see?” he asks.
“N-No,” You say shortly. “Shut up and go. It’s your turn.”
You end up losing that round, unfortunately, but you have no qualms with stripping out of your jeans and kicking them to the side. The next round, you lose again, except you decide to use one of your passes which has both boys groaning in defeat.
“Remember,” You coo, “play nice boys.”
The two exchange a look and you wait patiently, taking your shot of whisky in the meantime as Taehyung chides you on encouragingly with a cheeky, “Pour up, baby girl.”
You down the shot in one gulp, wincing as it burns down your throat, then chase it quickly with the drink you had stolen from their kitchen. A drowsy smirk tugs at Taehyung’s lips as he takes another rip from the bong, breathing out a cloud of smoke as he hums insouciantly, “I’ve got your dare.”
There’s a split moment where he makes eye contact with you and pushes his hair out of his eyes.
“Come here and kiss me.”
Had you been sober, you might have rolled your eyes at his simple yet assertive dare but, instead, you can’t help but snicker as you lean across to him from your seat on the floor and pull him down for a not so graceful kiss. His whisky coated tongue instantly collides with yours in an open mouthed frenzy that’s full of teeth clashing and wet sounds but it’s hot, too hot, even as Taehyung pulls you closer to him with his hand grasping at your chin. You instinctively react, teeth nipping at his lower lip as you suck hard, momentarily forgetting about Jungkook sitting in the room.
A moan emits from you as your fingers thread through his hair. Jungkook is left to watch but his eyes stay locked on your figure and the way you cave so easily to Taehyung, the way your mouth moves against his. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your position on your hands and knees, or the way you arch your back in an attempt to get closer to Taehyung, and he certainly can’t seem to look away from the tempting curve of your ass jutting in his direction. All Jungkook suddenly wants is for you to be kissing him the same way you’re kissing Taehyung.
You’re only interrupted when he finds the nerve to clear his throat after a few moments. “Nah, it’s alright, I’ll just sit here. Do you guys want me to leave?”
He’s being sarcastic, of course, and when you and Taehyung part to look at the boy, he’s scowling. The two of you chuckle lightly but don’t respond, though you remember the game you’re still playing. Taehyung kisses you one last time before you settle back onto the floor, a sheepish giggle bubbling in your chest. Taehyung loses the next round and he decides to strip down into his underwear though he hasn’t lost yet (the goal is nudity and neither of your drunk selves have enough dignity left to give up before then).
The round after that, you lose again. You decide, once more, to use another one of your passes and the two boys pause, thinking of a dare for you as you take a shot (which, you have realized, only get harder to take as time passes).
“I have one,” Taehyung says at long last.
“Bro,” Jungkook groans, “if you just wanna fuck, let me know. I’ll leave. I don’t think I can sit here and watch you dare her to suck your face again.”
Taehyung laughs and shakes his head. “Easy there. I was just gonna suggest that you━” he points at you before nodding toward Jungkook, “give him a lap dance.”
“A what?” Jungkook’s jaw drops open, his eyes widening. “M-Me?”
You glance up at Taehyung, quirking an eyebrow. “Him?”
Taehyung erupts into another fit of laughter but he’s the only one who finds the situation hilarious because you and Jungkook continue to sit there, dumbfounded. When Taehyung calms himself down, he wipes his eyes and shakes his head.
“Are you seriously telling me you haven’t been noticing?” he asks.
“Noticing what?”
“The way Jungkook keeps eye-fucking you,” Taehyung says simply.
Jungkook gaps. “The fuck? I haven’t.”
“Jungkook, you’re not exactly sly,” Taehyung says. “He’s been doing it the whole night, babe. It’s not the first time he’s done it, too. I just figured we could do him a little favour.”
Your turn to look up at Jungkook and purse your lips. He’s seated in Taehyung’s desk chair and has a frown painted on his face. It’s not like it comes as a surprise to you because he’s constantly trying to flirt with you even when you’re sober but his sudden flustered appearance puzzles you slightly. You’ll admit the idea is ludicrous, but Jungkook is undeniably hot, and grinding on his dick sounds more than wonderful to you in your current state. Either way, you stand to your feet.
“I’ll do it,” You say. “Why not?”
“Wh-What?” Jungkook yelps. “You will?”
“Yeah,” You flash him a pearly smirk. “What? Is confident Jungkookie finally shy?”
At the mention of the taunting nickname, he straightens up in his seat and scowls. “No. I’m just surprised you gave in so easily. You must really like me, huh?”
“Keep dreaming, Jeon,” You retort.
The music is still playing in the background as you slink towards Jungkook’s seated figure. Meanwhile, Taehyung is watching with an amused look on his face and sits back, clearly enjoying the view as he tells you that you have three minutes. As you approach Jungkook, he leans back in his seat and watches you with dark eyes. Jungkook’s eyes sweep over your figure, from the way you muse your hands through your messy hair, your tight tank top with one strap falling down your shoulder, your lacy and scantily clad underwear, and your smooth legs. He gulps at the sight and shifts in his seat.
As soon as you’re standing in front of him, you whirl around so that your back is to him and jutt your butt out just enough to catch his attention as you sway your hips to the music. Your hands ghost up your sides just faintly enough so that chills run down your spine and you lock eyes with Taehyung for a split second to see him grinning. You sit back on Jungkook’s lap and his breath hitches in his throat suddenly. He hates to admit how easily you’re driving him crazy and as soon as you are but he takes the time to enjoy the dance anyway, eyes staying trained on your ass as you grind against him in agonizingly slow circles and right against his dick nestled against his thigh. He can’t help it when a moan emits from him.
“Fucking hell,” he grunts, raking his hands through his hair. You snicker at his reaction, craning your neck to look behind at him.
“Enjoying yourself, Kookie?”
“N-No,” he rasps. This is a lie, of course. “Turn around.”
His command only humours you but you don’t disobey. You get up for a second to spin around and face him before climbing back onto his lap, swinging one leg over his. Before you drop your hips completely on him, you’re rocking them back and forth against the thin air, your hands snaking around his neck. His hands suddenly find purchase on your waist and he yanks you down onto him with a sudden neediness that surprises you, though you don’t complain. You continue to grind against his lap and you can’t help your greedy self when your hands reach out to run up and down his toned chest. He shivers at your slightest touch, his jaw clenched, but he keeps his gaze focused on your eyes, as if challenging you for more. Behind you, Taehyung is taking another hit from the bong and laughs lightly at Jungkook’s reactions.
“Let him touch you,” Taehyung says.
You expect Jungkook to listen to Taehyung and reach out to grab onto you but he hesitates, his hands remaining at your hips. So, instead, you take his hands in yours and begin pulling them up, sliding them along your midriff and up to your chest. You don’t even flinch as you let him cup your boobs over your clothes and you watch him slyly as he gulps.
“Is this the first time you’ve actually touched a girl, Jungkook?” You quip. “You’re gawking at my boobs like it is. Not gonna wet yourself, hm?”
“Fuck off,” he growls, though there’s no malice in his voice.
Instead, he focuses his attention on your breasts and the weight of them in his palm. They’re soft and supple and he squeezes them firmly, jiggles the flesh as he fondles at you blatantly. He hates to admit it but he feels as if he’s going to combust at any second, repressing the sudden urge to tear off your shirt and burrow his head in your chest, your boobs in his mouth. He doesn’t know whether the soft moan that slips from your parted pink lips is intentional to mess with him or because you had been getting carried away yourself. Either way, Jungkook’s certain it’s the hottest thing he’s heard in a while, the hottest thing he’s seen in a while, and he hates how his sudden erection forms, how embarrassing it must be. When you feel his hardened length start to poke at your thigh, you look down at him past your lashes and smirk.
“Are you hard already, Kookie?” You giggle.
Taehyung roars with laughter abruptly and the outburst only makes Jungkook redden.
“I━I━” he stammers helplessly.
You shake your head at him and then purposely press your hips a little more firmly against his, gripping at his shoulders now. You’re challenging him now too, and he doesn’t know what you have in mind but you’re wickedly set on making him cum in his pants before Taehyung stops you.
“Time’s up,” he says.
Jungkook almost groans out loud in frustration when you pull away and step off of his lap. He’s embarrassingly hard now but his drunk self doesn’t try very hard to hide it. Taehyung’s stare is settled on Jungkook as you walk back to your seat but, before you can even sit down, Taehyung is beckoning you over.
“Come here, babe,” he hums. You look at him curiously but move in his direction. “What do you say we help Jungkook with his problem, huh?”
“Help? How?” You question.
“Come sit,” Taehyung gestures to his thigh.
Jungkook watches with silent seething jealousy as you take a seat on Taehyung’s thigh and then he’s kissing you, pressing his lips against your neck. You react almost instantly, your head craning to allow him more access and your eyes clamp shut, your mouth hanging open in delight.
“Tae━” You mewl, tugging at his hair, as if to prompt him wordlessly about Jungkook’s presence. But when does it become too much? Every action seems to keep building and building, that you know where the night surely must be heading; that you crave it.
Taehyung’s tongue swirls at your neck, his lips sucking on the sensitive skin, before he peeks one eye open to look at Jungkook.
“Look at him,” Taehyung hums against you. “Look at how jealous he is right now. Look at how bad he wants to be me right now.”
You take a moment to register his words, your head spinning. You struggle to find Jungkook as Taehyung continues to ravish your neck. Jungkook’s stare is hard, his jaw clenched; his hands are balled into tight fists that let you see the bulging veins in his arms. Is he jealous? Angry?
Taehyung suddenly bites down onto your neck and you gasp in surprise, leaning against his chest. His nimble fingers find the hem of your shirt which he lifts and discards on the floor with ease. Next to come off is your bra. You don’t realize your torso is bare until a slight breeze hits your breasts and perks your nipples and Taehyung reaches up to cup the soft tissue in his large hands and Jungkook can’t look away because, fuck, touching you is all he really wants to do.
“Do you see him staring now?” Taehyung asks. “Do you see how desperate he is for you? Look at how bad he wants to touch you right now, baby girl. Will you let him?”
You’re still staring at Jungkook as Taehyung speaks and note how fast Jungkook’s demeanour has changed. He looks helpless, his erection more prominent in his straining jeans which he shamelessly palms at to feel some sort of relief.
“Better yet,” Taehyung hums, averting your attention back to him. He’s sliding one of his hands down your front and in between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. His digits come in contact with your clothed pussy and the sudden touch, light and feathery, makes you jump and gasp. You hadn’t been aware of how wet you had been until he touched you just then and the coil in your stomach only tightens with each passing second. “Will you let him play with you?”
It takes you a second to respond, though that isn’t because you’re struggling to decide. The thought entices you far more than you ever believed it could. Taehyung is suddenly rubbing his fingers against your clothed clit in so very slow circles that it suddenly has you tripping over your own thoughts. You’re biting hard onto your lower lip as you force yourself to nod hastily.
“Do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.
“Fuck, yes,” You whine. “Mmm, Tae━”
Taehyung shifts you in his lap so that your back is pressed against his chest, leaning all your weight against him. It’s hard to focus as one of his hands fondles one of your breasts while his other presses figure eights onto your clit. You’re on full display for Jungkook now, though his eyes fall to the wet spot that forms on your pretty little underwear as your arousal leaks from you.
“How badly do you want him to?” Taehyung asks.
“So badly,” You whimper.
This catches Jungkook’s attention and he leans forward in his seat. Taehyung smirks against you and then he’s moving, withdrawing his hand from between your thighs to hook around the waistband of your underwear. He gives it a quick tug and you fumble to lift your hips so he can pull the useless fabric down your legs. Once it pools at your feet, you kick it off to the side and then Taehyung’s hand returns between your thighs.
“Spread your legs,” he says.
You do as you’re told, pushing your thighs apart but then instinctively squeezing them shut when Taehyung continues to press his fingers against your clit. The sudden stimulation is too much for you and your face begins to heat up so Taehyung uses the chance to push your legs apart for you. He hitches one of your thighs over his own as if to anchor you in place and it works.
“Can you stay like that for me, baby?” Taehyung drawls. “Look at Jungkook for me.”
You nod, your throat dry as you lift your gaze to lock eyes once more with Jungkook. You find the boy gawking at your sex and you moan suddenly. His head snaps up to stare at you with a sudden blazing determination and lust in his eyes before they fall once more to your pussy, admiring the way it pulsates each time Taehyung swipes at your clit or tweaks at your nipples. But the best part? The best part is just how wet you are, your clear juices coating Taehyung’s fingers, spilling onto yours and Taehyung’s thighs with the passing seconds, and suddenly Jungkook is hungry for you. But what he doesn’t know is how you suddenly imagine Jungkook in Taehyung’s place, sat beneath you poised daintily on his lap, his fingers pressing against you.
You twist on top of Taehyung, your own hand reaching up to grasp at your other breast, pinching at the nipple tightly. A delighted moan fumbles from your lips. “Jungkook━ Fuck━”
“It’s nice, yeah?” Taehyung asks aloud to the other boy. “She’s pretty, hm?”
Jungkook nods eagerly and then groans. “She’s dripping. Fuck, it’s so hot.”
Your face burns at his words but you don’t have enough wits to think of a snarky retort like usual.
Taehyung chuckles. “Why don’t you come here then and touch her? Taste her? Is that okay, baby?”
When you realize Taehyung is asking you, you nod eagerly. “Shit, please━ Jungkook, wanna feel you━”
At your request, Jungkook practically tumbles out of his seat. As soon as he’s standing on his feet, the realization seems to hit him and he takes his time, walking to you slowly. His gaze sweeps over your exposed body and he licks his lips, his eyes suddenly darkening. Taehyung doesn’t stop touching you or marking your neck his even as Jungkook walks closer and it hits you in that moment what exactly you’re doing and who you’re with ━ and you fucking love it. Jungkook kneels down in front of you and Taehyung nods in encouragement.
“She’s impatient and feisty,” Taehyung informs. “But that makes her fun to tease.”
“I know how to pleasure a girl,” Jungkook quips.
“But you don’t know how to pleasure Y/N,” Taehyung replies. “You’re too cocky, Jungkookie, and she doesn’t like that. You need to take your time with her and you don’t do that often with girls, do you?”
Jungkook doesn’t respond but, judging by his face, you assume Taehyung is right.
“What do you want me to do?” Jungkook asks. He’s staring at your face now and only your face. His intense stare makes you squirm on Taehyung’s lap, and makes you suck your lower lip between your teeth.
“Touch me,” You rasp. “Touch me, please, Jungkook.”
God, how he loves hearing you moan his name. But the anticipation is killing you. You’ve felt Taehyung’s fingers plenty of time; you’ve never felt Jungkook’s, and the abrupt need seems to grow more intense with each passing second.
“You heard her, Jungkookie,” Taehyung says. He draws his hand away from your heat and kisses your neck softly. “Go on. Touch her. Be gentle, go slow.”
Jungkook is shaking with excitement ━ or maybe it’s just the weed and alcohol in his bloodstream ━ but he eyes you carefully, gnawing down on his lower lip. He reaches out at a tedious pace and hesitates, his fingers hovering over your core. Taehyung is watching with eager eyes whilst planting open mouthed kisses along your shoulders, neck, and jawline. Jungkook finally presses his fingers against your pussy and your reaction is immediate. You toss your head back against Taehyung’s shoulder and jutt your hips forward.
“Nnngh, fuck, Kook━” You whimper. “M-More━ Wanna feel more━”
Jungkook takes that as a good sign and follows after Taehyung, rubbing circles into your clit slowly. He feels just how wet you are, his fingers coating with your cum as they move with ease past your folds, and it’s enough to let the wave of glee wash over him again.
“See? Look how much she loves it already,” Taehyung says. “Keep going.”
Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. As he rubs his fingers over your clit, his other hand comes up in a greedy fashion. He can’t stop himself from slipping a finger past your folds and it takes all you can not to moan out loud but you give up on the prospect of remaining quiet when it feels so good to have both boys on you.
“Let him know how you feel, baby,” Taehyung purs. “How he’s making you feel.”
You struggle to find your voice momentarily, too caught up with the lust and desire but then a cry of delight falls from your lips. “Fuck, ah, Jungkook! That feels s-so good━”
Jungkook’s head snaps up to look at you in pure disbelief.
“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” he huffs. “I never thought you’d moan my name and now you’re so wet and tight and for me━”
“And me,” Taehyung admonishes offhandedly.
Jungkook doesn’t reply but that’s mostly because he’s suddenly fixated on curling his finger inside of you and watching your every reaction. Your hips jut forward and you cry out, panting at the blissful feeling but it isn’t enough. You need more, and you need more now. As if Taehyung can read your mind, he chimes in again, disrupting yours and Jungkook’s reverie.
“Why don’t you have a taste of her?” he asks. “You won’t regret it.”
Jungkook’s eyes light up and he watches as you nod eagerly, desperate pleas coming from your mouth. Jungkook lowers himself down between your thighs and you wait with bated breath before he’s licking a clean stripe against your folds with his flattened tongue. The sudden slippery warmth has your body writhing in pleasure.
“Jungkook━” You cry out. “Oh my god━”
Jungkook grins. Then he’s licking at you again, tasting your sweet succulence, and groans into your hot core.
“Shit,” Jungkook huffs. “You taste amazing.”
He nibbles down slightly on your clit without warning and tugs. You instantly jerk into his mouth, a strangled moan ripping from your throat that sounds something like a scold of his name and a desperate plea for more. “Jungkook!”
Taehyung snickers against your neck and you can feel Jungkook’s lips curl into a taunting smirk between your thighs. Jungkook’s finger still curls deep within you as his tongue returns to lapping at your clit and you can feel his nose brushing against you the deeper he burrows into you. Meanwhile, Taehyung is continuing to ravish your neck, his hands tweaking at your nipples. The onslaught of senses is so much for you that you nearly scream when Jungkook’s tongue dips into your heat so suddenly to accompany his finger. He laps at you hungrily and you gasp, your breath stuttering as your hands come down to tug hard in his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth. It feels fantastic, too incredible for you to put into words, as you feel the wetness of his tongue lap at your walls and suddenly you’re aware of just how susceptible you are to both of the boys near you.
“Fuck, don’t stop, Jungkook,” You moan.
“Now who’s the needy one?” Jungkook coos against your cunt. “Gonna cum on my tongue?”
“P-Please━ Want it so badly, Kook━”
He smacks his lips against you, taking as much as he can of you into his mouth and sucking hard until all you hear are the lewd wet sounds of his tongue and finger working miracles against you. You’re clutching his hair so tight, pushing him closer into your heat but he doesn’t relent. One of his hands comes up to hold onto your waist, to push you firmly back onto Taehyung’s lap and closer into Jungkook’s mouth. You can feel Taehyung’s budding erection poking against your thigh and it’s enough to make you flustered once more.
In an attempt to help Taehyung, you find yourself grinding not only into Jungkook’s mouth but onto Taehyung’s lap, earning a growl into your neck. Taehyung’s free hand comes up to your chin which he grabs roughly. He forces you to look at him and then he’s smashing his lips onto yours in a heated fashion for an entirely ungraceful kiss. It’s needy and hot, completely open mouthed as your tongues mingle in the air and as Taehyung sucks on your lower lip. Yet you tear your gaze from Taehyung to look down at Jungkook as he buries himself further into your pussy, his nose nuzzling against your clit. You’re dripping by now and you can see your own juices smear onto his lips, dribble down to his chin, and it’s the hottest thing you could ever imagine seeing. He doesn’t seem to care as it spills down his neck and suddenly the mere sight has you squirming again. You part from Taehyung’s mouth with a wet pop that rings in your ears and moan.
“Fuck━ nghn, I━I━ think I’m close,” You whimper.
“Fuuck, yes,” Jungkook growls against you.
“Let it go, baby,” Taehyung hums, nibbling at your ear. “Cum for him, for us.”
Jungkook’s pace quickens, pumping his finger faster in you and sucking at your clit until you have no more strength to hold off. Your hands fumble in his hair, trying desperately to pull him closer, and you hate how badly you want your sweet release already. It doesn’t help when Taehyung twists your body ever so slightly so that he can lean down to your breasts and catch one of your nipples between his teeth. His tongue swishes back and forth against the perked bud and you whimper again, the coil in your stomach tightening and loosening.
You’re so close now and Jungkook can hear it, can feel it, can taste it. You don’t have much longer after that before your orgasm is hitting you hard.
“I’m gonna━” You reach out to grasp at Jungkook’s hair, tugging at the roots. “Fuck, Jungkook━”
You cry out suddenly, the coil in your stomach springing apart. Jungkook moans into your pussy as you cum, pulsating around his tongue and finger and dripping into his mouth. You’re reduced to nothing but a whimpering, writhing mess against Taehyung as you buck back and forth into Jungkook’s mouth to ride out your high. Taehyung pulls apart from you to rub circles into your hips and the seemingly gentle move somehow soothes the intense wave of pleasure into something much sweeter. Fire burns at your core and flicks outward until your whole body is warm and numb and then you collapse against Taehyung’s chest, panting hard. Jungkook drinks up every last bit of you and you begin to cringe at the oversensitivity before you gain some of your wits again. You push his head away hastily and this time he relents.
“Did all your little happy wet dreams finally come true, Jeon?” You snicker languidly.
The boy sits back on his knees and looks up at you, locking gazes with yours. You can finally see his face, his tousled black hair, his swollen red lips, and chin, all of which are covered in your perfect sheen. He licks at his lips and wipes at his chin and neck where his tongue can’t reach and he does all of this without breaking eye contact with you. A small smirk forms on his face and suddenly you’re filled with an intense need for payback.
“Yeah, you act confident now but you seemed to enjoy it when you were riding my face,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, about to reply before he adds, “So, you’re welcome.”
“You’re impossible,” You huff, pushing yourself off of Taehyung’s lap.
“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Taehyung mewls behind you. “We still need you.”
“Oh, I know,” You quip. You reach down to grab onto Jungkook’s chin, forcing him to look up at you. “But it’s my turn, don’t you think, Tae?”
Taehyung chuckles and nods in agreement. Jungkook, however, hardly looks bothered, though he seems a little taken aback by your sudden assertiveness when you begin pulling him up to his feet before pushing him back onto the bed. Taehyung scoots over so that the three of you can fit comfortably on his bed and then you’re moving, crawling over to Jungkook on your hands and knees.
“Are you trying to intimidate me?” Jungkook asks. “Because this is sexier than it is scary.”
You’re hovering over his crotch when he speaks, your greedy hands reaching forward to brush against his hard dick straining in his jeans. He nearly jolts in his seat at the sudden touch and you and Taehyung giggle again.
“Mmm, baby, teach him a lesson,” Taehyung hums. “Suck him off nice and slow but don’t let him cum.”
“Not unless he begs for it,” You say wickedly.
Taehyung stifles a chuckle. “I told you she’s feisty, Jungkookie.”
The younger boy is eyeing you carefully as you busy yourself by undoing the belt buckle on his jeans. He acts unimpressed, unfazed, as you unbutton his jeans and began sliding them off his legs, but you can see the needy and impatient glint in his eyes. Your eyes fall immediately to the ever present straining bulge in his boxers and you gulp in response, licking your lips. You can’t help yourself when you reach out to brush your fingers faintly along his length. He jolts in his seat and grits his teeth, shooting you a hard glare.
“Are you seriously going to tease me?” Jungkook grumbles. “We can skip all of that, y’know━”
“It’s payback, Jeon,” You hum, running your fingers down his dick and then back up again. “Where’s the fun in it if I skip all of the teasing?”
“You know,” Taehyung murmurs from beside you. He’s reclining back, watching you with intense eyes and is completely shameless about his prominent erection contained by his boxers. “I’m surprised the idiot hasn’t referred to his dick yet as Jungcock.”
You giggle, an all too innocent and sweet sound for the way you’re palming at Jungkook’s dick. Jungkook, who is apparently having a rather difficult time keeping up with his surroundings while your fingers continue to work against him, scoffs. His eyebrows knit together as he throws a beady glare at the older boy.
“You’re ruining the mood,” he grunts.
Taehyung clicks his tongue against his teeth, a smirk tugging at his luscious lips. “Of course. I digress.”
You turn your attention back to Jungkook who’s staring down at your hand with parted lips and a crease in his brows. Without warning, you grasp him through his boxers and he groans suddenly, bucking forward. The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you peel back the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his dick which springs out from it’s confines. He’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it.
“You’re staring again,” Jungkook hums when he notices you pause, your eyes wide. “Sure you don’t like what you see?”
You shake yourself from your daze and frown. “Shut up.”
The boy starts to chuckle at your flustered expression but yelps when you clasp your fingers around the base of his cock. A beautiful moan falls from his lips and excites you even more. You start pumping him slowly, guiding your hands up and down his length in careful and measured motions, wiping your thumb across his tip each time you reach it. Jungkook shudders in your touch, his teeth coming down to gnaw hard on his lower lip. His eyes are glued to your hands working against him, his face scrunching up in pure euphoria.
“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts, his head lolling back. “Stop teasing me and go faster.”
You don’t listen. If anything, you slow your pace and it has him so frustrated that he lets an involuntary whimper escape him. He bucks into your clenched hand, practically begging for more but remains quiet, safe for his heavy panting.
“You heard her, Kook,” Taehyung says. “Beg for her.”
“There’s no way I’m begging,” Jungkook hisses through gritted teeth. “Never. I never have and never will.”
“Bullshit,” You scoff. You fondle at his balls with your other hand and he moans again. Your hand comes to a complete halt all of a sudden, interrupting Jungkook as he is about to speak. Before he can protest, you lean down and lick at his tip, swirling your tongue around him once to taste his saltiness. His hips rut forward into you but you pull back almost immediately and find Jungkook gaping. You meet his desperate eyes for a steady gaze. “Beg. Just once, Jungkookie.”
Jungkook’s stare wavers as you run your fingers along his tip, squeezing slightly. He tries to compose himself, to remain calm, but when you are relentless, he caves very easily. He only gives in when you kiss the base of his cock. And those eyes ━ fuck, the way your eyes turn so wide and already look so fucked out. How could he resist you?
“Fuck, fuck, okay,” he gasps. “I need more, baby, please. Ah, please━ You feel so fucking good.”
His needy pleas satisfy you and your lips curl into a devious grin. You lower yourself on him suddenly, licking a clean stripe up his length and he moans loudly. You enclose your mouth around his tip and suck, earning a small growl from him as he pushes his hips forward for more. In the next second, you sink your mouth down his length, taking as much of him as you can.
“Fuck!” he moans abruptly. “Ahh, shit, that feels amazing, baby.”
You hollow out your cheeks as you pull your head up and then back down, starting at an even pace that has him moaning and writhing beneath you. He feels much bigger in your mouth but you don’t mind even when he bucks himself into you unexpectedly and hits the back of your throat. The action makes you gag around him and, in return, he curses at the way it feels.
“K-Keep doing that,” he mumbles. “Please, fuck, just like that.”
His fingers thread in your hair and he pulls you down greedily on him but you don’t refuse.
“Can you do it, baby girl?” Taehyung questions. His hand finds his way on your back where he rubs gentle circles into your skin. “Can you take all of him in your mouth?”
You nod carefully around Jungkook’s hardened length.
“Good girl,” Taehyung smirks. “Go slow.”
You follow his orders, sinking gradually onto Jungkook until you feel the tip of him hitting the back of your throat. You gag once more but, instead of pulling back, you shut your eyes and take a few deep breaths in through your nose. In, out, in, out, and then you swallow. Jungkook’s reaction is sudden and intense. He bucks into your mouth unwillingly and moans even louder, his fingers clutching at your roots.
“That’s it, baby,” Taehyung hums and his sudden presence is comforting.
“A-Again,” Jungkook stammers. “Again, please━ holy shit, you feel amazing.”
You swallow again and then a third and each time you can feel yourself sinking lower onto him. Tears prickle at your eyes as your nose is suddenly pressed against his lower abdomen but his reactions are well worth it and so you continue.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung says, planting a chaste kiss against your shoulder. “You deserve some more attention, hm?”
His fingers slowly rub circles down your back, his lips following your arch and has you shivering beneath him, before stopping at the dip just above your ass. He’s kneeling behind you now, his fingers massaging into your thighs. You sigh against Jungkook when you feel Taehyung’s fingers continue their trek to your ass, rubbing you carefully. You, in response, push your hips back, waiting for more.
“You’re still so wet, baby,” Taehyung says. “I bet you’d come with one touch of my finger.”
With Jungkook buried hilt deep inside your mouth, you’re hardly prepared for when Taehyung slips his fingers underneath to your folds. It’s embarrassing to admit how right he is. You react instantly, moaning around Jungkook and jutting your hips back for more. The simple vibration has Jungkook groaning, his hips bucking forward. You hadn’t even been aware of just how wet you are before Taehyung pointed it out but then you can feel it, pulsing out of you and dripping down the top of your inner thighs.
“But you need more, don’t you?” Taehyung asks. “How about my cock? Will you let me fuck you, baby girl?”
You nod eagerly, the simple question exciting you even more. Taehyung chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to the arch of your back.
“But you’ll have to be good and keep pleasuring Jungkook too, okay?” Taehyung says.
You hum in response and swallow around Jungkook as if to tell both boys that you have no plans on stopping. Jungkook twitches inside you and scrunches his eyes shut.
“Fuck, Taehyung,” he grumbles. “Hurry up. Any time you touch her, she swallows. It feels so good.”
Taehyung snickers but he takes his time. He runs his fingers up and down your folds until you’re moaning needily against Jungkook. You look over your shoulder to see Taehyung’s fingers wrapped around his own hardened and pulsating erection, pumping himself a few times as he stares at you carefully. He positions himself behind you and takes the chance to run his tip and length along your folds. You whimper suddenly, hoping your desperate noises will spur him on.
“You want more, baby?” Taehyung asks.
You hum again, your voice muffled and hoarse.
“Okay,” he sighs. “Only because you’ve been so good.”
You have no time to brace yourself from the sudden impact of feelings. He doesn’t do much except for push himself into you, past your folds. It’s only just the tip and yet your heart jolts in your chest, the coil in your stomach tightens. It feels so good to finally have something of larger girth in you that you gap, simultaneously sinking down further onto Jungkook. The two boys grunt above you, both of them panting hard.
“You feel so good, baby,” Taehyung mumbles. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”
He leans down to press a kiss against your shoulder, his other hand coming up to rest on the dip of your lower back to guide you. He slowly, so very slowly, pushes himself into you, inch by inch, so you can feel the way he stretches you open, feel the way he buries into you. Your leaking arousal only proves to be of an advantage, letting him easily push into you without any trouble. Your fingers grip the bed sheets beneath you in an ironclad grip and you squeak when he’s finally buried hilt deep within you. You nearly gag around Jungkook again, who’s still panting and writhing above you, but the way Taehyung’s tongue marks patterns into your shoulder comforts you. You whine against Jungkook, pushing your hips back for more and the simplicity of your action has Taehyung’s breath hitching in his throat.
“So warm,” he grunts and then sighs against your back. “You always feel so amazing.”
He still hasn’t moved and you’re beginning to grow impatient, distraught over the feeling of him rock hard inside you but unmoving. You debate pulling apart from Jungkook to yell at Taehyung but you assume he can understand your haste judging by the way your body writhes beneath him, your fingers clench into fists. He pulls out in one languid movement, his breath stuttering, until only his tip is left before he pushes himself back in, equally as slow. He sets at a steady, easy pace that, at the very least, lets you grasp onto some sensible thoughts and pushes you to keep pleasing Jungkook. Jungkook can’t take it anymore; he starts rutting his hips up into your mouth with gritted teeth. It’s a hot, erotic mess of mingled moans and groans but you never want it to stop ━ in fact, you want more.
“You like that, baby?” Taehyung grunts.
You nod hurriedly, humming in response.
“Ah, fuck━” Taehyung groans. “Want it harder?”
You nod once more, this time eagerly. When Taehyung pulls back one more time, he slams himself back into you without any warning and you jerk forward, sinking down onto Jungkook. The younger boy moans, his head lolling back as his fingers twisting in your hair. You don’t expect Taehyung to do the same thing again, pull out slowly and then push himself back in with more force, but he does, and he repeats the action again and again until he abandons it for a whole new pace. Soon, he’s thrusting into you hard and fast but always making sure his hips reconnect with yours before pulling out so you can feel him practically in your throat.
“Like being fucked like this?” Taehyung asks. “You like being used like a little slut?”
His thrusts are relentless suddenly, jerking your body and back and forth until he’s fucking you in a way that has you sucking off Jungkook just right so that you hardly have to put in any effort. Although his hard thrusts feel amazing, each time you’re pushed forward, you sink further down onto Jungkook unwillingly and that, paired with the way Jungkook frantically fucks himself into your mouth, you nearly gag each time as he hits the back of your throat, drool pooling at your lips and dribbling down your chin. Tears prick at your eyes from the feeling and it’s too pleasing to quit, to pull away from Jungkook just yet. Jungkook’s staring down at you when he notices your scrunched up face. You’re surprised when his hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing reassuringly into your cheekbone.
“You’re doing so━ ah, fuck━ so well, baby,” he rasps.
You can taste the saltiness of precum on the tip of your tongue and you wonder how close he is. You have no qualms in finishing him off then and there but soon the pleasure you’re receiving from Taehyung becomes too much. Soon, he’s hitting you at an angle that shakes something in you. You pull apart from Jungkook with a loud pop, saliva and cum coating his length and your lips, and a gasp wretches from your throat.
“Fuck!” You cry hoarsely. “Ah, T-Taehyung!”
You’re too weak to push yourself up and end up burying your head in Jungkook’s lower abdomen, feeling the heat consume you. You’re near numb, senseless, as you let Taehyung ravish your body, fuck you hard into the mattress and Jungkook. It’s a frantic build up, an intense wave of emotions that you seem to pass through, and you can hardly bring yourself to react. All you can hear is the sound of moaning and skin against skin and the heat seems to make its way up to your head, making you warm and fuzzy. Jungkook gently pulls at your face, lifting you up and bringing you to him so that he can smash his lips onto yours and all you can taste is bitter liquor, you, and him, but that doesn’t stop him from sucking on your lower lip even when you pull apart to moan and gasp.
“T-Tae,” You sob. “Fuck, Tae, I━I’m c━close━”
“Cum for me, baby girl,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you.”
You shake your head frantically at the sensitive sting between your legs still raw from your orgasm from Jungkook, shutting your eyes. Taehyung’s hands find their way onto your hips and he pulls you down his length until you’re balls deep and pauses. He lifts your hips and you can feel him twitch inside you that it even makes your own thighs tremble and shake. You’re sure you’ll collapse on him if he doesn’t hold onto you and he must realize this too because he grips your hips tight to continue thrusting into you. Soon you’re tumbling towards your high. Taehyung’s pumps are frantic, growing sloppy with each passing second, as he pushes you to yours and his high. The coil snaps in your stomach again and you’re in a moment of freefall where you’re stunned by the wave of pleasure. Then, Taehyung is bringing you back down to reality with his hard thrusts, the way he moans, and the lewd wet sounds of him pumping himself into you.
“Ah, T-Tae━” You whimper. “So good, fuck━”
His name falls from your lips in a repeated mantra. You crumble beneath him, collapsing entirely against Jungkook, who’s brushing your hair away from your face. You’re shaking with each touch, your walls pulsing around Taehyung and clenching hard. He moans and curses behind you and you know he must be close to his high because he, too, is fumbling for it. His thrusts are even more hasty and soon he’s reaching his climax. His moans increase in volume and his thrusts become sloppier until he finally pulls his cock from your walls and nearly collapses against your back.
With his hand clenched tightly around his shaft, he jerks himself off until he’s releasing onto your back in white hot spurts. He’s panting hard, sweat coating his forehead, but he takes the time to press chaste kisses along your back and shoulders as the two of you attempt to calm your shrill hearts. It’s silent in the room for a moment despite your panting breaths. Taehyung takes a moment to grab his discarded shirt and wipe at the mess he’s made before he collapses next to you at long last with a huff of air. You moan wearily, rolling off of Jungkook to lay on your back between the two.
“God, you’re amazing,” Taehyung sighs.
You giggle up at the boy and lean towards him to kiss. His fingers rake in your hair and a few silent seconds pass before you’re nearly back to an even breathing pace. That’s when you notice Jungkook, his hand gripped tightly around his still painfully hard dick.
“Jungkook,” You pur his name, catching his attention. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like?” he quips.
“It’s your turn,” Taehyung points out. Jungkook glances at Taehyung and then down at you, quirking an eyebrow.
“W-Well, I just thought━” Jungkook stammers. “I just thought you’ve had enough. It’s okay, you don’t have to.”
“I call bullshit again,” You scoff.
“Baby girl,” Taehyung hums, “do you want Jungkookie to fuck you?”
You nod eagerly but Jungkook doesn’t seem too convinced, or maybe he’s hesitant. Taehyung’s eyeing him closely, curiously, before he gaps. He bursts out into a fit of chuckles, earning both yours and Jungkook’s attention.
“Shit, of course,” Taehyung grins. “He’s probably gonna let go the minute he’s in you. You’re close, hm?”
“Only because she’s already been down on me,” Jungkook grumbles.
“You know that’s not it,” Taehyung replies. “You’ve been wanting this forever.”
Jungkook’s eyes suddenly darken as he glares at the older boy. “Taehyung.”
“Wait, what?” You ask, turning to gawk at both.
“Jungkook has a little crush on you,” Taehyung smirks. “This is all he’s ever wanted. I bet he’ll bust a nut the second he fucks you and he’s embarrassed.”
You gasp as you turn to face Jungkook who looks entirely disgruntled but you’re more shocked about the fact that Jungkook likes you than anything else. Jungkook, notoriously arrogant fuckboy, who’s seemingly made it his mission to give you a headache every waking moment by trying to flirt with you. And maybe you’ve always sort of known it; maybe you’ve always sort of felt the same.
“That’s not true!” Jungkook protests. “I━I━ Well, Tae hardly finishes when he’s with another girl. He’s jacked off to the thought of you before, too━”
Taehyung starts. “Fuck off━”
You’re stuck between the bickering boys, staring up at both of them with a dumbfounded expression. Before either boy can strangle the other, you’re speaking up and interrupting them.
“I don’t mind,” You say. “I’m just… surprised.”
Both boys are silent now, aggravated probably, and you giggle. You reach up to rake your fingers in Taehyung’s hair and then look up at Jungkook, using your other hand to grab onto his chin once more and force him to face you.
“Come here, you idiot,” You drawl. “I want you to fuck me. Wanna feel your dick.”
Jungkook seems taken aback but then his eyes are sweeping down your body and he writhes in his seat. Before he can protest, you’re pulling him down onto you to kiss. It’s passionate and rough but hot altogether as your lips smack against one anothers. Jungkook’s desperate situation seems to hit him again, especially when you snake one of your hands down to his length and wrap your fingers around him to jerk him off. He pulls apart from you, gulping.
“Fuck, okay, okay,” he gasps. “I need to be in you right now, please.”
You and Taehyung smirk as Jungkook shifts around on the bed to kneel between your legs. He pauses, glancing up at you once more and noting the way you bite your lower lip seductively, before finally pushing himself in. He goes slow, but not as gradual as Taehyung. You can still feel him stretching you open and he groans. He seems to slide the rest of the way in with a lewd squelch sound because of just how wet you are and then he’s buried balls deep, fitting so snug within you.
“Holy shit,” he whines. “You weren’t kidding, Tae. She feels amazing.”
Taehyung hums in agreement. “What does she feel like? Let her know, Kookie.”
Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut momentarily to focus. “Wet,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Warm, tight ━ fuck, so tight.”
He marvels at the feeling, wonders how you can still clench so tightly around him despite being stretched wide by Taehyung. He bows his head to rest in the crook of your neck and moans. His words are enough to spur on your own reaction and you whimper against him.
“Oh, fuck, Jungkook━”
The sensitivity you feel in your core met with his hard cock makes you cringe but simultaneously pleases you and you’re bucking your hips for more. He groans at the feeling, his hands flying down to grip your hips. He’s big, stretching you wide, but you feel anything but pain except for the sharp burning sensation as the intensity of your past orgasms start to hit you. He rolls his hips back and then thrusts into you so hard that you yelp and jerk back on the bed.
“Go easy on her, Jungkook,” Taehyung admonishes. “She’s not a doll.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook sighs, nipping at your throat. “You just feel so good, Y/N.”
“I’m okay,” You reassure. You feel his length twitch within you and your head lolls back. “Fuck, I feel more than okay.”
“Can we try something?” Taehyung asks.
He receives two weak nods in response. Jungkook pauses, shifts the two of you until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips, his dick never once slipping from your core. The older boy grabs onto you and yanks you onto his hips.
“What do you say we give Y/N the pleasure she deserves?” he asks. He pushes his length past your folds and is rewarded by the sound of your moans as your jaw unhinges. “Think you can handle both of us, baby?”
“Fuck, yes,” You gasp.
Jungkook seems just as enticed by this. He’s careful as he pushes his cock into you and your reaction is explosive. With Taehyung already stretching you wide, you wonder how Jungkook will fit but it’s snug and perfect. You can feel him stretching you further, inch by glorious inch, and he hasn’t even begun moving when your walls clench around the two of them. Taehyung hisses in your ear and Jungkook pauses at once, sputtering for air, giving you time to adjust. When Jungkook pushes himself further into your cunt, rubbing against Taehyung’s cock and your own walls, you can’t help the delicious moan that falls from your lips.
“Oh my god,” You whimper. “Fuck, fuck, that feels so fucking good━”
It’s such a sticky, hot mess, and all you can hear is the sound of guttural moans and grunts. You jut your hips forward, a silent plea for something more. Jungkook’s hand grasps at your ass and then he’s pulling out. He growls suddenly, thrusting his hips forward and the sensation suddenly overwhelms you. As he picks up a pace that leaves you breathless, Taehyung slowly thrusts into you and the pleasure becomes too much. Your hands reach out to grab at anything, fingers digging eagerly into Jungkook’s chest, Taehyung’s sides.
“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook grunts. His face is scrunched in pleasure and concentration, his mouth hanging open.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” Taehyung growls. “You like being stretched wide like this, huh? Such a good girl too. Fuck━”
He’s sweating, but so are you, and all you can hear is the sound of yours and the boys’ moans, the vulgar wet slap with each thrust Jungkook makes. It’s only amplified with each small leisurely thrust Taehyung makes into your throbbing pussy, his dick rubbing against Jungkook’s with each thrust. Your walls tighten around Jungkook and Taehyung as the seconds pass and you know you’re already close to your third orgasm of the night but you try to hold off despite the room spinning. All you can do is lay there for Jungkook to ravish and control, for Taehyung to enjoy, too caught up in the moment. Your breasts bounce wildly with each thrust Jungkook makes and his gaze seems fixated on your chest before flickering down to watch himself disappear inside you each time. Taehyung is raking his fingers through your hair, soothing you through your next climax and it’s close.
“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, panting hard. “I’m not gonna last.”
You push your hips forward as if to probe him on and he growls.
“No, shit, let me enjoy this, baby,” he whines. “Ah, so tight━”
He’s grumbling to himself, cursing under his breath and you smirk tiredly. Jungkook leans his head down to kiss at your chest, catching one of your nipples in his warm mouth. His tongue swishes back and forth over the perked bud and your chest arches into his face. Your fingers are clutching tight at his hair even as he obeys and adds more force with each thrust, slowly picking up his pace. His mouth widens and he sinks lower on your breast, humming against you in pleasure. Taehyung’s own pace quickens. It’s not as relentless as Jungkook’s but he makes sure to help aid you to your high, ramming his hips into yours until both their cocks slip into a seamless pattern. All you can focus on is the crude wetness, the way their dicks threaten to slip from your hold at how sloppy and wrecked your cunt becomes.
“Ah, yes,” You hiss. “Fuck, yes, yes━ So good, oh my god━ Right there━”
Your voice is cut off by a loud moan. You feel the familiar wave hit you once more and this time you hardly have any strength to fight it off or welcome it.
“I can’t━” You wail suddenly. “Fuck, I can’t━ I’m gonna cum━”
You’re fumbling for words to warn him that you’re close before you’re cuming around them. Their names wrench from your throat in no discernible pattern, accompanied by vulgar curses. Your body writhes between the two boys, your chest arching into his mouth, your legs tightening around Jungkook’s waist.
“You’re doing so well, baby,” Jungkook coos. “Come on, wanna feel you cream all over us━”
Stars form behind your eyelids and explode into galaxies as they swirl down your spine and to the tip of your toes, making them and your fingers curl in delight. Your vision grows blurry and tears stream down your face at the build up of pressure finally being released for the third time and you can’t help it when your mantra turns into delighted sobs and whimpers. You’re clenched so tight that Jungkook feels as if he hardly has any space to move and the confinement of his length has him gasping. He pulls apart from your breast to watch your scrunched up face with hooded eyes. He moans again, and desperately leans down to suck at your jawline.
You’re too spent to keep up with him or Taehyung as he helps you further to your high but you know Jungkook is close when his thrusts become messy, quick spurts. You gasp each time he thrusts up into you until he’s finally cuming.
“Shit,” he hisses. “Gonna cum━ Gonna let us fill you up, baby?”
“Please, please, wanna feel it,” You mewl.
He slams his hips into yours and stills for a moment as he releases into you in one hot wave and emits a beautiful moan of your name. You’re panting hard even as he rides out both your highs with a few more incredibly sloppy pumps before he finally collapses against your chest. The two of you are struggling to catch your breaths, your heart beating in your ears.
The room is silent, blissful, and it takes you a few moments of basking in it before you’ve regained your breath. Your fingers rake in Jungkook’s soft and sweaty hair and you hum in content. His mouth presses a few open mouthed and hot kisses along your neck and jawline before connecting with your own mouth. This time, the kiss is chaste and you smile against his lips before he’s pulling out of you. You moan at the missing feeling of his warmth and the way his own cum leaks from your core, down Taehyung’s cock, and your own thighs.
But Taehyung isn’t done. He thrusts up into you to ride out his own high, pushing Jungkook’s release back into you. His pace is steady, deep, and all you can both do is moan and gasp for air.
“Fuck, Tae,” You rasp tiredly. “Cum for me, baby.”
The boy gasps for air, nearly fumbling behind you to reach his high. “Gonna make this pussy mine. Fuuck━”
When Taehyung finally reaches his own high, it’s in another sticky stream of hot cum, each fluid mingling with the other in a pitiful mess. He pulls his slackened length from you and you whimper at sudden the loss, core and legs aching. As you slide onto the bed between the two tired and breathless boys, Jungkook wipes at your glistening core with a shirt and you sigh in content.
“Why haven’t we done that before?” You gasp, earning a chuckle from both. Jungkook lets out a boisterous laugh and you flick his arm. “If you say anything dumb, we’re never having a round two.”
“Round two?” he asks, wriggling his brows. “You want this to happen again?”
You nod, though you can already start to feel yourself succumb to sleep as it creeps upon you. “What do you think, Tae?”
“I think,” The older boy hums, “that’s your best idea yet.”
Jungkook seems surprised, excited even, and you smile sleepily. Taehyung throws his arm over your waist and pulls your back to his chest, wrapping you in his arms as he slips off to sleep. 
Before you fall asleep that night, you snake your arm up Jungkook’s chest and let your hand rest against his beating heart which you can still feel beating shrilly even long after your messy night together.
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You awake to the familiar sound of your alarm.
It’s loud, annoying, and jolts you awake only to toss you into a haze of muddled confusion and an incredibly terrible hangover. Your head throbs and your body aches. Sunlight splashes in from the closed blinds and illuminates your face, making you squint.
“Turn that off, Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Taehyung snaps, his voice muffled and aggravated.
Your mind is too groggy to realize he’s sleeping next to you, too groggy to suddenly remember what happened the night before. Until, of course, you feel your limbs tangled with not only Taehyung’s but another’s. When you crane your neck to look, you see Jeon Jungkook splayed out beside you sleeping peacefully and you gasp.
The events of the night before suddenly flood your mind and everything is hazy up until your wild time with the two boys. Your muddled sober mind alerts your heart and suddenly it’s beating hard and fast in your chest as you register the situation. You’re used to waking up with a naked Taehyung by your side but never were you used to waking up next to a naked Taehyung and Jungkook.
Jungkook stirs in his sleep then and you curse silently, diving for your phone on the floor before realizing your drastic mistake. Your core is still tender and your legs feel so delicate, nearly caving in beneath you as you wobble precariously. Somehow, you manage to grab your phone and tap the snooze button hastily. Taehyung’s still half asleep on his side but Jungkook lays on his back and you’re surprised to see him looking up at you with a quirked eyebrow and a tiny smirk.
“Don’t you dare say anything,” You hiss. “Holy shit, that wasn’t a dream?”
You gnaw on your lower lip and reach down blindly to grab the nearest article of clothing on the floor (one of Taehyung’s shirts) to toss over your bare body. To soothe your aching muscles, you resort to kneeling on the edge of the bed.
“It wasn’t,” Taehyung murmurs.
“Nice to know you think our dicks are dream worthy though,” Jungkook snorts. “So when’s our round two?”
Your promise from the night before dawns on you all too suddenly and, though you feign your usual annoyance for both boys, the potential prospect of another night with the two of them thrills you to no end.  
“I━ I━” You stammer.
“Come back here, baby,” Taehyung muses. “It’s too early to be up right now. You can sleep a bit longer before you pretend you hate the both of us.”
Your eyes flicker down to your phone to check the time: 6 a.m. You can barely walk, let alone function this early in the morning, even without the added stress of your hangover, and sleep seems far too appealing to ignore. Maybe you can stay for a few more hours…
“Fine,” You grumble. You crawl back between them and wiggle around until you’re laying back on the bed. “But you’re making me that cup of coffee when I wake up, Taehyung.”
“Anything else, princess?” Taehyung grins.
“Maybe run me a bath too,” You wince as you settle back against the bed. “Everything hurts.”
“Will do,” Jungkook says. “Gotta do the most to make sure we get that second round. Now, come here━”
The boys snicker and, soon, the three of you have slipped back into a peaceful slumber.
You know that when you wake you’ll profusely deny that the night before and the morning after had ever happened; that you’ll never again find yourself in either Jungkook’s or Taehyung’s bed, much less with the both of them at the same time ━ but you find that you never really listen much to rules anyway.
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nochueso · 3 months ago
Rich People Shit
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➱ summary: I really just wanted to write rich!Jungkook. Jungkook approaches you with a proposition of friendship. He wants to spoil you shitless with designer everything, and you both end up really fucking liking each other.
➱ word count: 11k
➱ genres: smut, fluff, rich!jk x reader
➱ includes: cursing, unprotected sex (be safe out there yall), virgin!jk, virgin!reader, literally smut idk what to say rlly you're either gonna read it or not lol!
Silently, you sat on the steps of the entrance to a very pristine, very flamboyant, and affluent University. You never thought you’d ever be here nor did you think you’d be sitting on its steps– like an actual student. Yet, here you sit, quietly, mysteriously, with a dash of pride, paging through the “Luxury” magazine in your lap. You sighed for a second, looking away from the glossy pages to take in your surroundings from the top of your sunglasses. You squinted, watching the students parade by. You could tell, you weren’t like them, you may even never be. You may dress like them, talk like them, walk like them, act like them, but on the inside you are not one of them.
On paper, you are not one of them either. You are not a student here.
You looked back at your magazine.
Surely, you applied last year, friends and family pestered you to at least give it a try, then you had actually thought you had a chance. But you see, when you’re not a trust fund baby, or have parents with cash basically flowing out of their assholes, then you really did not have a chance at this school built on classism and wealth. So why were you even here? The thing is, you might actually be a mastermind, or you may just be naively stupid.
You came here to fish.
You were still a student, just not here, your shabbier university– for the commoners– was just a few blocks away, so it was always easy for you to come here between classes, to get your work done, or just contemplate nothing.
There isn’t a pond or lake at this school, nor is there a river or fishing pier. You came here for a very specific kind of fish. Fish without gills. Fish that don’t spend their lives in water. Fish that can walk. Fish with a specific kind of gait that oozes an overflowing bank account. A handsome little fish. A handsome little fish that can make your dreams of owning pieces of fucking name brand clothing true.
Some Gucci to be specific. You like Gucci, maybe even some Dior, and Alexander Wang. You nodded silently at the reminder of your motives.
Today was your fourth Thursday sitting on these god awful steps that pierced your ass bones. Pelvis? Who cares, you’re not an anatomy major. If that’s even a thing– biology, pre-med, most likely is what it’s called.
That means this is your fourth week, and it’s once again coming to a near end. Four weeks. Still no fish. You remind yourself that fishing requires patience. Fishing requires a careful skill of observation and strict mental control. You need to be ready for the slightest tug. The slightest tug of your prey taking the bait you’ve so carefully laid out for them. Your bait was you of course. Who wouldn’t want a taste of you? Well...that wasn’t the best question to ask. Let’s rephrase that. Who wouldn’t want a taste of a classy mystery woman sitting on the steps of a school where only cream of the crop students go? That sounded better. You were oozing confidence out of your pores as you sat on those demonic stairs, your black sunglasses shielding your eyes from the cloudy sky. And your outfit, oh golly gee your outfit... Only the best of the best from your closet ever gets to see these steps. These fucking ste–
“What language is that?”
In the midst of your tumultuous thoughts, you failed to take note of the random stranger who came to sit to your left. Nonchalantly staring over to your magazine, seemingly interested in whatever the hell you were reading. You questioned whether you should even look over, whether you should feign ignorance to push your “mystery” woman agenda. You didn’t have very strong self-restraint. So you turned...slightly. Your face in the direction of his feet, your eyes are however on his.
Jesus, this man was fucking hot. Diabolically so. You had a hot flash just by looking at him. You started getting dizzy too, there were stars flying around him. Perhaps you just got hemorrhoids from how satanically sexy this man was in the face. And you didn’t even get to the rest of him yet. You hoped the rest of him wouldn’t disappoint you. You see, perfect people are rare, it’s either they have a pretty face or a pretty bod. He probably had a missing toe or something with that perfect face of his.
Your answer was simple. Disregard.
You flipped to the next page. Your hands are nearly shaking from the pressure of this ridiculously gorgeous man’s eyes on you. You could feel him drilling holes through you with those evil brown sex eyes. You tried to steady yourself, as unnoticeably as possible. ‘Remember your goal, remember your destiny!’ The voice inside your head yelled.
When he didn’t leave, even after you had ignored his existence, and effect on you, this was your chance to find out if the fish really took the bait and got fucking stuck on it.
“Is there something you need?” You trailed your eyes back to him, once again feigning distaste and annoyance.
He looked down for a bit. You bit your bottom lip, not sure whether you had hurt him with your words. Then he looked out towards the green park in front of you both: a number of students having picnics and walking around in friend groups.
“Trying to talk to people today is so hard. No one wants a stranger coming up to them, it’s not normal anymore. Everyone meets on instagram and snapchat and twitter, sliding into DMs and all that.” He speaks in a low voice, melancholic almost. His elbows on the steps behind him, resting. Fuck he was sexy. You could tell he was genuine. He got up. Shit shit shit shit.
He placed his hands in his pockets, “Just wanted to talk to a pretty girl.” He smiled, his eyes drowning you in guilt. With that he turned around, slowly stepping down the stairs.
“It’s French.” You called out after him. the classic romance language you had chosen to learn as your language requirement. It’s not like you understood much of it, but looking at pretty pictures and deciphering a word and a sentence every now and then was fun, and you used it to convince yourself that you were actually learning from it. You weren’t.
His head turned back towards you, rapidly, with one of the most magnificent smiles you’d ever laid eyes upon. The butterflies in your stomach were having a field day. He came back and sat next to you, this time a bit closer. Close enough to where you could smell him. A sweet smell, not the usual smell of cologne that most men wore. He was wearing ladies perfume. It was odd, but it made you feel more relaxed, like there was no way this man could ever do anything wrong.
“So, are you a linguist major here?” He badgered you with another question. Like a child that had just won a prize at a carnival game. Why he was making assumptions about you was beyond you. It was a bit bothersome though, you never liked when people would ask assumptive questions, why don’t they let you give the details.
“I’m not, if we’re going to talk please stop making assumptions.” You sighed.
“Sorry. My name is Jungkook. And now I’m gonna stop talking and let you tell me about yourself instead...if you want to. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Nervous, that was cute.
“Well...” You looked at him. Unsure of what to tell him. You didn’t want to lie. You hated lying, and you didn’t understand the point of it. Why lie about yourself to others when you can just hide the truth. When you can be deceiving just by saying the right things and leaving the rest out. However though, you were feeling rather bold today, like, you didn’t really give a fuck. Though his face looked so fucking kissable, delectable, ravishing, his outift was rather plain, and one thing you knew about the kids at this school was that they didn’t love anything more than to show off with daddy’s money. The man before you was just wearing a black shirt, black baggy pants and black sneakers. Very simple. Was he just being modest perhaps? Humble. Or was he one of the affirmative action kids? A super smart athlete from a poor home on a full scholarship? Or maybe just a smart kid that got in from his own diligence, from a lower middle class family?
“I’m fishing.” Your words made him raise his eyebrows, perplexed.
“Fishing for what?” You were expecting him to assume something again, but he didn’t, he kept his word, letting you answer.
“Rich little assholes with too much money to spend, so I can offer some assistance in spending that money.” Your eyes squinted with a hint of evil genius.
He laughed. A roar almost. His head was thrown back and his teeth, eerily similar to those of a bunny’s, were now on display, he’s adorable. You flushed, elated, that you made this beautiful human being laugh. You could add this to your bucket list and check it off now if you even had one, ‘1. Make a super, incredibly, sexy, hot, cute, handsome, pretty guy laugh.’ In the box next to it a little check mark to display your success. But your mouth turned into a frown, confused on why he was laughing at your meticulously thought out plan that was sure to score you some sweet sweet cash.
“How’s that going for you?” He said through giggles.
“Not great, haven’t gotten a single fish yet, unfortunately.”
“Why are you doing this, if I may ask?”
“Well, it’s not like I want to get married to them or anything. I guess my reasoning is quite materialistic. I just want some Gucci pieces that I’ve been thinking of for the last two months. I’ve got five-k in my savings, and half the shit on here costs five thousand bucks.” You slap the magazine page in front of you with the back of your palm, like an old smoker upset that his lighter is out of fluid. “The other half more than that. So I had to devise a plan, obviously.” You shrug as if it were obvious and you were explaining to a five year old. You just spilled the entirety of your reasoning to this man you’ve known for five minutes. You should’ve stopped yourself, but there was just something about him that made you tell all the truth, not just tiny bits of it.
That was all he said to you, no laugh this time, not even a giggle or a smile. This time he just looked at you. Glazed over you. Studied you. You felt nervous. You removed your sunglasses, in hopes of looking less ridiculous on a cloudy day. You didn’t notice it, but his eyes sharpened. You worried that you may have scared him off, maybe he was a rich prick and your poverty disgusted him.
Jungkook thought that he had scored. He’d noticed you the first day you sat on those stairs, those stairs that were too tough to sit on, so you were usually the only one on them, he wondered if you were actually comfortable. You were impossible not to be noticed, but maybe that was just him. He always saw you paging through a new magazine, he wondered if you were a fashion student, the way you dressed and the specific magazines that you always seemed to bring.
One could say he had created narratives in his head about you, he gave you a personality, a name, a major, he undressed you with his ey–
He wanted to get to know you. He had spent his past time between classes in his usual spot by the tall, ancient tree at the edge of the park placed perfectly in front of you. And so, he spent each day there, and so did you, and he was delighted to know that he would see you each day, except on weekends. The class he would leave to come here, Economics 101, a pain in the ass, but it ended at 11:45 am every other day. So on the days he had this class, he would be prepared to speed walk, sometimes even sprint out of the classroom at precisely 11:45 each time. He was always the first to walk through the exit doors, just so he wouldn’t miss a single second to see you. Maybe it was creepy, or maybe it was just what they called “Le coup de foudre” he mouthed. Love at first sight.
He knew you weren’t a student here because every student here had tried sitting on those stairs every once in a while, but they’d always find a better place around campus to idle in. You, on the other hand, always returned to the exact same spot, but he couldn’t figure you out. He couldn’t understand why you constantly returned there. So one final day, he ventured out, to finally crack the case, and shatter every other possible story he had created in his mind palace, and perhaps build a real one, where it would be just you and him.
“French,” you had said. But he obviously already knew this. Who couldn’t recognize one of the most famous languages to exist on this earth. He hoped you didn’t think he was stupid, but it would be fare anyways, since you were holding the magazine upside down. He was relieved though, that you had called out for him to return. You gave him a chance, and he wouldn’t waste it.
You shared your diabolical evil genius plan with him, and he was appreciative of the fact that you were so honest with him. He was able to finally connect the last red string to the correct picture on the detective board in his head. But it took him a minute to figure out you weren’t joking.
“Interesting,” he had said. Quizzically studying you when you had spilled your entire scheme to him without a single laugh or even a giggle, snortle, chuckle, swift inhale. Nothing. So he knew you weren’t kidding. Your lip quivered like you had regretted telling him all this information. So, he decided to make an appropriate proposition, a proposition of friendship.
“I’ll buy you whatever you want.”
He watched as you stared at him, mouth slightly agape like you were torn between believing his offer or breaking out in a boisterous laugh. He needed to be a bit more convincing.
“You have five-k in your savings, I have fifty million.” He shifted his gaze from your bewildered face to your upside-down magazine. For someone that was so nonchalant a few minutes ago, you weren’t holding up too well now. He thought about how you wouldn’t actually be able to go through with your plan had it actually been one of these other rich trust fund assholes you had aforementioned. Because first of all, they wouldn’t have stuck around after your first act of obtuseness. He grabbed the magazine out of your nimble fingers, flipped it over, and went back a page. The designer pieces that were seducing you not that long ago, and he brought out his phone that sat in his front pocket. Dialed the little number that hid at the bottom of the page, and you both sat patiently as it rang next to his ear.
“Yes hello, I’d like to purchase the Gucci wool coat with leather details in your...” He flipped the magazine to see its cover. “Luxury twenty twenty-one Spring issue magazine....Yes....Yes the one that costs forty-five hundred...” He glanced over you for a moment to register your reaction, raising an eyebrow as you had your bottom lip between your teeth. Something in him ignited.
“Actually, can you add everything else too? Yes, I’d like to purchase all your uhhh... Gucci and Alexander Wang, Bottega Veneta, Zimmermann, Dior and Chanel pieces on display in your magazine as well...Am I sure? Yes...Oh um..” He glanced back to you, this time seriously eyeing you like a piece of meat. But he was just trying to figure out what kind of size you probably wore. “Can you send (Y/N's usual size) and (a size smaller)? We’ll try them on and return the ones that don’t fit...Yes...Just charge my account Jeon Jungkook, I’m already a member...Yes same shipping address...Thank you.” With his final thanks, he hung up, closed the magazine, and turned to face you.
He found you stuttering something but every time a word came to your tongue you closed your mouth, prohibiting it from escaping the gates of your mind. Jungkook grinned, not a sly grin, not a smirk, a grin of amusement, like he had never seen a sight so rewarding. He understood you now. You weren’t rude, or mean, or crude, you were a sweetheart, a gentle soul, a naive one too. You didn’t think things through, yet you had an immense amount of motivation, that wasn’t something that goes hand in hand but you were lucky, it worked for you. You had put up an act, a poor one at that. You were probably a goofball, the way you hadn’t even been paying attention to your magazine, probably too lost in thought to care for it anymore.
“It’ll all be at my house by tomorrow evening if you want to come pick it up.” He placed the magazine back into your nimble fingers.
Jungkook had no evil intentions or plans, he was truly a genuine guy, kind and endearing once you knew him, he would never try anything that would make you uncomfortable which is why he didn’t ask for your address to send it to.
“Do...” You paused. “Do you want something in return?” You asked. Now Jungkook was hit with a wave of anguish. He knew exactly what you were thinking, or at least he had an idea, you were terrified, and that was the very last thing he wanted. He could see the way you gripped your hands together to keep them from trembling, and he nearly dropped to his knees in apologies. He knew you probably thought that by doing this he had forced you into some sort of putrid debt that you’d be demanded to repay in various forms, and oh did he not want that.
“No!” He nearly yelled, his voice unexpectedly louder than he wanted. “No, I don’t want anything, it’s all yours, I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if I asked for your address to send it to.” He waved his hands, not taking a single breath between words. He surely did not want this to be the last time you saw each other, so he did his best.
Oh you were trembling alright. Trembling because you couldn’t hold yourself back much longer from swallowing this man whole right then and there. A small inch inside of you had actually hoped for Jungkook to ask for something in return, even if it was just a cup of coffee, you wouldn’t have even minded if he was an asshole because you would let him ruin you. There was just something about money that made you squirm, pleasantly. You know that money apparently doesn’t buy happiness, but it sure as hell bought something inside of you, and that face of his helped in swaying you even further.
“Alright.” You laughed.
“So, why Gucci? I personally prefer H&M.” He asked
“I can tell.” You gestured to his all-black ensemble with your eyes.
“I’m not going to take that as an insult because you look like you’re dressed for a runway show right now, but you’re sitting on some butt aching steps.”
“Well thank you, I take pride in my outfits. And I don’t know, do you have something softer to sit on?”
“Depends.” He said. You raised your eyebrow, challenging him.
“On?” You persisted him, eager to hear the very obvious answer to his obnoxious yet somewhat endearing flirtatious remark.
He doesn’t answer you, instead choosing to rub his palms across his thighs, as if they were slick with sweat, looking at you then away with a teasing grin. You wanted to wipe it off his face.
The both of you spent the rest of the day chattering on about each other while he showed you his favorite hiding places on campus. He told you stories about his many extravagant trips with his just as extravagant family and friends because you asked him to. And you in turn told him about the numerous shenanigans you pulled at your previous part-time jobs, always ending up in trouble one way or another because you didn’t like the way the customer spoke at you.
“No way!” You exclaimed, your hand slapping his bicep.
“My thoughts exactly!” He laughed, his hand coming up to hold his ear.
“I didn’t actually think rich people were that stupid, wow.” You gleamed at him. “No offense to you.”
He clutched his chest to signify the cliche look of hurt. “I’m actually at the top of all my classes.”
“And I’m a porn star with a side hustle of being the queen of Australia.” You teased.
“Wouldn’t that just be the queen of England?”
“Which one?” You both burst out laughing, loud boisterous laughs that quickly turned into snorts and chortles, mixing into indecipherable sounds that could be used as background noise for a ritual.
Jungkook had ended up walking you all the way to the cafe that was next to your campus dorms, a gentleman.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, I hope?” He said,.
“You will.” You replied with a smile. Jungkook thought that your smile could make the brightest star in the universe cower in defeat.
Jungkook took a single step back, preparing to take his leave but unable to take his eyes off you until you were the one to turn and depart. And it was quick. A peck on the cheek and you were running. Fleeing the scene of the crime where your dignity was killed in action. And Jungkook stood suspended, his hand on his cheek, a smile on his lips, and he knew then, that there was no way he’d be able to stop thinking about you.
You laid in bed reminiscing about today's events. When Jungkook had turned out to be a total sweetheart you were caught completely off guard. You were thinking he would ask you for sex or something, some sort of fuck buddy relationship perhaps, and that in return he’d shower you in extravagant gifts. Perhaps he was just doing a good deed. Helping the needy. But he had invited you to come to his home. So this wasn’t the last time he wanted to see you, and this made you excited. You weren’t sure what to do next though, you didn’t have much experience in this...area. Never haven taken interest in anyone because they just never seemed to satisfy your plethora of expectations, and you never lowered your standards. Then you thought about the kiss, or peck, whatever that crime of passion was. You were able to catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s face before you booked it, gone behind a building, and what you saw was the sweet shock of fondness. He didn’t hate it, and you were zealous.
On the other end, Jungkook could barely contain himself, he’d be seeing you again tomorrow. Don’t even get him started with the kiss, he had nearly grabbed you and given you a proper one, but you were gone too quickly. Even if you didn’t run, he would’ve still kept to himself, not wanting to push you into anything you didn’t want, allowing you to show him what you were comfortable with.
Friday evening came quickly. And as you approached Jungkook’s home, a literal mansion that cost you thirty bucks in an uber to get to, you thought about your plan. In all honestly, you didn’t have one even though you had ample time to think of one on your ride here, you came up blank. Because of your awfully picky nature in men, you had little to no experience, and right now you were coming up empty and decided to opt for plan B: let the lady make the decisions! By lady you meant your punani. If she wanted to go wild with this heavenly looking man then so be it. Even though you were most likely not going to be getting into bed with him tonight and entrancing him with your magical pussy, you still wore your favorite pieces of lingerie– the best that your broke college student money could buy. And so you put on your fake-it-till-you-make-it confidence and sashayed over to his three-meter tall doors. You rang the doorbell.
Within a minute you were met with his sweet smile. The smile you didn’t know you missed. And your eyes were naturally pulled towards it. And now your eyes were on his lips, and you watched as he licked them, and now you wanted to lick them. You were like a child, eyeing candy. You let your eyes drop lower, today he was wearing a tighter shirt, the type that was loose towards the abdomen but was tight at his arms because his arms were powerful– he was stacked. That was the men’s equivalence of a whore shirt. He was being a whore. You noticed the tattoo sleeve on his right arm, and you knew this man was actually perfect. He had no missing toe.
And Jungkook watched you. He knew you were checking him out because he was checking you out too. The way you bit your lip when you saw him lick his. His eyes naturally fell to your exposed legs, and were you carrying a pretty set.
“Hi, I’m glad you came.” He said.
“Me too.” The tension between you two strangling any other words that could be spoken, instead letting each other’s eyes battle to the death.
Jungkook stepped aside to let you in. You marveled at the interior of his home. Overwhelmed by how much it must have all cost. “Holy shit.” You felt a hand on the small of your back.
“Your items are in my room, I can have them packed up for you if you want?” Jungkook said, bringing you back to your senses.
But you didn’t, you wanted to spend as much time with him as you could because if you were being honest, you wanted to get to know him (too). You wanted to understand his motives, why he did it, and why he approached you.
“No, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to try them on first.” You gently touched his arm, the one that was on your back, the one laced in beautiful works of art. There was a certain awkwardness in the air now.
So with that, Jungkook led you up to his room, up the huge marble spiral stairs, down the hallway, and at the very end, the third door to your right, was his little cove. It definitely was not little. His tremendous cove. He had a king-sized bed at the very end of his room, and there was probably enough room for twenty more of those. And by his bed was the entrance to his closet, next to the closet entrance were three clothing racks filled with clothes, and beside those were a couple of purses and bags and smaller boxes. And he had beautiful huge windows on the west wall, opposite from the door you entered through. The windows basically took up the entirety of the wall, and your thoughts ran wild.
“I never got to ask but, why?” You looked at him. He was already looking at you. And you think you caught him. His head was slightly tilted and his eyes were on yours, and you saw a faint smirk, and a lip bite, and you think that for a second you were hallucinating because as quickly as you saw it, it just as quickly disappeared.
“Why did I buy you those things?” He pointed his chin to the clothes in the corner of the room. And you forgot how beautifully sculpted Jungkook was, his side profile a perfect silhouette.
“Yes.” You whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear, so he came closer.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you.” He was a head away from bumping into yours, and his eyes were pacing back and forth between yours and your lips, which were now pinker from the blood rushing towards them. But you whispered again because you wanted him even closer, “Yes.” But he didn’t move, sadly.
“You wanted to waste some jerk’s money, so I offered mine.” It was then that he stepped closer, and you could feel his breath on your skin. “I don’t think I’m much of a jerk though, sorry if you were looking for that too.” He added in a lower tone, one you had to pay attention to in order to catch every vibration. Your breathing became ragged, shaky and you weren’t sure if he was doing this on purpose.
“I wasn’t, I don’t really like jerks actually.” You moved your arm, gently placing it on his chest. Jungkook took it as a warning, do not wander further than my palm. He wasn’t sure why, but he surely didn’t want to mistake it for an invitation.
“Where can I try them on?” You smiled.
“There’s a walking closet right next to the racks, feel free to use it.” He took a step back.
“Thank you.”
“Or you could just use my room.” Jungkook froze, he wasn’t sure if he had actually said that out loud. It was just a passing thought in his head, and now he was mortified. He searched your eyes fervently for a reaction.
“Thank you for the offer, Jungkook, I’ll keep that in mind.” You took it as another one of Jungkook’s obnoxious jokes, like eighty percent of your conversations with Jungkook usually entailed. But silently, you wished he wasn’t joking.
Jungkook, however, felt his soul rise from his body and go far, far away. The way his name rolled off your tongue like a sweet melody, he would do anything to hear that again. He hadn’t even noticed any of the other words you said like they were all blurred except for his name, and it drove him crazy. You left him standing there, like a frozen popsicle. But your hand burned, it pulsated, from being on his chest, from feeling him flex under your palm, and it was exhilarating. You wanted to feel him again, but next time without a piece of clothing blocking the sensation.
Jungkook wasn’t used to bringing women home, the last time a girl was in his room was before his sixth grade dance, and it was only because she was amongst the rest of his little friend group. They were all going to the dance together, and Jungkook had told them he had snacks in his room, so they all rushed up to get some before leaving. Pathetic surely, for someone his age. But he never cared enough to go out of his way to find someone to share the majority of his time with, he never thought he needed to. He was always given everything he wanted or needed from birth, and until four weeks ago he didn’t realize that he did in fact want one more thing. Or perhaps he needed it? Love at first sight, what an idiotic concept.
For someone like Jungkook, it wasn’t uncommon to get married the moment he graduated, to another crazy rich person. In these circumstances, you marry someone you could tolerate, someone easy on the eyes too, and you just hope to see that person as little as possible. So you both have affairs, multiple, and it’s no secret, everyone knows, even friends, and family, they all know. It always made Jungkook’s stomach churn, at the mere thought of it all, the lack of integrity. He had met plenty of good-looking, rich, women, but they never seemed to stimulate him mentally. It was always a ‘Jungkook you’re so funny!’ and a firm grip of his thigh, when all he had said was that he didn’t care where they’d go eat, they could just watch Netflix instead. And he’d look at them, detached, then hail that he wasn’t feeling too well, and retire to his room. And the girls would always leave. They’d freshen up their lipstick as if they had another scheduled date before stepping out the door.
Jungkook was surely the black sheep of his family, his entire environment, and not in a bad way. He just didn’t behave like the others, he didn’t share their same mentality. Jungkook preferred to meditate than to go clubbing, he preferred to go to a local cafe than on a jet to Singapore for the weekend. Yes, he had seen and done his fair share of rich people things, but he was still always grateful for the plate of food that his personal chef would place in front of him, bowing to show his gratitude. Obviously, the staff in Jungkook’s home were all incredibly fond of him because of that, knowing this little prince from birth, watching him grow into a genuine and respectful young man.
Truthfully, Jungkook wasn’t really aware of the effect he had on people. He was a charmer, but he was kind too. So everything he ever said, whether it be a compliment, or a random remark on the nice weather, he meant it all one hundred percent. But Jungkook also didn’t say much, which is why he was never able to be properly understood by anyone but his family, staff, and very close friends, and maybe now even you. With you, Jungkook didn’t even feel the need to sat much, the glances you shared seem to fill in forty percent of your conversations. A single glance could mean you two would start barking like rabid dogs, or it could mean a ‘shut the fuck up you can’t be serious’, or even a ‘I will actually punch a hole in your smug little face right now.’
When you walked out of his closet with the first full outfit that fit, he was laying on his bed, hands behind his head and he jumped up at the sound of your entrance. You posed ridiculously for him and giggled. You were happy, and that was all he wanted. He winked, then whistled, eyeing you. You knew he was joking but you couldn’t help but blush, this was his effect, this was what he did to you. And now you really wanted to kiss him, and he really wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t want you to think that was what he did all this for because it wasn’t. He didn’t want you to think that was all he had wanted.
You both quickly fell into conversation, loudly speaking to each other through the thick doors of the closet. Every now and then you’d poke your half-dressed head through the doors to say something or make sure you heard Jungkook correctly, a ‘What?’ and ‘Harhar very funny’ spoken every now and then. Jungkook now stood by the doors with his back against the wall and face towards the ceiling. And you’d think you were going crazy with the way he would look at you, like he had never seen something so divine. He’d never say anything, no ‘You look beautiful’ or even a ‘Wow’, none, he would just stare in awe with his mouth slightly ajar. And you would chuckle, every time. The both of you didn’t seem to be too good with words, never able to quite find any to properly use in describing your feelings.
So when you finally asked him, “How do I look?” he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer, and said with the most serious look on his face, “Like the queen of Australia.” And you stared at each other, in disbelief, both of your eyes racing each other to look from one to the other, both your lips perked and quivering with the familiar wave of a roar that was surely soon to burst through the both of you. Like an explosion, the glee was released. You grabbed his shoulders to keep you balanced as you threw your head backward, your upper body following. And Jungkook was able to open his eyes slightly, through the tears he ogled at your neck, then at your face that shared an image of pure joy. He admired the way your lips parted way for your teeth, and the scrunches on your nose, the smile lines that led from the edge of your nose to the edge of your lips.
“You’re funny.” You said, dazed out of your mind and knocking on his chest, the dopamine coursing through your brain surely mixed with some oxytocin. And it was the same for Jungkook. You thought about the way his hands felt on your waist, leaving a ghostish touch, gentle and comforting.
“Wouldn’t it be even funnier if I kissed you right now?” His eyes were staring at yours with rapt attention. And you answered with an energetic nod, like you had been waiting for this question for years.
It was quick, his lips were on yours, soft, gentle. They glided against yours almost too perfectly like they belonged to you. Jungkook couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your mouth on his, so he was kissing you deeper, more fervently, like he didn’t even need to breathe. Your breaths fanned each other, exasperated sighs as you both inhaled every five seconds for air because you refused to separate. Jungkook felt a warmth blossom within him, the feeling of your arms wrapping around his head to pull him in closer. The two of you began clumsily stumbling towards his bed, the back of Jungkook’s knees hitting the edge first and he fell backward, you on top of him. Now you were peering at him from above, hair framing your face like a painting, and Jungkook adored the way you looked at him with your half lidded eyes through your long eyelashes. He was in paradise. No other paradise he had ever been in, no island vacation or shopping spree in Singapore could compare to the paradise he was in right now, with you. And he knew then that he wanted to share his world with you, and he could only hope and wish that you share yours with him too.
Jungkook caressed your cheek, gentle swipes across your cheekbones with his thumb. His eyes deeply focused on memorizing your every pore. If he told you he was counting your scars you would probably slap him out of embarrassment. He flipped you over, took off his shirt, and kissed you once more. This time it was quick, rushed, like he couldn’t get enough of you before the time was up.
“Can I?” He tugged at the hem of your top. And you nodded, hesitantly, your bottom lip between your teeth. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.” He reassured you, as if reading your mind, following his statement with a soft kiss on your forehead. “So tell me, what do you want?” He trailed his thumb across your bottom lip, slipping it into your mouth, entranced by the way you took him in.
“Can I just have you?” You looked up at him, from eyeing his topless body. That alone had you pressing your thighs together. Your hands all over him, as if your eyes were closed and you were trying to picture him in your mind through your touch. Then you took his left hand with yours, and your right hand trailed down to grab his crotch, and you moved his hand down to yours. “But I don’t want these two to meet yet.” You snickered. Jungkook found you so amusing, his lips perking into an endearing grin. “That won’t be a problem, princess.” Your tummy did a little flip at his pet name, the way he purred it to you making you go a little crazy.
The rest of the night was spent touching and kissing and touching and kissing. And when Jungkook asked if he could ‘massage you down there’ you took his hand once more and slipped it into your panties. And when you were both in your underwear, Jungkook couldn’t stop drooling over you, the black lacy lingerie that you had worn just for him, hugging every one of your curves as if they were specially handcrafted for you. He proceeded to bite the hem of your panties, tugging them off gently while stopping to lick your thigh every now and then. Jungkook truly did not care that he wouldn’t be having sex with you. He loved this just as much. He loved the way your breath hitched when he slipped his fingers inside you, and the way your nails dug into his arm and his back pulling him closer and closer until you were glued together. Your lips never parting even through muffled moans. You touched him too, you felt the way he twitched in your palm, and it made you giddy when he would shiver in pleasure, biting your lip and curling your toes from excitement. And Jungkook would mutter your name beside your ear anytime you teased him a bit too much, "Y/N, baby, you're driving me crazy." Accompanied by his vulnerable whines and gasps. You guided each other, until you both reached the finish line. And you did this until it was late into the night. Reaching the finish line a number of times, in a number of different ways.
You laid in each other’s embrace, whispering sweet nothings to each other through flirtatious kisses. The kind of fondness between you resembled that of hopeless romantics. And that was exactly what the two of you were. Jungkook’s hand caressing your arm, and you outlining his tattoos with your finger.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” You replied with a hearty laugh.
Jungkook reached over to his bedside to grab his phone. Returning to you he asked, “What do you want to eat, pretty?”
“Whatever you have to offer, handsome.” Your flirting was disgusting, but you both didn’t care.
Jungkook then called his chef, even though it was like 1am in the morning. “I am so sorry for waking you up Mister Young, but I would really appreciate it if you could cook up a meal for two, please.” Your heart instantly melted at the sweetness that Jungkook displayed, truly a kind-hearted gentleman. Mister Young was not at all bothered by Jungkook’s request, in fact, he was overly excited for young sir, this being the first time he had ever requested a meal for two at 1 am in the morning. A sense of pride filled him, happy for the young prince who had possibly found someone to be happy with, finally.
Jungkook turned to you, a grin on his face, “You know, I barely know you.” He said.
“Why lie?” You replied.
You were right. Jungkook did actually know you. He had a private investigator do a background check on you this morning. In Jungkook’s world, it was just out of precaution. There’s always a new story that finds its way to him about someone in their circle being another victim of fraud. He just wanted to make sure that the woman he felt himself falling for, was real.
“How did you know?” Jungkook’s mouth slightly agape.
“You just told me.” You grinned. And Jungkook loved the way you made him feel like a fool. You were joking at first of course, but when Jungkook ironically confessed you put two and two together. Figuring that a person of his stature would surely have the means to know what the name of your pet hamster from when you were seven was. You didn’t really care since you had already told him much of it yourself, all he did was cross-check with the records available to him. But now he owed you, big time.
“You owe me now.” You said.
“Like I said, anything you want, whenever you want.”
Over his shoulder, your eyes noticed something that you were inspecting earlier.
“How about... for next time... or whenever I um, come around to it...” You paused to build up your courage while Jungkook turned to what your eyes were peering at. “We do it against those.” You were both now glancing at Jungkook’s window-filled wall.
“Baby...” He turned to you, eyes wide like he was on cocaine, shifting beneath the sheets before slithering nearer to you like an injured puppy placing his face in the crook of your neck. “You’re so sexy.” He whined into your neck, drawing out the ‘y’ at the end.
He looked up at you, his big doe eyes in action, "What are you doing next week?" A cunning smirk sneaking onto his face.
"Well, I'm scheduled at work for like twenty hours, then I have classes to attend..." You mindlessly listed off the things you were going to do next week as if you weren't speaking to Jeon Jungkook, as if he was just a random commoner–like yourself–looking to ask you out on a simple dinner date.
"Come to Fiji with me?"
Wow, you were not expecting that, and it clearly showed on your face. However, it was not at all like you to turn down this kind of offer just to slave around at a job you despised. Your classes you could easily catch up on. Your mind was made up, but Jungkook didn't know that, so you wanted to tease him a bit.
"I don't know." You exhaled as if torn between the 'very difficult' decision.
"Please." Jungkook whined, lengthening the vowels. "I have to take you on a date. Our first official date." He coaxed.
"And us spending the whole day together yesterday wasn't a date to you?" You asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I said o-ffi-cial." He carefully pronounced each sound in the word 'official' to make it clearer.
"And you can’t just take me out to dinner?" You provoked. Jungkook pouted at you, "That’s boring, I’m not a boring guy." And you knew this already, from some of his earlier ministrations.
"Did someone say skinny dipping?" You yelled, frantically searching the room for an imaginary person. Jungkook’s eyes lit up. "I'm fucking with you, of course I'll go." You finally gave in, unable to compete against his pout.
Jungkook didn't even give you time to pack anything, telling you he'd buy you whatever you needed later. You had both ended up sleeping well into Saturday afternoon in a tangled mess on his bed: your leg was thrown over him, his hand instinctively on your ass all night, or he'd be spooning you and have his hand down the boxers he let you borrow. One way or the other, he made sure those butterflies didn't leave your stomach from his touches. Later in the evening, you were both driven to the airport to board Jungkook's own private jet. He told you how every member in his family had their own designated plane all because of an incident where his older brother had taken the plane to see his girlfriend in Amsterdam when his dad had a meeting to attend in Malaysia.
"It was a huge thing." He said. "My dad was like fuming, you could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears, he was yelling into the phone at my brother like 'You better bring that plane back this instant or else I'm selling your Rolls-Royce!' it was hilarious." You laughed in both amusement and agony, this was really some rich people shit that you could not wrap your head around.
"It was my brother's favorite one too." Jungkook snorted. You connected the dots that the car was indeed sold.
"That's insane..." You looked down at your entangled hands. "Our lives are really different, Jungkook." Your throat started to burn from realization, you were in the car on your way to another fucking country with someone you had just met a day ago. The adrenaline and desire overwhelming the practical part of your brain that would've probably been screaming 'Don't! Don't' at every decision you ended up making to spend more and more time with Jungkook. You thought about the home you had grown up in, the two-bedroom home that was just enough for you and your parents. You had nothing to offer Jungkook, and here he was spending all this cash on a stranger. You wondered if he did this with every pretty girl, then dropped them a week later once he got bored. Probably shouldn’t have let miss lady take charge yesterday.
Jungkook squeezed your hand. You looked back at him. "That doesn't matter, I hope you know that." The remaining ten minutes of the ride was spent in relative silence, you battling in your thoughts, and Jungkook humming to himself while looking out the window, turning to check on you every minute or so. He didn't need a reply from you. He would've understood if you made the decision not to go right in front of the jet's stairs. And he'd take you home, without question.
But you didn't. You got on that plane, fell asleep an hour into the flight, and woke up to Jungkook gently telling you that you were about to land. You looked out the window, "Doesn't look like Fiji, did you kidnap me to sell me off?"
"Unfortunately not, you'd make me so much money though," he pouts through his teasing "we're in Sydney, you need things so I figured we'd make a stop..." He leaned over you, his hands on top of the baggage compartment while he looked out your window. You grabbed his waist and stuffed your head up his shirt, yup this was the best decision you've made so far.
"You smell nice, kinda wanna take a bite." You said, actually taking a bite of his sturdy abs.
"What do I taste like?" He asked.
"Like burnt chicken nuggets." You licked.
"Alright, that's enough, let's get going." He pulled you out from under his shirt and enveloped you in a rather dirty kiss. He took you by your hand and guided you off the plane and into the black range rover waiting for you both.
“I don’t need much, Jungkook.” You said, causing Jungkook to stare at you with wide eyes. This was very unlike you. “Well half of the time I’m gonna be in the water, and the other half I’ll probably be...” you leaned over to whisper the rest in his ear “naked.” His grip on your thigh tightened.
“Plus I have nowhere to keep all this stuff in my tiny dorm room closet.” You whined, placing your head on his shoulder. You didn’t even want to think about the amount of time that packing would take.
He hummed as if deep in thought, “Well you’re lucky, I just so happen to have an extra closet you can use.”
You groaned, you were a bit terrified at how things were moving. Yes, Jungkook was a rare gem, a one in a million type of guy but you feared that he didn’t see you the same way. And maybe he really wasn’t, there’s only so much you can learn about a person in 48 hours. Though, character may be hard to fake. Why worry though? This was a once in a lifetime experience that not many people were lucky enough to get, after all, this was what you were working towards anyway. You were absolutely going to enjoy yourself.
“Fine, but that means I have to come over anytime I want something from that closet.”
“Very true, I’m sure we can work something out.”
It wasn’t long before you both arrived at the very posh boutique lined shopping centre. You weren’t sure why you had expected to go to the general mall with stores such as Topshop or Zara. Instead, you were staring down price tags that could pay six months worth of rent. “Stop looking at those.” Jungkook snatched the price tag out of your hand. “Just choose what you like, I’ll wait for you in the changing room, pretty.” The changing room which was quite literally a room with a whole sofa that Jungkook laid on. So when you came in with a stack of clothes in your arms, a huge toothy grin on your face, and the store clerk behind you also with a stack of clothes in her arms, Jungkook smiled. You began trying on the clothes, all made for warm weather, you just wanted to make sure that they didn’t look stupid on you. Sometimes some pieces would look gorgeous on the hanger, but the moment it was on a body it became an awkward looking mess. Jungkook would still say that you made it look good but you wouldn’t care, your own confidence in the piece being more important than whether or not it actually looked good. Jungkook was enjoying this just as much as you were, having front row seats to see your panties slightly slip off whenever you removed some shorts or skirts that were tight fitting. His favorite part though was the swimsuit try on, yup, and you had a lot of those. Every now and then he’d get up just to grab you, spin you around, and hold you, like the big softie he was.
You both spent around two hours shopping. Jungkook bought two pairs of swimsuits for himself, the remaining six bags were yours. And you were back on the plane for a quick-not-so-quick four and a half hour ride to Fiji islands, final destination being Turtle Island.
It was mid-day by the time you arrived at the five star private resort that Jungkook had booked for you two, well his travel agent, but that wasn’t the point–he still paid. It was a beautiful little stilt building on water, there was even a pool and jacuzzi on the patio overlooking the crystal clear blue water. You oohed and aahed at the colorful fish and turtles! that swam below. Then there were footsteps coming up behind you, fast, and before you could even turn there was a huge splash in the water you were watching. A wet blonde head of hair looking up at you from the water. “You coming or not!?” Jungkook yelled over to you. Luckily, you already had your swimsuits on under your clothes, a little trick that your mom and you would do every time she’d take you to the beach or to the water park when you were younger. So you stripped your clothes off and jumped in after him. And when you were floating beside him he brought his hand up out from the water, two goggles hanging from it. You squealed a bit from excitement, snatching one, pouring the salty water out from inside, wiping the goggles and putting it on. Then you were both under, diving then coming up for air then back down to swim after a turtle.
The rest of the day went by quickly, exhausted by the time the sun set. You were in the jacuzzi eating a bunch of fruit that the resort staff had delivered earlier. Eyes closed and head relaxed on the cushioned headrest, with your arms outstretched on the jacuzzi edge. Jungkook was somewhere inside, you assumed he was taking a shower. That was not the case though, apparently he was straddling you now, his thick arms wrapped behind your head, his fat ass on your thighs. You opened your eyes “cute,” you giggled, moving your hands up his sides while inspecting his ravishing body.
“Did you know that sea turtles eat jellyfish? It’s like their favorite snack. I wonder if it’s like jello.” Jungkook said. You hummed, too busy with your hands.
“They can also hold their breath underwater for like five hours.” He added on. Now he was smirking, but you weren’t sure why.
“That’s very interesting, Jungkook, is there a reason you’re telling me this?”
“Not really.” He started sliding off you, into the water. Your eyes followed him down until everything was submerged except for his head.
“May I?” He asked.
“May you what?”
He stuck his tongue out, then flailed his head in the water and you were genuinely embarrassed by him even though it was just the two of you. But you knew what he meant: the turtle facts now made a bit more sense to you. He pinched your thigh and you swatted him. Jungkook’s devious little plan was ruined because you were now wrestling in the jacuzzi. HIs head tucked under your armpit, then you were tucked under his armpit, then multiple counts of attempted homicide.
Though, eventually, somehow your swimsuits had managed to fly off in various directions and somehow you were now all over each other, tongues in action and lips glued together. Jungkook’s hands ran up and down your spine then went to fondle your ass that he would occasionally squeeze. You were quick to let him into your mouth, his tongue having begged at your lips. You naturally began to grind against his muscular thighs, and he would flex them to create some sort of aid in this frictionless water. Your hand inched down his chest, his abs, then you traced his v-line till you reached what you were going for. You fondled his dick that was now getting pressed between your torso and his, running your thumb against his tip. “Shit, baby, do you like doing that? Teasing me?” Jungkook groaned into your ear. You hummed in agreement. Your lips smacking against each other, the sound of hot breath and waves mixing together. Jungkook’s dick being so close to your entrance but not inside you made you feel empty, and you could feel his outline against you, not small in the slightest. “Jungkook, I want you.” The words barely escaping with sound as you mouthed them into the kiss before he started nipping at your neck, taking a bite and leaving a fresh hickey. “Mhm, can you say that again for me, baby?” You loved Jungkook’s way of flirting, he would call you ‘pretty’ whenever you were in public and keep ‘baby’ for the bedroom. “I want you so deep inside me that I can’t see you right in front of me.” You pulled away to speak properly.
Jungkook must have seen the devil because he yanked you up, threw you over his shoulder and removed you both from the jacuzzi. You were now two naked bodies on display for all the turtles and fishes to see, though they seemed to be too preoccupied to watch Jungkook ruin you shortly. He slapped your ass and ran his fingers over your mound as he carried you to the canopy bed that sat outside on the patio. “You know, when you say things like that you make me go a little crazy.” He said in a deep, groany voice. And he threw you onto the bed, barely giving you any time to adjust before he was spreading your legs and looking at you hungrily.
“You’re too pretty for your own good,” he drew his fingers along your entrance, “I wonder how many times I can make you cum with my mouth alone.” You nearly cried as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, his thumb tracing little circles on your bud. It wasn’t long before he was shoving one finger in, then two, then three, going in and out and in and out, his tongue lapping you up. You grinded against him, your fingers in his wet hair. Then he was moving up your body, licking the droplets of water along the line he drew. He circled your nipple while he rubbed the tip of his shaft against your entrance. Your hands were above your head, giving him an all access pass to every inch of your body. Then he was showering you with kisses again, your lips connecting once more like magnets. “I can’t believe I’m about to fuck the queen of Australia.” He whispered into your ear. You let out a breathless laugh, your hands moving to wrap around his neck. “That would make you my king, or rather perhaps my concubine?” You moaned as Jungkook grinded against you, slow lustful grinds. “Sounds like fun either way, but you’ll always be my princess.” And you gave out a loud moan from Jungkook finally shoving his dick inside you.
“What if I said I’d never had a concubine before?” You laughed breathlessly, afraid that Jungkook might not catch your drift. Though when he paused from fucking you into the sheets to look at you through wide eyes, you can confidently assume he did.
“Are you?’ He asked, unable to say much else. And you nodded hesitantly in reply.
“Then I guess we’re both just going off instinct here, aren’t we?” He smiled, returning to kiss you, devotion laced with his kiss. The fact that Jungkook was a virgin, too, made you lightheaded, you were his first and likewise. To you, this meant something more than just a quick fiji trip with a pretty girl.
Jungkook wouldn’t have even guessed that he’d be your first, thinking that you didn’t want to fuck him on your kinda-not-really second date was because you just didn’t fuck so early. He didn’t really understand why, or how, but knowing that he was your first too made him feel connected to you even more, like you were truly both meant to stumble into each other. He was so fucking glad that he asked you that stupid question, or else you wouldn’t be here right now, with him. And God, the way your lips felt against his, he could go crazy just from a brush alone. He held you like you were fragile, made from glass, but with every thrust he wanted to go deeper, further into you, and no he wasn’t doing that just to hear your heavenly moans.
Unhurried, lazy but deep thrusts. Because he’s not rushing anywhere nor are you. And your fingers are entangled in his, beside your head, and they’re warm, moist even, soft, and his thumb drags along the back of your hand, calming you, sweet little ministrations– his specialty. And his lips are on your ear, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder, and he’s tasting you, like a hungry gentleman. You’re on a cloud, with nothing else but yourself and him around you. And you can feel it all, everything, everywhere, the sweet tingles that run up from your mound through your stomach, up to your brain and it’s intoxicating, like narcotics, you can’t get enough. But it’s happening simultaneously with the pumps from your heart, and the feelings are mixing, like a sick little concoction waiting to burst out of every opening. Now Jungkook’s fingers are running down your shining body, like paint brushes, he’s painting you then erasing you with his lips, then painting you again, and he does this many, many times, and each time is like the first. You can feel him, so intimately, filling you slowly, his warm, slick body on top of yours, his tough chest and abdomen sliding on yours carefully, gently, almost like he doesn’t want to scrape you with his piercing muscles that he had so diligently built. His golden chain tickles your face, and you smile, biting it, and twisting your head to the side to pull him closer, and Jungkook answers with a chaste kiss, no hesitation.
He pulled out all the way till only his tip was past your entrance, “I’m happy to be your first concubine, my princess,” and as he spoke those words he thrusted into you, a slow, meticulous thrust, guiding you to your high. “I’ll always be your princess.” You repeated to him the same words he had spoken to you, a tear running down your cheek as you felt an unfamiliar sensation bubbling within you.
And you know, you know now that you love him. You love him a bit too much. But it’s impossible to describe, there aren’t enough letters, not enough words, to describe the way your stomach flips whenever he smiles at you– that smile, the smile... his smile. Maybe not enough words in this language alone, maybe there are more in French, there should be more that you can use? So you think, but you only know so much. Amour sans fin. Your love for him, endless, until the very last star burns out. But still, you’re trying to find the words, struggling to put together the letters while sharing the same breaths with him. You open your eyes, and you’re met with his, penetrating you, as if he’s reading your heart’s wishes, longings, needs. And he says it before you can.
“I love you.” And you know, you understand, that it’s all you need. There’s nothing more he can say, to explain to you how deep his feeling goes, there aren’t enough words, or songs, or poems. So you accept it because you too know nothing of what else he could say, to express his longing for you. The longing for something that is already there, but he still wants to be with you, constantly, he wants you there, always.
Jungkook knew that you were the one, his search coming to a full stop with you snug between his arms. He continued to fuck you while paying attention to every inch of your skin, and he soon learned all your sweet spots. The spot right below your ear, which he would lick, and kiss, and bite, and you in turn would cry his name. The spot on your side, on your waist, right below your ribs, he would run his fingers across it, his tongue, and you'd shiver. And your lips of course, when he'd bite your bottom lip, you always smiled into the kiss without fail, and if your hands weren't already holding his face then you would bring them up to hold him.
Even though you were all over each other, tossing and turning, fucking and crying. Fucking from the side, fucking with your leg swung over his shoulder, fucking with both legs over his shoulder, fucking with your face stuffed into a pillow, you still couldn't get enough of each other. This seemed to be the case anytime you two were together though, the physical touch between you two being never ending. Whenever this becomes official, the PDA will be disgusting. So when you've both reached your highs, multiple times, and the fogginess has left your mind, you're finally breathing out an "I love you," that gets lost among the waves, but does not go unheard.
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