synopsis: you’re a successful entrepreneur in the beauty industry and after your assistant/best friend sees the spread in Korea GQ magazine of a popular k-pop artist, she gets him on the first flight to California to start a sponsorship deal, and it was none other than the world-renowned fuckboy you met at a product launch party for Gucci two years ago.
pairing: jimin x female reader x jungkook
rating: mature (18+)
genre: enemies to lovers, love triangle, angst, fluff, smut
warnings/content: swearing, employer/client relationship, past situationship, fuckboy!jimin, celebrity!jimin, love triangle, tattoo artist!jungkook, jin is reader’s lawyer best friend
explicit content: brief mentions of sex (varies between chapters)
disclaimer: this is entirely a work of fiction, and in no way does it reflect thoughts or acts of bts in the real world (:
♡ note: finally!! sorry it took me so long to release this. it’s been a long 4 months :’) also, thank you to everyone who has read, liked, and reblogged my writing and thank you so much for the comments as well, it means a lot to me :’)
there is quite a bit of angst in this chapter, enjoy lovelies! ♡
Previous
This has to be a fucking joke, you said to yourself as you stare at the messages on your phone, jaw agape in shock and your heart dropping down to your stomach.
Jungkook had already left before you woke up this morning, leaving a small, neatly folded note on your nightstand that contained his messy handwriting, telling you that he had fun and he couldn’t wait to see you again.
It was sweet, a warm and fuzzy feeling igniting in your tummy at the thoughtful gesture.
But every ounce of warmth you felt was replaced by your breath hitching and your blood running cold as soon as you opened Naiya’s messages.
You felt queasy, like the world was rocking underneath you and your body couldn’t catch up, the aftermath bubbling and waiting to spill after you’d tried so hard to keep it at bay.
Your ghost was coming back to haunt you, threatening to suck all the air out of your lungs and leave you to fight for your sanity.
Park Jimin. The stunning musician, model, dancer and actor; a jack of all trades, and a master of many. The man who is a muse in all art forms. He’s confident and assertive, reeling you in with a sickeningly-sweet smile and endless charm.
Seeing his name was like a punch to your gut, and the thought of him entering your safe space, your livelihood that you worked so hard for, was the icing on a melancholy, 2 year old cake that you hadn’t dared to touch in fear of reopening a wound.
Park Jimin was your ghost, pervasively seeping into every part of you and you weren’t so sure you could soothe the ache this time.
And to make things worse, your friends didn’t know who he was to you, hearing about your heartbreak in pieces through text messages and cryptic ‘I should’ve known better’s’. They never knew the mysterious guy who broke you, the one who grabbed hold of your heart before you’d even noticed, and crushed it with his own bare hands.
You fought it in silence and shame, spending days holed up in your apartment, detached and in denial.
You should’ve never fell for him.
And oh, how stupid you were to think that you could escape him forever.
Pairs of eyes followed you in fear as you stormed into the office building around 4pm, a scowl etched onto your features and breath caught in your throat. No one dared to get in your way, the staff almost holding their heads down as to not encounter your wrath.
The poor intern was even too scared to greet you and ask if you wanted any coffee, something she happily did every time she saw you.
Your heels met the ground with intimidating clicks as you swiftly and angrily made your way to the board room, only pausing your stride to wait for and enter or exit the elevator.
Once you made it to the top floor, the board room was straight ahead with doors of crystalline glass. Jin sat in a chair facing away from you while Naiya met your eyes on the other side of the door, and she gulped. You were seething.
You pushed open the door, and Naiya instinctively took a few steps back.
“Explain. Now.” You spat.
Jin swiveled in his chair to face you and gave you an inquisitive yet disbelieving look. “What crawled up your ass?”
Your eyes narrowed into slits, “‘What crawled up my ass,’ Jin?” You scoffed. “Park fucking Jimin, that’s what. Are you guys serious?”
Naiya chimed in, “Wait, but what’s wrong? What do you have against Jimin?”
Jin rolled his eyes at you, “Can you not PMS right now, please?”
“Fuck you, Jin,” Both of your friends went wide-eyed, “You have no idea what kind of position this puts me in.”
“Well, maybe if you actually told us what’s going on and why you don’t like him, we can get to the bottom of it so that everything goes smoothly,” Naiya was trying to be the peacemaker.
You chuckled dryly. “Hell no, there’s no way this deal is happening. Find someone else,” You began to turn on your heel, making an attempt to exit the room in frustration.
“I hate to break it to you, but that’s not possible anymore,” Naiya said with a frown.
You spun on your heels, “Excuse me?”
“There’s no way we’d find someone in time to replace him, not if we want to be on time with the launch, and you know how important that is. A-And, he’s is already in California,”
You laughed humorlessly, a look of disbelief adorning your features.
“He should be here any minute now,” Jin coughed awkwardly.
“You can’t convince me to work with Park Jimin. I won’t. We’ll figure something else out, no matter what it is.”
“Now, now,” You turned around upon hearing the door open, a slender, feminine hand placed on the hardware as your receptionist lead the way for the subject of the conversation, the one who turned heads and lit up a room. “Is that any way to greet your client?”
There he stood in all his glory, sleek suit and lavish shades on display, accompanied by a beaming, flirtatious smile.
“Jimin,” you greeted him with gritted teeth, forcing an upward turn of your lips.
“Long time, no see, doll.”
Clearing your throat, you looked Jimin directly in his eyes, an irritated glint accompanying your gaze. “Everyone, can you please give Mr. Park and I the room for a bit?”
You eyed his female counterpart—or, assistant, as he’d probably say—as she stood slightly behind him, clad in a blouse and pencil skirt, with red bottom heels that you’re sure Jimin paid for. She carried herself with poise, and she held her head slightly down, as if she questioned whether she was worth being chosen to come to this meeting. You had been like her once. Young, beautiful and easily manipulated, eager to people-please and have others be proud of the work that you did, longing to be appreciated and cared for by a handsome man who would love you.
She was too good for him. Too delicate.
You were like her once, but you told yourself that you would never be like that again.
She spoke up in a voice that was much too tender for the likes of him, “That won’t be needed, Miss. I am to accompany him during the meeting, as there is business invol–“
He waved her off before proceeding to unbutton his suit jacket, exuding an annoying aura of confidence that made you silently clench your teeth while he smirked. “It’s fine, Minji. She’s an old friend.”
She took a step back and held her head down as if she’d made a mistake, and your gaze softened upon witnessing her reaction.
“It’ll be quick, I promise,” you gave her a small smile, which she returned. “I will have my assistant lead you to our executive lounge so you can enjoy the amenities while Mr. Park and I catch up, and then we can speak about a potential partnership with you present, if that’s okay.”
She smiled at you, “Of course! Thank you Miss,” She waved before exiting along with Naiya and Jin, leaving just you and Jimin alone.
Suddenly the room became colder and the air heavier at the realization.
You went to sit on the opposite side of the table from where you were previously standing , aiming to place as much space between you and Jimin as possible.
“Sit.” You gestured to the chair across from you, making a point not to make eye contact.
“Someone’s a little bossy,” He said with a smug smile as he took his seat. “It suits you.”
You scoffed, clasping your hands together and resisting the urge to clench them out of irritation and anxiousness. “Cut the shit, Jimin. Why are you here?”
He raised a brow out of amusement and feigned offense. “I’m here for a contract.”
You narrowed your eyes, suspicion in your tone as you spoke. “See, I don’t think you need money that bad, Jimin. I’ve read the tabloids, seen the magazines. You’re successful and we haven’t spoken in years, so why not just keep the bridge burned?”
He smirked, “Someone’s been doing research on me, I see,”
Your glare was icy, your nonchalance being the cherry on top. “Trust me when I say that I wish I never heard of you at all.”
You didn’t see his minuscule flinch at your words, or how he actually used the excuse of loosening his tie to hide himself wiping away the clamminess of his hands.
The look in his eyes was different.
“Oh, poor thing, did I ruin sex for you with any other man? Is that why you hate me so much? I know it’s been some years, but I wouldn’t mind going again if it meant you’d take out the stick that’s far up your ass,” He fake-pitied you, taking out a piece of gum and popping it into his mouth.
You scoffed, mouth open wide in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Not in the slightest,” He winked. He took out another piece of gum and offered it to you, “Want one?”
“No, I don’t want your damn gum! Matter of fact, I don’t want anything from you. You can get the fuck out,” You stood up from your chair, making your way towards the door to escort him out.
He gently caught your arm before you got too far away, standing up himself and pulling you towards him.
The proximity between the two of you was close enough to feel his breath ghosting across your face.
Jimin’s voice was little above a whisper, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he spoke. “You can kick me out, but my business isn’t the one on the verge of collapse, doll. It may be a secret to everyone else, but I know you need this deal. I called myself doing you a favor, and you seem pretty ungrateful, hmm?”
Your breath hitched, as if the wind had been knocked out of you and you were struggling to come back down to earth. “I don’t need your charity,” you squeaked.
He provocatively tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a jolt of electricity you were fighting against because of the gesture.
“My charity, no, but the money you’ll get from my involvement, you do need that. Deny it all you want,” He said as he pulled away from you, flicking his suit jacket and smirking. “Your choice to drown or not.”
He walked away from you, heading towards the door to let himself out. He placed his hand on the hardware, fully ready to pull and rid himself of you if you declined his offer.
But to both your surprise, you gave in. Again.
“Wait,” You called out to him in a shaky, almost panicked voice, one that you hated to let anyone else hear. You felt too vulnerable, too fragile in this state, but if you wanted to be successful, sometimes you had to face things you didn’t like; even when said thing was the reason you questioned your self worth in the first place.
You turned around to face him, breath heavy and eyes downcast in shame that you needed him, needed the opportunity or everything you’d worked for could crash and burn in a matter of months.
You stood there frozen in place, fiddling with your thumbs and suddenly feeling powerless. He didn’t smile when he saw your unsteady hands. He didn't have an egotistical expression for once, and somehow that made you feel even worse. You didn’t want to be looked at with pity or seen as a failure, and that’s all that you radiated. And it was worse that Jimin could see it, too. “Will you stay?”
Jimin almost flinched at your small voice, something he didn’t experience often, and his gaze softened while directed at the ground. You were strong and he knew that, but your question threw him off, and upon seeing how what he said affected you, he questioned if he’d gone too far. He cleared his throat and his voice sounded strained,“ I’ll let Minji know to come back. I’ll stay.”
But he couldn’t look at you like this.
Not when it was because of him. Again.
“I believe that’s all we have to discuss; is that correct, Boss?” Naiya eyed you for approval, Jin having already gone over the contract with everyone in the room. All parties were in agreement of the $2million dollar arrangement for a contract of six months. It made sense, as much as you hated it—Jimin being onboard was bound to bring in tons of revenue and you’d be able to stay afloat, as expensive as your products were to make and maintain. He was doing you a favor and although you appreciated that your biggest problem was sorted out, you weren’t looking forward to the fact that there was almost certainly a catch. Why else would he come all this way, after leaving a bad taste in your mouth and not seeing you in years?
“That should be all,” You smiled, but it didn’t meet your eyes.
“Perfect!” Minji exclaimed, excited to be apart of the deal that occurred. She stood abruptly, eager to shake your hand and congratulate you and Jimin. “Congratulations and thank you for the opportunity,”
“Of course,” the upward turn of your lips was genuine this time, having been in the same position as her not that long ago.
Everyone stood and began to file out of the board room as the evening came to an end, but you noticed that Jimin was slower to wrap up the meeting. He dragged, as if he had more to say to you, as if he didn’t want to leave. And your heart couldn’t take that. Not again.
He buttoned his suit jacket before grabbing his folder filled with a copy of the contract and legal paperwork off of the table. He turned to see if everyone else left and you glanced at the doorway, seeing his assistant waiting patiently, as if adorning his features, eyes widening when she noticed he caught her staring.
He smirked but you knew it was an arrogant one, one that someone like her didn’t deserve. She deserved a heartfelt smile, a gentle gesture. You could tell she was sweet and by the way she lovingly took in his features, you knew there were feelings there. It almost didn’t hurt—you wanted to root for her. You wanted to coach him on how to finally treat someone right, show him that it was the same way that he should’ve treated you. But that time was gone now and while you recognized she harbored feelings, a pang of jealousy hit the pit of your stomach, twisting it in an uncomfortable knot. So, you stared — it was a distracted, almost blank gaze, but your eyes always did say more about what you were feeling than you did. Anyone from afar could tell that your gaze held a mix of emotion, from heartbreak and dejection to longing for what could’ve been and regret at the decisions you’ve made.
And you’d said to yourself a long time ago that you’d do the best you could at leaving the past in the past, but now it was coming back to haunt you in more ways than one.
He spoke to her in a passive voice, “There should be a car waiting for you outside of the lobby. I’ll meet you at the restaurant,”
She nodded, smiling glumly, and you could see the subtle hurt in her eyes. And then she glanced at you before disappearing from view, and it all made sense.
She fell too, didn’t she?
Your eyes were cast downward as you wiped your hands on your slacks, a lump forming in your throat that was hard to swallow.
You grabbed your things and planned to make a beeline out the door, planned to not spare Jimin another glance, but he was too quick. He knew you too well, and not well enough all at the same time.
“Wait,” he breathed, slightly unsteadily, almost as if he was surprised that you were moving so fast.
“For what, Jimin?” You turned to face him, eyes narrowed as they locked with his brown ones. “What could I possibly be waiting for? Because it’s not for you,”
“I thought we might’ve had more to talk about here, honestly,” his hand came up to run through his hair, something he usually did when nervous. But then again, he did that when experiencing every emotion possible, from what you remember.
“We could’ve had more to talk about 2 years ago, but you made it clear that we didn’t. Now there’s nothing for us except both of our ends of the deal.”
He chuckled dryly, licking his lips before responding. “It’s like that? After all this time?”
“You made it like that,” You said venomously through gritted teeth, getting dangerously close to him. You could smell his woodsy cologne, the same scent that you had to drive out of your mind, hoping to never smell it again because of what it’d remind you of. You took a few steps away from him, turning your back to him once again. “You made your bed, Jimin. And I can’t help you lay in it.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said, just above a whisper. You could hear the clench in his jaw, the anger that was only the tip of the iceberg.
And so you walked, not looking back, only stopping once to leave your mark and nothing more. “Piece of advice, Park: actions have consequences, and genuine favors don’t have hidden intentions. Don’t fuck up with her, too.”
You walked into the door of your condo, exhaustedly closing the door and dropping your keys on the marble countertop. Your small hands rested on the stone as your head hung low, the events of the day weighing heavily on you.
You shoulders began to shake as the mental load consumed you. The beginning of your tears stung, your lip quivering as the rain poured from your eyes.
You slid to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. You sobbed harshly, occasionally gritting your teeth when the pain felt overwhelming.
You hadn’t let this out in a long, long time. You felt safe enough, protected enough from that hurt you felt those years ago. You were certain your paths wouldn’t cross again since he went back to being on the other side of the world, but here you were, falling apart and breaking to pieces after looking into those eyes once again.
It winded you, seeing the way she looked at him. You thought it would’ve been you, running away into the sunset and basking in a love-filled haze where it would just be you two in the world. But you were wrong. So wrong, in fact, that even Jimin’s name left a bitter taste in your mouth. Something once so familiar left a broken heart-shaped bruise that you weren’t sure how to heal.
And in your absence of clarity and surety, you made the decision of reaching out to the person who made you get butterflies in your tummy instead of hornets stinging your insides.
you [7:37pm]: come over?
You waited about fifteen minutes, not knowing if he would respond. It was almost agonizing; the potential rendezvous wasn’t planned, after all. You couldn’t expect him to come running, not when you haven’t even been knowing each other that long, could you?
But then your phone made a familiar sound, and little bubbles formed in your stomach from excitement and anxiety, not knowing what the response would be from the other end of the line.
You picked up your phone slowly, wiping away a few tears so you could read the message clearly.
jungkook [7:52pm]: already ahead of you
You heard the buzz coming from the intercom seconds later, hurriedly standing up to answer it. You were afraid of how you would look to him, not having enough time to even change out of your work attire, having just sobbed your heart out — but as you answered the door, the look in Jungkook’s eyes told you that you didn’t need to be concerned with that. You were more than looks to him.
He set everything down on the floor — you took note of a bouquet of flowers, and a plastic Walgreens bag filled with things — and he cupped your face in his hands, staring at you with the gentlest of gazes. He could tell you were beyond hurt right now, that your heart was aching, and he didn’t bother to ask why — only what it was that you needed.
“How can I help?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and gently caressed your cheek, wiping it free of the stray tear that was rolling down.
His question was so simple, so genuine in nature that it made you tear up more, almost to the point of not being able to answer him.
“Just make me forget,” you whispered, eyes darting across his face, taking in his furrowed brows, his worried eyes, teeth toying with his lip ring.
And so he wrapped your arms around his neck and pat the back of your thigh to signal you to jump, catching you before shutting the door with his foot.
He walked you both to your bedroom, your head resting on his shoulder as he carried you like you were a fragile piece of glass he didn’t want to risk breaking.
He delicately laid you down, once again tucking that same strand behind your ear after it fell out of place.
You felt safe as he hovered over you, his eyes gingerly taking in your features, appreciating you and tugging on your heart strings all the while.
“I’m here,” he whispered before his lips met yours in a soft attempt to comfort you and drown all of your negative thoughts.
But then that other pair of eyes popped into your mind, a harsh reminder of a painful reality; you clenched on Jungkook’s shirt in response, kissing him harder, trying to push away the thoughts of the man who broke you, that you never seemed to fully get over.
And you repeated the action until you needed to gasp for air, breathing heavily as the lines blurred and the tears of trying to forget started to come. And he held you through it, kissing you all the while.
I’m not yours anymore.
note: i hope you guys enjoyed this!! i love the angst in this so much,, i got so excited for where this story is going after i wrote it lol.
please like, comment & reblog — the feedback is greatly appreciated !! ♡
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title: minted: two (explicit)
pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader
series: one | masterlist
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au
summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag?
note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you!
note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all!
warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn
drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est
word count: 9.8k help me @ god
-
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There’s something to be said about the human gut.
Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain.
But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.
Who is this person next to you?
Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run?
You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.
How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.
Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink.
To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”
No answer.
Alright.
“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”
All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking.
Okay. Well.
You can face forward, too.
“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”
“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”
Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”
As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree.
Mm. Does he?
From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down.
If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…
What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?
Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.
Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you!
Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too?
But that taxi drive…
Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff.
Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved.
All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is.
How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.
That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”
A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.
But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on?
One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…
Floor…
There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling.
But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with.
And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are.
“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.
Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?
Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.
You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.
The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?
How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home.
And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors.
Perfect.
“What.”
You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”
He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.”
…Is that really his only response?
“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.
“But it’s what you need.”
“Say what now?”
The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket.
But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends.
This is all too much.
“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.”
You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”
“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”
“You serious?”
“Yes, I am. So move.”
Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily?
…Oh.
That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian.
But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization.
No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun.
He did keep you alive that whole chase.
But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.
So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.
Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again.
Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done.
And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again.
Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal.
Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back.
No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance?
You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic.
Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening.
And someone’s inside?
Wait.
Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.
Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches.
However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire.
Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not.
You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse.
And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.
Yeah, you fucked up.
Fuck.
Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—
As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change.
What was that about?
“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”
“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline.
“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”
You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?
The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.”
Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.
Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.
Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!
In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”
“Shower.”
“What?”
“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.”
“It isn’t mine.”
“I know.”
Your mouth snaps shut.
Fuck. Yoongi’s right.
“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.”
When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls,
“Not interested.”
Oh. He’s…
Oh.
But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial?
The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”
A lie.
Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.”
Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core.
Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom.
Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”
“Closet.”
Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”
“Yes, princess.”
You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not.
The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room.
Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on?
As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here.
The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.
Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot.
Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light.
At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.
The whole setup is lavish.
Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use.
Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld.
Too bad you aren’t alone.
As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead.
Uhh.
What.
You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—
“You good?”
Fuck!
You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.
“You ever knock?”
“No.”
“Shocker.”
He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”
“Move.”
You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”
“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.
Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.
A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin.
You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air.
Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done.
Almost.
When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing.
Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state?
Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly—out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.”
Again with that little slant.
Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life.
“Suit yourself.”
You look up again.
But he’s already left you alone.
Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.
Why did you walk left today instead of right?
Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl.
The blood will never wash out.
Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.
Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.
Because at least you succeeded.
But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved?
Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.
Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.
You chose left today.
If you had chosen right…
Doesn’t matter.
Your palm tingles.
Blood never really washes out.
Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.
Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.
You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.
Thank the universe.
But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck.
Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright.
Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!
You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”
Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?
The duffle rests at his feet.
Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still.
No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut.
How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—
Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”
“You took too long.”
“So? That doesn’t—”
“In my shower.”
Wait. What? “Oh.”
You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.”
“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”
“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”
“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.”
Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel.
Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?
Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.”
“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”
Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”
“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.”
You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them.
Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.
On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer.
Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so.
Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside.
A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.
Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.
Do not engage do not engage do not engage.
Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your—
“You’re really mad about that, huh.”
You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”
“There was a cup of them on your table.”
“So why didn’t you grab those instead!”
Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”
Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”
“You were going to.”
As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.”
Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”
You blink at his deflection.
What was that about? What is that look for?
Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”
“Shopping.”
“Mmhmm.”
Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette.
And just like that, the conversation dies.
It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible.
But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly.
Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead.
Your noodles.
Your noodles.
You’re not hungry anymore.
Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill.
Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—
A hand.
A robed arm.
Your new utensils come back into view.
But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there.
Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes,
“Eat.”
Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain?
“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.”
“You are.”
“Not anymore.”
Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.”
The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.
“Thought you of all people would hate that.”
“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”
“Then eat.”
“I literally can’t—”
“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.”
“What?”
Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight.
“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.”
“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.”
“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”
“Don’t.”
Both of you still at your words.
And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin.
Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.”
You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier.
Yoongi looks pissed as hell.
But he hasn’t moved.
And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again.
You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today.
Fuck, you wanna hurl.
“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”
Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”
“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”
There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”
You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”
You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”
Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.
“Like I said.”
Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair.
“It’s better in the long run.”
Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this.
But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.
Fucking hell, this sucks.
Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes.
Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.
As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too.
Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers.
“What were you looking for.”
Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth.
“Did you find it.”
You swipe at both your eyes.
As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?”
“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.”
“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?”
Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.
This man is more dangerous than you thought.
“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”
“But I have what you want.”
You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”
“If you stay, I’ll show you.”
When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion.
And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl.
When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”
The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat.
Good riddance.
He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure.
But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out.
Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home.
Yearning pierces right through your chest.
The elevator is right over there.
You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.
Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No.
Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too.
How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase.
Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep.
Was that the elevator?
You cut the water off with a twist.
Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety.
A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room.
And your defense mechanism blares.
But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why?
You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too?
Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay?
Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?”
“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.”
Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?”
Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”
“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.”
Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”
“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.”
Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes.
“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.”
Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms.
There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest.
Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs.
“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.”
Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.”
Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine.
Well.
So much for leaving.
You may spend more time here than you thought.
With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call.
Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.
Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that.
Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now.
It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space.
Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere.
As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator.
So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”
Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”
Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”
“Do you always ask this many questions?”
You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”
“You’re quiet with me.”
“And even then I get you to talk.”
Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area.
God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet.
When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below.
Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out.
Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart.
That was so long ago.
You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time.
“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”
You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem.
Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.
Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm.
But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some.
Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter.
Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.”
“Do you even drink?”
“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”
Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.
It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying.
“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.
“This sector?”
“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.”
“It’s usually silent, too.”
Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.”
“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.”
You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”
He takes the offered can. “Mm.”
That answers that.
You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.
Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present.
The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs.
You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se.
Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day.
“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.”
“Why not?”
“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?”
“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”
“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”
“I know.”
Your look carries a slight pang.
“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.”
You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see.
But when it’s open, you freeze.
It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New.
Wait.
These patterns.
These are il-don?
Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless.
You’ve never seen them like this.
“They’re some of the last in mint condition.”
The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?”
“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.”
You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?”
Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.”
You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter.
Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.”
“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”
You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?”
Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?”
“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?”
Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.”
Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”
Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.”
“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”
“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”
“We? Leave me out of this.”
“Too late.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,
“I—”
“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”
Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.
Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself.
“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”
Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear,
“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”
Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe.
Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”
“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”
What.
“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”
Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…”
With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”
Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”
“Could’ve taken another train.”
“Stop.”
“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”
What the fuck is happening right now?
Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.
This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.
“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.”
Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away.
“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose,
“I should’ve left you for dead.”
Wait.
Stop.
This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.
Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?
Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—
Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.
“Go ahead then.”
Oh, this man is psychotic.
“Be my guest.”
No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”
“If you regret it, why waste time—”
“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”
Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever.
And it is frightening.
All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”
“Why.”
“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”
“You sure?”
“Yes!”
Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—
You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”
When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist.
But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.
“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.”
“Shut up—”
“But your will is weak.”
“I swear to—”
“Guess I was wrong.”
Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually.
But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you.
Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power?
Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?
Quite literally, you’re the one on top.
And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk.
He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can.
But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.
This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it.
And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.
With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.”
He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged.
Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes,
“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”
Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,
“That’s my girl.”
The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning.
To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it.
But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same.
So you quell that monster pacing in your core.
One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be.
“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.”
Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin.
Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.”
His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend,
“This world has already tried enough.”
Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again.
As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”
You slightly turn.
“You still want to go back?”
A pause. A nod.
His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it.
Quite the opposite. And that scares you more.
“If you do, you’re dead to me.”
Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else.
But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations.
“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,
“I know.”
The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip.
And you freeze.
Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate.
But fuck, you kinda want to.
Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed.
“What made you stay.”
A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…”
Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to.
And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.”
With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest,
“What a shame.”
Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong?
He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore.
“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.”
And just like that, he releases you to stand alone.
Oh. You’re going home.
Good.
This is good, right?
Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short.
What was that? What was any of that?
Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over.
…But do you want it to be?
Yes.
Of course you do.
Clouds let moonlight shine again.
When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.
A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.
Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real.
Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane.
Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.
And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging.
You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out.
How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed?
They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets.
They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—
A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes.
So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.
Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams.
Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own.
You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.
A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion.
There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air.
Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out.
The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too?
One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.
But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?
Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness.
Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start.
Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do.
This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.
As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows.
Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity.
For nothing.
All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all.
Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal.
What a shame, indeed.
As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.
And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder.
Fuck everything.
“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.”
Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares.
“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”
This is it.
The brink of no return.
Your soul dips into the dark.
“Please make me fucking forget.”
—
—
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a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going.
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synopsis: you’re a successful entrepreneur in the beauty industry and after your assistant/best friend sees the spread in Korea GQ magazine of a popular k-pop artist, she gets him on the first flight to California to start a sponsorship deal, and it was none other than the world-renowned fuckboy you met at a product launch party for Gucci two years ago.
pairing: jimin x female reader x jungkook
rating: mature (18+)
genre: enemies to lovers, love triangle, angst, fluff, smut
warnings/content: swearing, employer/client relationship, past situationship, fuckboy!jimin, celebrity!jimin, love triangle, tattoo artist!jungkook, jin is reader’s lawyer best friend
explicit content: brief mentions of sex (varies between chapters)
disclaimer: this is entirely a work of fiction, and in no way does it reflect thoughts or acts of bts in the real world (:
♡ note: finally!! sorry it took me so long to release this. it’s been a long 4 months :’) also, thank you to everyone who has read, liked, and reblogged my writing and thank you so much for the comments as well, it means a lot to me :’)
there is quite a bit of angst in this chapter, enjoy lovelies! ♡
Previous
This has to be a fucking joke, you said to yourself as you stare at the messages on your phone, jaw agape in shock and your heart dropping down to your stomach.
Jungkook had already left before you woke up this morning, leaving a small, neatly folded note on your nightstand that contained his messy handwriting, telling you that he had fun and he couldn’t wait to see you again.
It was sweet, a warm and fuzzy feeling igniting in your tummy at the thoughtful gesture.
But every ounce of warmth you felt was replaced by your breath hitching and your blood running cold as soon as you opened Naiya’s messages.
You felt queasy, like the world was rocking underneath you and your body couldn’t catch up, the aftermath bubbling and waiting to spill after you’d tried so hard to keep it at bay.
Your ghost was coming back to haunt you, threatening to suck all the air out of your lungs and leave you to fight for your sanity.
Park Jimin. The stunning musician, model, dancer and actor; a jack of all trades, and a master of many. The man who is a muse in all art forms. He’s confident and assertive, reeling you in with a sickeningly-sweet smile and endless charm.
Seeing his name was like a punch to your gut, and the thought of him entering your safe space, your livelihood that you worked so hard for, was the icing on a melancholy, 2 year old cake that you hadn’t dared to touch in fear of reopening a wound.
Park Jimin was your ghost, pervasively seeping into every part of you and you weren’t so sure you could soothe the ache this time.
And to make things worse, your friends didn’t know who he was to you, hearing about your heartbreak in pieces through text messages and cryptic ‘I should’ve known better’s’. They never knew the mysterious guy who broke you, the one who grabbed hold of your heart before you’d even noticed, and crushed it with his own bare hands.
You fought it in silence and shame, spending days holed up in your apartment, detached and in denial.
You should’ve never fell for him.
And oh, how stupid you were to think that you could escape him forever.
Pairs of eyes followed you in fear as you stormed into the office building around 4pm, a scowl etched onto your features and breath caught in your throat. No one dared to get in your way, the staff almost holding their heads down as to not encounter your wrath.
The poor intern was even too scared to greet you and ask if you wanted any coffee, something she happily did every time she saw you.
Your heels met the ground with intimidating clicks as you swiftly and angrily made your way to the board room, only pausing your stride to wait for and enter or exit the elevator.
Once you made it to the top floor, the board room was straight ahead with doors of crystalline glass. Jin sat in a chair facing away from you while Naiya met your eyes on the other side of the door, and she gulped. You were seething.
You pushed open the door, and Naiya instinctively took a few steps back.
“Explain. Now.” You spat.
Jin swiveled in his chair to face you and gave you an inquisitive yet disbelieving look. “What crawled up your ass?”
Your eyes narrowed into slits, “‘What crawled up my ass,’ Jin?” You scoffed. “Park fucking Jimin, that’s what. Are you guys serious?”
Naiya chimed in, “Wait, but what’s wrong? What do you have against Jimin?”
Jin rolled his eyes at you, “Can you not PMS right now, please?”
“Fuck you, Jin,” Both of your friends went wide-eyed, “You have no idea what kind of position this puts me in.”
“Well, maybe if you actually told us what’s going on and why you don’t like him, we can get to the bottom of it so that everything goes smoothly,” Naiya was trying to be the peacemaker.
You chuckled dryly. “Hell no, there’s no way this deal is happening. Find someone else,” You began to turn on your heel, making an attempt to exit the room in frustration.
“I hate to break it to you, but that’s not possible anymore,” Naiya said with a frown.
You spun on your heels, “Excuse me?”
“There’s no way we’d find someone in time to replace him, not if we want to be on time with the launch, and you know how important that is. A-And, he’s is already in California,”
You laughed humorlessly, a look of disbelief adorning your features.
“He should be here any minute now,” Jin coughed awkwardly.
“You can’t convince me to work with Park Jimin. I won’t. We’ll figure something else out, no matter what it is.”
“Now, now,” You turned around upon hearing the door open, a slender, feminine hand placed on the hardware as your receptionist lead the way for the subject of the conversation, the one who turned heads and lit up a room. “Is that any way to greet your client?”
There he stood in all his glory, sleek suit and lavish shades on display, accompanied by a beaming, flirtatious smile.
“Jimin,” you greeted him with gritted teeth, forcing an upward turn of your lips.
“Long time, no see, doll.”
Clearing your throat, you looked Jimin directly in his eyes, an irritated glint accompanying your gaze. “Everyone, can you please give Mr. Park and I the room for a bit?”
You eyed his female counterpart—or, assistant, as he’d probably say—as she stood slightly behind him, clad in a blouse and pencil skirt, with red bottom heels that you’re sure Jimin paid for. She carried herself with poise, and she held her head slightly down, as if she questioned whether she was worth being chosen to come to this meeting. You had been like her once. Young, beautiful and easily manipulated, eager to people-please and have others be proud of the work that you did, longing to be appreciated and cared for by a handsome man who would love you.
She was too good for him. Too delicate.
You were like her once, but you told yourself that you would never be like that again.
She spoke up in a voice that was much too tender for the likes of him, “That won’t be needed, Miss. I am to accompany him during the meeting, as there is business invol–“
He waved her off before proceeding to unbutton his suit jacket, exuding an annoying aura of confidence that made you silently clench your teeth while he smirked. “It’s fine, Minji. She’s an old friend.”
She took a step back and held her head down as if she’d made a mistake, and your gaze softened upon witnessing her reaction.
“It’ll be quick, I promise,” you gave her a small smile, which she returned. “I will have my assistant lead you to our executive lounge so you can enjoy the amenities while Mr. Park and I catch up, and then we can speak about a potential partnership with you present, if that’s okay.”
She smiled at you, “Of course! Thank you Miss,” She waved before exiting along with Naiya and Jin, leaving just you and Jimin alone.
Suddenly the room became colder and the air heavier at the realization.
You went to sit on the opposite side of the table from where you were previously standing , aiming to place as much space between you and Jimin as possible.
“Sit.” You gestured to the chair across from you, making a point not to make eye contact.
“Someone’s a little bossy,” He said with a smug smile as he took his seat. “It suits you.”
You scoffed, clasping your hands together and resisting the urge to clench them out of irritation and anxiousness. “Cut the shit, Jimin. Why are you here?”
He raised a brow out of amusement and feigned offense. “I’m here for a contract.”
You narrowed your eyes, suspicion in your tone as you spoke. “See, I don’t think you need money that bad, Jimin. I’ve read the tabloids, seen the magazines. You’re successful and we haven’t spoken in years, so why not just keep the bridge burned?”
He smirked, “Someone’s been doing research on me, I see,”
Your glare was icy, your nonchalance being the cherry on top. “Trust me when I say that I wish I never heard of you at all.”
You didn’t see his minuscule flinch at your words, or how he actually used the excuse of loosening his tie to hide himself wiping away the clamminess of his hands.
The look in his eyes was different.
“Oh, poor thing, did I ruin sex for you with any other man? Is that why you hate me so much? I know it’s been some years, but I wouldn’t mind going again if it meant you’d take out the stick that’s far up your ass,” He fake-pitied you, taking out a piece of gum and popping it into his mouth.
You scoffed, mouth open wide in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Not in the slightest,” He winked. He took out another piece of gum and offered it to you, “Want one?”
“No, I don’t want your damn gum! Matter of fact, I don’t want anything from you. You can get the fuck out,” You stood up from your chair, making your way towards the door to escort him out.
He gently caught your arm before you got too far away, standing up himself and pulling you towards him.
The proximity between the two of you was close enough to feel his breath ghosting across your face.
Jimin’s voice was little above a whisper, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he spoke. “You can kick me out, but my business isn’t the one on the verge of collapse, doll. It may be a secret to everyone else, but I know you need this deal. I called myself doing you a favor, and you seem pretty ungrateful, hmm?”
Your breath hitched, as if the wind had been knocked out of you and you were struggling to come back down to earth. “I don’t need your charity,” you squeaked.
He provocatively tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a jolt of electricity you were fighting against because of the gesture.
“My charity, no, but the money you’ll get from my involvement, you do need that. Deny it all you want,” He said as he pulled away from you, flicking his suit jacket and smirking. “Your choice to drown or not.”
He walked away from you, heading towards the door to let himself out. He placed his hand on the hardware, fully ready to pull and rid himself of you if you declined his offer.
But to both your surprise, you gave in. Again.
“Wait,” You called out to him in a shaky, almost panicked voice, one that you hated to let anyone else hear. You felt too vulnerable, too fragile in this state, but if you wanted to be successful, sometimes you had to face things you didn’t like; even when said thing was the reason you questioned your self worth in the first place.
You turned around to face him, breath heavy and eyes downcast in shame that you needed him, needed the opportunity or everything you’d worked for could crash and burn in a matter of months.
You stood there frozen in place, fiddling with your thumbs and suddenly feeling powerless. He didn’t smile when he saw your unsteady hands. He didn't have an egotistical expression for once, and somehow that made you feel even worse. You didn’t want to be looked at with pity or seen as a failure, and that’s all that you radiated. And it was worse that Jimin could see it, too. “Will you stay?”
Jimin almost flinched at your small voice, something he didn’t experience often, and his gaze softened while directed at the ground. You were strong and he knew that, but your question threw him off, and upon seeing how what he said affected you, he questioned if he’d gone too far. He cleared his throat and his voice sounded strained,“ I’ll let Minji know to come back. I’ll stay.”
But he couldn’t look at you like this.
Not when it was because of him. Again.
“I believe that’s all we have to discuss; is that correct, Boss?” Naiya eyed you for approval, Jin having already gone over the contract with everyone in the room. All parties were in agreement of the $2million dollar arrangement for a contract of six months. It made sense, as much as you hated it—Jimin being onboard was bound to bring in tons of revenue and you’d be able to stay afloat, as expensive as your products were to make and maintain. He was doing you a favor and although you appreciated that your biggest problem was sorted out, you weren’t looking forward to the fact that there was almost certainly a catch. Why else would he come all this way, after leaving a bad taste in your mouth and not seeing you in years?
“That should be all,” You smiled, but it didn’t meet your eyes.
“Perfect!” Minji exclaimed, excited to be apart of the deal that occurred. She stood abruptly, eager to shake your hand and congratulate you and Jimin. “Congratulations and thank you for the opportunity,”
“Of course,” the upward turn of your lips was genuine this time, having been in the same position as her not that long ago.
Everyone stood and began to file out of the board room as the evening came to an end, but you noticed that Jimin was slower to wrap up the meeting. He dragged, as if he had more to say to you, as if he didn’t want to leave. And your heart couldn’t take that. Not again.
He buttoned his suit jacket before grabbing his folder filled with a copy of the contract and legal paperwork off of the table. He turned to see if everyone else left and you glanced at the doorway, seeing his assistant waiting patiently, as if adorning his features, eyes widening when she noticed he caught her staring.
He smirked but you knew it was an arrogant one, one that someone like her didn’t deserve. She deserved a heartfelt smile, a gentle gesture. You could tell she was sweet and by the way she lovingly took in his features, you knew there were feelings there. It almost didn’t hurt—you wanted to root for her. You wanted to coach him on how to finally treat someone right, show him that it was the same way that he should’ve treated you. But that time was gone now and while you recognized she harbored feelings, a pang of jealousy hit the pit of your stomach, twisting it in an uncomfortable knot. So, you stared — it was a distracted, almost blank gaze, but your eyes always did say more about what you were feeling than you did. Anyone from afar could tell that your gaze held a mix of emotion, from heartbreak and dejection to longing for what could’ve been and regret at the decisions you’ve made.
And you’d said to yourself a long time ago that you’d do the best you could at leaving the past in the past, but now it was coming back to haunt you in more ways than one.
He spoke to her in a passive voice, “There should be a car waiting for you outside of the lobby. I’ll meet you at the restaurant,”
She nodded, smiling glumly, and you could see the subtle hurt in her eyes. And then she glanced at you before disappearing from view, and it all made sense.
She fell too, didn’t she?
Your eyes were cast downward as you wiped your hands on your slacks, a lump forming in your throat that was hard to swallow.
You grabbed your things and planned to make a beeline out the door, planned to not spare Jimin another glance, but he was too quick. He knew you too well, and not well enough all at the same time.
“Wait,” he breathed, slightly unsteadily, almost as if he was surprised that you were moving so fast.
“For what, Jimin?” You turned to face him, eyes narrowed as they locked with his brown ones. “What could I possibly be waiting for? Because it’s not for you,”
“I thought we might’ve had more to talk about here, honestly,” his hand came up to run through his hair, something he usually did when nervous. But then again, he did that when experiencing every emotion possible, from what you remember.
“We could’ve had more to talk about 2 years ago, but you made it clear that we didn’t. Now there’s nothing for us except both of our ends of the deal.”
He chuckled dryly, licking his lips before responding. “It’s like that? After all this time?”
“You made it like that,” You said venomously through gritted teeth, getting dangerously close to him. You could smell his woodsy cologne, the same scent that you had to drive out of your mind, hoping to never smell it again because of what it’d remind you of. You took a few steps away from him, turning your back to him once again. “You made your bed, Jimin. And I can’t help you lay in it.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he said, just above a whisper. You could hear the clench in his jaw, the anger that was only the tip of the iceberg.
And so you walked, not looking back, only stopping once to leave your mark and nothing more. “Piece of advice, Park: actions have consequences, and genuine favors don’t have hidden intentions. Don’t fuck up with her, too.”
You walked into the door of your condo, exhaustedly closing the door and dropping your keys on the marble countertop. Your small hands rested on the stone as your head hung low, the events of the day weighing heavily on you.
You shoulders began to shake as the mental load consumed you. The beginning of your tears stung, your lip quivering as the rain poured from your eyes.
You slid to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. You sobbed harshly, occasionally gritting your teeth when the pain felt overwhelming.
You hadn’t let this out in a long, long time. You felt safe enough, protected enough from that hurt you felt those years ago. You were certain your paths wouldn’t cross again since he went back to being on the other side of the world, but here you were, falling apart and breaking to pieces after looking into those eyes once again.
It winded you, seeing the way she looked at him. You thought it would’ve been you, running away into the sunset and basking in a love-filled haze where it would just be you two in the world. But you were wrong. So wrong, in fact, that even Jimin’s name left a bitter taste in your mouth. Something once so familiar left a broken heart-shaped bruise that you weren’t sure how to heal.
And in your absence of clarity and surety, you made the decision of reaching out to the person who made you get butterflies in your tummy instead of hornets stinging your insides.
you [7:37pm]: come over?
You waited about fifteen minutes, not knowing if he would respond. It was almost agonizing; the potential rendezvous wasn’t planned, after all. You couldn’t expect him to come running, not when you haven’t even been knowing each other that long, could you?
But then your phone made a familiar sound, and little bubbles formed in your stomach from excitement and anxiety, not knowing what the response would be from the other end of the line.
You picked up your phone slowly, wiping away a few tears so you could read the message clearly.
jungkook [7:52pm]: already ahead of you
You heard the buzz coming from the intercom seconds later, hurriedly standing up to answer it. You were afraid of how you would look to him, not having enough time to even change out of your work attire, having just sobbed your heart out — but as you answered the door, the look in Jungkook’s eyes told you that you didn’t need to be concerned with that. You were more than looks to him.
He set everything down on the floor — you took note of a bouquet of flowers, and a plastic Walgreens bag filled with things — and he cupped your face in his hands, staring at you with the gentlest of gazes. He could tell you were beyond hurt right now, that your heart was aching, and he didn’t bother to ask why — only what it was that you needed.
“How can I help?” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and gently caressed your cheek, wiping it free of the stray tear that was rolling down.
His question was so simple, so genuine in nature that it made you tear up more, almost to the point of not being able to answer him.
“Just make me forget,” you whispered, eyes darting across his face, taking in his furrowed brows, his worried eyes, teeth toying with his lip ring.
And so he wrapped your arms around his neck and pat the back of your thigh to signal you to jump, catching you before shutting the door with his foot.
He walked you both to your bedroom, your head resting on his shoulder as he carried you like you were a fragile piece of glass he didn’t want to risk breaking.
He delicately laid you down, once again tucking that same strand behind your ear after it fell out of place.
You felt safe as he hovered over you, his eyes gingerly taking in your features, appreciating you and tugging on your heart strings all the while.
“I’m here,” he whispered before his lips met yours in a soft attempt to comfort you and drown all of your negative thoughts.
But then that other pair of eyes popped into your mind, a harsh reminder of a painful reality; you clenched on Jungkook’s shirt in response, kissing him harder, trying to push away the thoughts of the man who broke you, that you never seemed to fully get over.
And you repeated the action until you needed to gasp for air, breathing heavily as the lines blurred and the tears of trying to forget started to come. And he held you through it, kissing you all the while.
I’m not yours anymore.
note: i hope you guys enjoyed this!! i love the angst in this so much,, i got so excited for where this story is going after i wrote it lol.
please like, comment & reblog — the feedback is greatly appreciated !! ♡
You don't need anyone's approval for the stories you write and the art you create. But it's also absolutely valid to want some approval from your audience. Kudos and likes don't determine your creation's worth. But it just feels amazing to receive them.
synopsis: you’re a successful entrepreneur in the beauty industry and after your assistant/best friend sees the spread in Korea GQ magazine of a popular k-pop artist, she gets him on the first flight to California to start a sponsorship deal, and it was none other than the world-renowned fuckboy you met at a product launch party for Gucci two years ago.
pairing: jimin x female reader x jungkook
rating: mature (18+)
genre: enemies to lovers, love triangle, angst, fluff, smut
warnings/content: swearing, employer/client relationship, past situationship, fuckboy!jimin, celebrity!jimin, love triangle, tattoo artist!jungkook, jin is reader’s lawyer best friend
explicit content: varies between chapters, this one is reader x jungkook, protected sex (good job jk), oral sex (female receiving, but mentions of wanting to give a bj), slight hand/veins kink, multiple orgasms, missionary, doggy style, spanking, jk has a daddy kink, jk calls reader babygirl/princess
disclaimer: this is entirely a work of fiction, and in no way does it reflect thoughts or acts of bts in the real world (:
“Please make sure you actually take off the lens filter before shooting this time,” you told your assistant and best friend, Naiya. You were already behind on shooting and editing the photos for your product line, and you couldn’t afford any more mishaps — otherwise the new launch would be late, and it wouldn’t just be your pay that you had to worry about.
“It was one time!” She rolled her eyes before double-checking that the lens filter actually was off, and then she started taking some photos of the models that were standing against the backdrop. Between each shot, she looked down at the electronic viewfinder on the camera, assessing what could be tweaked and what needed to stay.
She smiled at the models, telling them to take a 10 minute break before walking back over to you. “So, here are the shots so far,” The both of you looked at the screen as she pressed the button to proceed to the next photo, and you were genuinely impressed. “Some of these we can use. They’re great, aside from just a few things to edit. I can do that in post, of course — but, I do think we could use a high-profile male model.”
Your eyebrow rose in question, “High profile? You don’t think we have enough models already?”
“We have a good amount, sure, but finding someone famous will bring more exposure to the brand. Which leads to more inclusivity, more press, more deals — and more coin. Plus, you sell men’s skincare products too, so it’ll look even better for the optics,”
You were actually speechless. Partly because you hadn’t thought of it before (not even the head of your advertising department did, which is a shame), and partly because she was absolutely right. Getting someone with a lot of recognition to model for your beauty brand would create a massive amount of exposure for your business, and could finally land you a spot working with a brand you’ve dreamed of collaborating with since your teenage years.
You were successful in your industry, yes, and it took you a long time and a lot of hard work to get where you are, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t strive to be even better within the industry. Following your passion came with sacrifices, and you weren’t about to let those dark times be for nothing.
But at the same time, this product line that you were about to put out was going to be the bread and butter of your business, so you needed it to be great. Almost perfect, even, and you didn’t know how long it would take to find someone to fit the bill, for the deal to work in both of your favors. It seemed like it was too risky.
You sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. It would really help and we could get tons of publicity from it, but it’s just cutting it too close, Nai. We can’t have this product launch be anything less than damn near perfect.” You walked over to a work desk that was in the studio, pulling out the chair and sitting down before stressfully running a hand through your hair. “I mean, who would I even reach out to? Would we have to do model calls again? The launch is in less than two months now,”
“Girl, look at these,” Naiya said as she walked over to you before plopping down on top of the desk and reaching over to grab her laptop. She took a sip of her drink, opening up the Adobe Photoshop application before turning her laptop towards you. “These are some of the finished shots from the other day. We didn’t even think we’d be able to finish editing these in time, and look how amazing they turned out,” She wasn’t lying — they were stunning.
“They’re beautiful,” you agreed and she beamed, proud of herself. She was your go-to for everything photo and video and she’d wanted to get into that scene long before she actually started, so she had a lot of knowledge and skin in the game in regard to what would look the best for the vision you were going for. She definitely had your back, but there were still some things you were unsure about business-wise, that neither of you were really familiar with. “You’re great at what you do, but what about the other stuff? Making a deal and all the legal things that go along with it? We’re not just talking about influencers that get a commission from sales here, you know?”
“You let me handle finding the person and closing the deal, you go talk to Jin about starting a contract and all the legal shit that goes with it.”
“Absolutely the fuck not.” Jin eyed you with a blank expression as he sat comfortably with his hands folded, judging you.
“What the hell do you mean?!” You exclaimed before turning to examine yourself in the mirror again. “This is cute!”
“You got asked out to dinner after being dry for like 2 years and you can’t do better than leggings and a sweater?”
You rolled your eyes. “First of all, this sweater was expensive,” You walked over to the rack inside your closet, grimacing at the idea of having to wear a dress or skirt. “Second of all, you just want your women to be as high maintenance as you.”
Jin laughed, “This is true, but you would definitely increase your chances of getting laid if you put in more effort,”
“Who says I’m trying to get laid?”
“Your attitude and the fact that you used one of my charging cables for your vibrator.” You felt your face heat up at Jin’s comment, and you wanted to proceed to crawl into a hole, lie in the fetal position, and stay there for eternity.
“I hate you,” you frowned and Jin smirked.
“I love you, too, and wear the black dress. It’ll suit you.”
You spotted the dress at the end of the rack. It was made of a sleek material, smooth silken fabric with mesh, tulle-like sleeves. You’d bought it about 2 years ago after an event in Los Angeles. It was nighttime and on the way back to the hotel, you walked passed the prettiest little boutique and fell in love with the dress immediately — but you never wore it.
You frowned, silently questioning if you could pull it off. It was a different time back then, one where you felt on top of the world and you thought you’d found someone that would sweep you off of your feet and you’d beam at seeing his glimmering eyes rake upon your beauty in the dress. But it didn’t happen that way. In fact, it didn’t happen at all.
In an effort to distract yourself from your thoughts, you decided to ask Jin about the modeling contract.
“Okay, fine, but there’s something I need to talk to you about first.”
“And what’s that?” He raised his eyebrow in question.
“So, you know how I’m releasing a new product line soon?”
He scoffed, “About damn time! Of course I’m already handsome, we all know this, but men need good skincare too,”
You rolled your eyes, “Hence the reason I’m putting out this line, Jin. Anyways, Naiya proposed the idea that we should have a high-profile male model, preferably someone really famous who can bring us a lot of publicity,”
“Okay, and did you find this person yet?”
“Naiya’s working on that. But I do need your help with creating a contract and all the legal shit that’s included,” You grabbed the dress off of the rack hesitantly.
He brought a hand up to his chin as if he were thinking before meeting your gaze. “Alright, say I do it. What do I get out of it?”
“Um...my love and support as your best friend?”
“Will love and support pay my bills?”
You glared at him, “No, but you sure do eat a lot of my food to not pay my grocery bill.”
He laughed nervously, bringing up a finger to rub at his temple, “Well played,”
“Will a full-size bottle of that serum you like be good enough?”
“Throw in those little eye patches too, I don’t care what anyone says about me for using them — my bags are horrendous these days.”
You laughed and Jin cracked a smile. “Deal.”
jungkook [8:31pm]: i’m outside pretty, buzz me up?
you hearted a message from jungkook
You happened to meet Jungkook about 2 months ago when you decided to get a tattoo for the first time. You were really excited about the journey you were on with your business and the woman you were becoming, so you decided to get a self love tattoo that really resonated with you, and Jungkook was your artist.
During your session you couldn’t stop ogling at him due to his good looks and his many, many tattoos — he boldly asked for your number afterwards and you gladly but shyly gave it to him. After talking for a couple months and your busy schedules finally coinciding, Jungkook had been adamant about taking you on a date.
You walked over to the buzzer next to the door of your luxury condo and pressed the button to let Jungkook through the downstairs entrance. Your heart fluttered at the fact that he chose to come all the way to the fifth floor of your building to come get you instead of asking you to meet him downstairs.
You heard a gentle knock before opening the door, meeting Jungkook’s gaze as he presented you with a bouquet of flowers.
You grinned with rosy cheeks, “Aren’t you the gentleman?”
“I try,” He smiled smugly.
“You definitely succeeded,” You walked over to put the flowers in a vase with some water before leaving out. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Jungkook. This is beyond sweet,”
“I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out and show you a good time,” He grabbed your hand as he met your eyes, just as you finished putting away the flowers. “Come on, we don’t wanna be late for our reservation.”
You blushed even harder. “Y-you made a reservation?”
“Of course, you’re too pretty for me not to,” He flashed you a grin before grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours, and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.
The date went well. Jungkook had taken you to a restaurant that had really good food even though it was overpriced, and you liked the vibe of it. It was fancy, with the wait staff dressed in black-tie attire and you were happy that you went with the dress Seokjin suggested. Jungkook took every opportunity to compliment you and he didn’t just compliment your looks, but your conversation as well.
He’d also told you about his career as a tattoo artist and how he’d loved it, having opened up his own shop about a year prior, and you shared details about your journey into the beauty industry. It was almost endearing, the way that he talked about his job, and you felt the same way about yours. Although it could be really stressful, you couldn’t see yourself doing anything else, and you could tell Jungkook shared that with you. It was a connection beyond the physical attraction; it was mental, too, the way it seemed you both complimented each other.
Although, the physical attraction was definitely there.
He’d absentmindedly roll up his sleeves a bit showing his veiny arms as he focused on talking with you, his lip ring glinting in the moody lightning. It made you want to bite your lip, and you shuffled a bit in your seat, growing flustered at the sight of the man before you.
He was fully dressed, engaging in conversation, and you found yourself enamored with him, in awe even though he hadn’t even touched you. Seeing his dimples when he smirked made you want to whimper. Clock it to maybe the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a couple years, and Seokjin’s words had started to creep into your mind, but Jungkook had you hot and bothered without even trying.
“You okay there?” He smirked, not missing the pinkish tint to your cheeks.
Slightly startled because you’d been caught, you replied sheepishly before clearing your throat, “Y-yeah, I’m fine,”
He wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin after taking the last bite of his food and seeing that you were done with yours, suggested you both do something to wind down, but not end your date so soon.
“Do you wanna take a little walk in the city for a bit? I remembered you saying you hadn’t been to this part of town in a while,”
There go the stupid butterflies again.
You arrived outside of your apartment building, Jungkook skillfully parking his sleek car as close as he could to shorten the walk.
He turned off the engine, the both of you relaxing in each other’s presence before either of you decided to leave. He was mesmerizing, lax in nature yet attractively attentive and his scent drove you crazy; it was an earthy, musky scent, one that made your mouth water and your thighs instinctively rub together.
His eye contact sent a delicious chill down your spine, and you missed the burn that his lips left on your hand after giving it a gentle kiss.
Instead of kissing your hand you wanted him to kiss other places, and suddenly his spacious car became too cramped and stuffy for your liking.
To put it plainly, you wanted him out of the car and in your bed. And even though you were shy as hell, this was one opportunity you definitely didn’t want to let pass you by.
You blinked at him, trying to steady your breath before speaking, but it still came out a little bit more breathy than you’d like, and unbeknownst to you, made Jungkook’s dick jump in his pants. “Would you want to come up?”
His eyes went wide with surprise before he tried to shake it off. He cleared his throat, not expecting you to ask, but he took you up on the offer.
In usual Jungkook fashion, he smirked. “Lead the way, Princess.”
You took the elevator up to your condo, hastily putting in your key once you got to your door. You stepped in, taking off your jacket and offering to hang up Jungkook’s.
He closed the door quietly before pinning you against it, his face dangerously close to yours.
His voice was just above a whisper, thick and gravelly. His gaze switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips, and he absentmindedly brought his tongue out to wet his own. “Let me make this clear, do you want this? Because I do,”
You swallowed thickly, already feeling desire pooling in the pit of your stomach at the hold that Jungkook had on you right now. You couldn’t help but nod to answer him, not finding the strength to use your voice. Jungkook wasn’t too happy about that.
“Use your words, baby,” He moved to your ear before dipping just below it to leave a kiss there, a kiss that added to the fuel that was already him hovering over you like this.
“Y-Yes,” you croaked. “I want it,”
“Want what?” He probed, chuckling softly as he continued to pepper kisses along your skin, slowly moving from your ear and down your neck. He could feel you shifting, your thighs squeezing together to give yourself some relief. “If you want more, you gotta use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me,”
He kissed a particular spot that made you gasp softly and offer more of your neck to him. He sucked on the spot, making you whimper and flutter your eyes closed before he pulled away entirely.
You frowned out of disappointment and opened your eyes to see his smug face, lips curled into an amused smirk. There was a glint in his eyes that made your mouth run dry.
“If you don’t want to use your words, I can’t help you, and by the looks of it, I think you want me to,” He bit his lip as he surveyed you, looking you up and down and your tongue came out to wet your lips, “But consent is important, and I need to know if you want it too, and that I’m not reading this wrong,”
You struggled to meet his eyes, simultaneously wanting to crawl into a hole and crawl under him, having him hover over you with his silver chain dangling in your face. You managed to find the courage, though, and the butterflies turned into searing-hot sparks.
“Y-you’re not reading it wrong, I want you, Jungkook. I want you to touch me,”
He cockily grinned at you before closing the gap between the two of you, “Thought you’d never ask.”
He brought his lips to yours, sending all of your nerve endings on fire and creating a heat that pooled in the pit of your stomach. He grabbed the back of your neck roughly before his fingers found themselves in your hair and he tugged slightly on the strands, causing you to moan.
“Oh, she likes that, huh?” He slid his hand down your body before toying with the hem of your dress. “You look so pretty with this on,”
“It would look prettier off,” You quipped, bothered that he wasn’t where you needed him to be.
“Someone’s eager,” he chuckled deeply before dragging his fingers upwards, letting you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the skin of your thighs. He lightly grabbed the bottom of your dress before pulling it up to your hips. He traced the fabric of your thong with his finger, “Cute,” he said, distracting you a bit from his hands before he firmly pressed a thumb on your clit over your underwear, rubbing in small circles.
“Fuck,” you whispered, throwing your head back against the door, relishing in his touch. You started grinding against his hand, desperate for relief, and he didn’t hesitate to call you out on it.
“So fucking needy,” he growled, and you felt an electrifying jolt run through your body again. He rubbed harder and you gasped, rolling your eyes back. “I barely touched you and you’re already soaking through your panties.”
You brought your hand up to rake your manicured nails along his scalp before pulling, earning a grunt of approval from him. You smashed your lips onto his in fervor and he grunted, opening his mouth to allow you entrance and your tongues battled for dominance. He held you closer, cupping your scantily clad ass in his big, veiny hands before slapping your ass hard. You let out a small, surprised yelp before relishing and moaning at the sting.
He did it again but harder, and you were positive you were in fact dripping down your legs at this point.
You pecked him a couple of times before grabbing his hand and leading him after you. “Room. Now.”
Once you got to your room, Jungkook proceeded to turn you around to face him and continued kissing you, bringing up a hand to cup your face.
He walked you backwards and when the backs of your heels reached the frame, he pushed you onto the bed.
He stood over you, skilled hands working at undoing his belt and you could see how hard he was. Throwing your head back, your hands reached your clothed breasts and began to fondle them, fingertips enclosing and twisting your nipples, and Jungkook’s mouth watered at the sight.
His belt flew to the floor somewhere and he grabbed the back of your calves to pull you closer to him at the edge of the bed. Your dress was covering too much, he decided.
“Take your dress off, babygirl, unless you want me to rip it.”
You almost moaned at his words. The dress flew somewhere too, and you lie in front of him, clothed in nothing but your thong, tits on full display.
He licked his lips and as you saw his face coming toward you, you could’ve sworn it would’ve been to take one of your tits in his mouth, but he placed a kiss above your belly button. And you shivered as you saw that he kept going lower.
He peppered soft, slow pecks along your skin until he was face to face with the source of your wetness, and Jungkook leaned in to lick a strip on the material of your panties. Your hands fisted the blanket as he teased you at an agonizingly slow pace, moving his tongue anywhere but the place you actually needed him, making you squirm.
He hooked his fingers underneath your underwear before ripping it off of you, the frail piece of lace no match for his strength as it tore.
“Will just have to buy you another pair.” He winked before kissing you again, but this time right above your clit, his breath warm and his touch sending you into overdrive.
You spread your legs for him eagerly and his long fingers spread your lips, stopping to admire you. You self-consciously had half a mind to close them as he gazed upon your lower half, but he held them open and finally licked a strip from your hole to your clit.
“S-shit,” you moaned as he held you open, his tongue meeting your clit as he swirled it in tight circles before giving it a hard suck. “Fuck!”
“Mmm,” He moaned against you, causing you to shiver again, hips bucking into his mouth. “You taste good, gonna make you cum on my tongue first.”
He lapped at you like you were the dessert he craved but never had, as if you were the best thing he’d ever taste. He licked at you, flattening his tongue before circling your clit again, and you had to try your best not to scream.
And you didn’t scream, until he started sucking on your clit again.
“Fucking shit, ‘Kook,” You moaned loudly and he hummed at the nickname. You had never been eaten out this good before, and you were so close to cumming on his tongue in so short of a time that you were almost embarrassed.
One of his fingers teased against your hole before diving in, and your toes curled before he added another. “Gotta stretch you out,” He mumbled against your pussy before swirling his tongue again. He curled his fingers expertly, reaching the spongey part within you that made tears prick your eyes from the pleasure.
You arched your back, hips leading away from his mouth before he tightened his grip around them with his other hand and held you so close you were worried you’d suffocate him.
He made eye contact with you and it had you feeling like you were going to combust. You reached down to tangle your fingers into his hair and he created a faster pace with his digits, darting in and out of you so quickly that you were sure you’d cum in 5 minutes flat.
His let go of your hip to rub your clit as his tongue took a break, and the coil in your stomach tightened even more, tears rolling down your face at how good he was making you feel.
“Look at how well that pussy takes my fingers,” he mused, “Fuck, you’re so pretty,”
Your pussy tightened around his fingers and he slapped your clit lightly, “Fuck, yes!” you were shouting, and it made his heart swell at the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to make you cum hard, and fuck if he wasn’t gonna taste it. He wanted all of you.
“I’m so close,” you said all breathy, your vocal cords nearly strained, and you had so much more to go. Jungkook’s goal was to make sure you couldn’t walk the next day.
“Cum for me, pretty,” He rasped, before sucking on your clit hard, and watching you come undone on his tongue.
“I-I’m gonna cum, I’m — Jungkook!”
He hummed as he lapped up your juices, tasting you as he let you ride out your high and when you came down from it, you thought he’d give you a break. But he wasn’t done.
He stood up and brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them to get every last bit of you off of them. He leaned in to hover over you and kiss you, your tongue colliding with his as you tasted yourself. To your surprise, it only seemed to make you wetter.
He took off his boxers, cock springing up to slap against his stomach. It was leaky, the tip oozing precum and you wanted so badly to have him in your mouth but when you’d suggested it, he declined and you pouted.
He grabbed a condom from you don’t even know where and ripped it with his teeth before rolling it on. “Uh-uh, tonight’s about you. You can take care of me another time, babygirl,” He said before winking at you and pumping himself a couple times before lining himself up with your entrance.
He grabbed your legs by your ankles and put them over his shoulder, pushing into you and you mewled at the stretch. He stopped to let you get acclimated to the size and waited until you gave him a nod to continue before backing out of you and snapping his hips in a pace that was so rough and so fast it damn near knocked the wind out of you.
You screamed so loud that were sure your neighbors would hate you, but you didn’t care, not one bit.
“S-Shit, your cock is so good,” He groaned as he continued his pace while you were clutching the blanket so hard your knuckles were turning white. “Do it again,”
He snapped his hips into you again, hitting your cervix. “Babygirl likes that, huh? You like when I slam my cock into you?”
“F-fuck, yeah, I l-love it,”
“How is your pussy still so tight after fucking you with my fingers like that,” He was gritting his teeth, trying not to empty his load into you already. He can usually hold out but your pussy was too good, so slick and tight and sucking him in.
You clenched purposefully and giggled and he groaned, damn near having to stop to pace himself because of you. Nonetheless he kept going, and he was determined to wreck your pussy and make you crave him afterwards.
He grabbed your legs and pushed so you were bent at the knees and you were holding them in place. Then he started speeding up again, snapping his hips into you and you were seeing stars.
“Fuuuuck, J-“
“Say my name baby, who’s fucking you this good?”
“You are, J-Jungkook, fuck,” you threw your head back into the pillows, eyes rolling back and toes curling.
He was holding onto you so tight, thrusting into you so hard he was going to leave pretty little bruises for you to remember the night by.
“Your pussy is s-so good,” He reached down to rub your clit, and you arched your back again, clenching around him and he moaned. “W-wanna fuck you in doggy before I make you cum again,”
He slid out of you, leaving you feeling empty and missing his warmth before he helped you turn over, positioning you face down, ass up.
He smacked your ass with force and you whimpered at the sting before wiggling your bum and teasing him so he’d do it again.
He did it harder this time and the pain had you gritting your teeth, but it sent a delicious chill along your veins that was intoxicating, and you wanted more.
He lined himself up at your entrance again and as you felt him lined up perfectly, his head peaking at your hole, you slammed back against him, ass meeting his pelvis as he bottomed out. You moaned into the blanket, grabbing fistfuls of it.
“Fuck!” He yelled, eyes rolling back and you felt the coil winding up again at him being vocal. “Babygirl wants back shots from Daddy, yeah? If you wanted me to drill you, Princess, all you had to do was ask.”
Oh shit.
Ohhhh shit.
He pulled almost all the way out of you before snapping his hips again, bottoming out and hitting your cervix so good your toes curled and your back arched so much you knew you’d be sore afterwards.
He continued his relentless pace and you met his thrusts, his balls slapping delectably against your clit and you moaned pornographically in response.
He reached forward to grab your hair and pull you up so that your back met his chest, and the burn made fire ignite in your belly, so much so that the coil was going to snap any second now.
It was too much and not enough all at once. You wanted more and more of whatever he was willing to give you, you wanted to be so drunk on his dick that you forgot your own name.
He reached down to rub circles on your clit and that’s when you lost it.
“J-Jungkook, I’m cumming!” You creamed on his cock with a cry and a shake, quaking from the sheer amount of pleasure of your orgasm. He coaxed you through it as you rode out your high, his fingers still playing with your clit as he rubbed it just the way you liked.
He led you down to the bed, gently as he slowed his pace inside you. “I’m almost there, Princess. Daddy’s gonna cum for you,”
You moaned loudly, leaking even more at the name. You loved how vocal he was and how sexy he made you feel. It was addicting.
And to try to repay him for how good he made you feel, you managed to have the strength to throw your ass onto him, hard, to get him to cum. You wanted his load in you.
“F-fuck baby, I really will cum if you keep doing that,” He bit his lip, toying with the ring and you were glad you had turned around slightly in time to see it. When you faced back forward, Jungkook was in for a treat.
You pushed back with force, arching your back so well that he hit the right spots all while clenching your pussy like you wanted to milk him and he loved it.
“S-Shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,”
“Cum for me Daddy,” you said with a sensual tone, one that had his eyes rolling back into his head as your ass met his hips one last time before spilling his load into the condom.
He came with a hiss and holding onto your hips for dear life. You were sure to have marks tomorrow, and neither of you were mad about it.
After coming down from his post-orgasm high, he gently pulled out of you before proceeding to take off the condom and tie a knot before throwing it away in the bathroom connected to your room.
He was rummaging in there for what seemed like a tad bit too long, and you were puzzled although you were too tired to see what he was doing. You heard the sink run for a few seconds before being turned off, and then you saw him come out of the bathroom, damp towel in hand.
“Sorry about that,” He smiled sheepishly. “I wanted to get something to clean you up,” He gently wiped your juices from your body. It was relaxing and gentle, soothing you. You smiled in appreciation before thanking him, grinning as you met his eyes.
“Still the gentleman,” He winked, sending butterflies roaming around your stomach again. It was becoming a regular thing with Jungkook, and you liked it.
“I try,” He laughed and you threw a pillow at him while laughing too.
You got up to go pee before changing into some underwear and a loosely fitted t-shirt. You glanced at the clock and saw that it said 3 am before turning off the lights and climbing into bed, Jungkook cuddling up next to you and you laid your head on his chest.
The light coming from your phone was bright as it flashed and you heard the familiar tone of an incoming iMessage, but you chose to ignore it, as Jungkook was too warm and this was the best you’d felt in a long time.
You were in for a big surprise tomorrow, but for now, as comfy and giddy as you were, maybe you could get used to having Jungkook around.
2 unread messages
naiyaaa [3:02am]: srry i know it’s hella late, i fell asleep at like 7 while watching my show lmao
naiyaaa [3:02am]: just wanted to tell u i got somebody to model for u!! it’s park jimin, he’s super famous in south korea bitch. we going worldwideee
Nesma Ahmed is raising funds to help her family evacuate from Gaza. Currently, Gaza has been… Mena K needs your support for Help Nesma and h
truly at a loss for words. nesma @nesmamomen has been fundraising on this website since fucking march and is so tantalizingly close to her goal yet shes only bringing in $5-$10 every couple of hours or so. please take this burden off her shoulders after she has already lost everything
thank you all for the support ,, nesma just messaged me worried that her blog will get terminated because some of her fundraising posts have been marked “mature”, perhaps due to zionists reporting her en masse or tumblr auto-flagging the photos that show injuries suffered by the children of gaza. please take note of who she is, at the very least, on the off chance tumblr decides to nuke her.
she just got $95 in the past two hours but other than that donations have been slow. yes, she’s vetted
I would be really grateful if you could help me by donating to save me and my family from the dangers of war and death in Gaza and escape to a safe place. 🇵🇸❤️
Donate even 20€ 🙏💔
Please share, repost or donate to my family 🙏
https://gofund.me/b60fb34d
i am so sorry for what you, your family and so many other people are going through, love.
anyone who sees this, please share and donate if you can so that we can help those who are in unfathomable situations and inhumane conditions, and get them to safety.
