welcome! after almost 2.5 years of reading bts fanfiction and almost 1.5 year of deciding to use this untouched side blog as a bts fanfic review blog (bc i hate being a silent reader), i think it’s time to do a list of the seokjin stories that i liked the most! don’t forget to show love to all the fanfic authors!!! thank you for providing us such incredible stories❣️
key: 💖 indicates my all time fav stories
SERIES
crystallised saga by @floralseokjin (complete, s, a, f, fuckbuddies2aquaintances2friends2lovers)💖
hideaway by @bonvoyagenoona (complete, s, a, f, childhood friends2lovers)💖
effleurer by @sugaurora (ongoing/on a hiatus, s, a, sex work!au, boss!jin, bdsm themes)💖
instatiable by @heartbeatan (complete, s, a, succubus!oc)💖
fire & desire by @joonbird (ongoing/on hiatus, s, a, fuckbuddies au)💖
my tiny secret by @personasintro (complete, s, a, f, mistress!au, unplanned pregnancy)
girls want love by @raplinesmoon (ongoing? idk im just enjoying the ride, s, f, a, sometimes ft.hobi)💖
satisfy by @suga-kookiemonster (ongoing, s, f, a, kim line series, sex work au)💖
the platonic collection by @joheunsaram (ongoing? idk im just enjoying the ride, s, f, a, bestfriends2lovers, bdsm themes, idiots2lovers)💖
by your side by @sodoyouknowbts (complete, s, f, a, roommates2lovers, idiots2lovers, ft.joon)
show me yours & i’ll show you mine by @ktheist (complete, s, f, a, bff’s big bro!jin)
blurred lines by @yoonia (complete, s, coworkers au)
off limits by @floralseokjin (complete, s, a, f, big bro’s bff!jin)
the devil wears armani by @floralseokjin (complete, s, a, f, devil!jin, human!reader)💖
of bears and bonds by @yoonia (complete, s, f, a, were-bear/bear shifter!jin, witch!reader, fated mates!au)💖
made-up love song by @floralseokjin (complete, s, f, a, dilf!jin, single dad! jin, teacher!reader)
9 months to fall in love by @floralseokjin (complete, s, f, a, unplanned pregnancy!au, strangers2lovers to put it simply)💖
refinery29 by @kpopfanfictrash (ongoing, s, f, established relationship)
feral by @ilikemesometaetaes (ongoing, s, vampire!jin ft. werewolf!tae)
whims & inconsistencies by @hisunshiine (complete, s, f, a, historial!au, pride & prejudice vibes)
the light of dead stars by @ahundredtimesover (complete, s, f, a, arranged marriage, fake romance, ft. ex!joon)
chip and dip by @demonhoseok (complete, s, f, fuckbuddies!au)
feeling nauti by @ohharrow (ongoing, eventual s)
the a-listers by @httpknjoon (complete, f, a if you squint bc we all felt ANGSTY at some point) and confidential (ongoing, f)💖
little do you know by @yoongiofmine (complete, s, f, a, idol!ot7 ft. reader, playmate!au)💖
acquainted by @xpeachesncream (complete, s, f, a, professor!jin, engaged!jin, ft. jin’s little step bro!jk)
paraluman by @muniimyg (complete, s, f, a, sm!au, ft.bff!jk)💖
into the rush by @minisugakoobies (s, f, a, bff’s bro!jin, dodgeball!au)
internal conflicts by @yoongiofmine (s, f, a, step siblings!au but they didn’t grow up together so it’s not weird)💖
ONESHOTS/DRABBLES
thank you, daddy by @ktheist (s, a, sugar daddy!seokjin, sugar baby!reader)💖
kairos and the follow up story, appetence by @luffles424 (two shot, s, a, f, a/b/o, alpha!seokjin, omega!reader)💖
warm this winter by @jamaisjoons (s, f, a, ft. ex bf/still bff jungkook, one night stand!seokjin)💖
all i don’t want for christmas is you! and the drabble by @minisugakoobies (s, a, coworkers, enemies2lovers)
aubade by @junghelioseok (s, f, one night stand, domestic vibes)💖
in the dead of night by @ot7always (s,f, friends2lovers, vampire!jin, human!reader)💖
sunglasses by @joheunsaram (pwp, dom!jin, brat!oc)
on the ropes by @raplinesmoon (s, f, a, ex boxer!jin, ft.jk) + the extra drabbles💖
arrogant by @dreamyjoons (pwp, enemies2lovers)
the end. by @jimlingss (a, f, prepare to CRY YOUR EYES OUT)💖
jealous by @hobisuniverse (pwp, idiots2lovers, friends2lovers)💖
god of mischief by @wwilloww (s, f, ancient god!jin, priestess!oc)
winter solace by @floralseokjin (s, f, a, friends2lovers, neighbours2lovers)
what he wants by @likeastarstar (pwp)💖
final sleigh and the drabbles by @floralseokjin (s, enemies2lovers, coworkers!au)💖
knotty or nice by @lavienjin (s, f, sugar daddy!jin)
once bitten, twice shy by @fantasybangtan (f, coworkers au, so much bickering)
salt + shadow by @floralseokjin (pwp, strangers2lovers, ft.incubus!tae)💖
view by @noteguk (pwp)💖
small tuna fish by @floralseokjin (s, friends2lovers)
launderette by @hamsterclaw (s, a, strangers2lovers)
call me papi by @jjksblackgf (pwp)💖
my type by @floralseokjin (s, f, virgin!jin)💖
copy room christmas by @feliix (s, workplace!au, boss!jin)💖
wet & wild by @jamaisjoons (pwp, friends2lovers)
glazed & dazed by @floralseokjin (pwp, pornstars!au)💖
sugar by @wwilloww (s, sugardaddy!jin)💖
wallflower by @heartbeatan (s, onenightstand!au)
ravished by two by @yoonia (pwp, a/b/o, ft.joon, fated mates!au)💖
opaline moon by @missgeniality (s, f, a, friends2lovers)
strings by @sugakookitty (pwp, s, f, dilf!seokjin, strangers2lovers)💖
kiss it better by @ppersonna (s, f, roommates2lovers)
last november by @kithtaehyung (s, a, exes2lovers)
messy by @minisugakoobies (s, enemies2lovers, bro’s bff!seokjin)💖
ghostin and pt.2 by @pradaksj (two shot, f, a, SO MUCH CRYING)💖
love, lust, and life mushrooms and following drabble by @miscelunaaa (s, f, a, established relationship)
pink lemonade by @jjksblackgf (f, implied s)
hit;record by @kithtaehyung (basically pwp, ft.yoongi)💖
winter whiskey by @kth1 (s, f, established relationship)
sin for you by @inkedtae (s, a, historical!au, priest!jin)
make you scream by @luxekook (s, monsters inc!au, monster!jin, human!reader)
fast lane by @yminie (s, f1racer!jin, pitcrew!reader, enemies2lovers)
switching positions by @lavienjin (s, a tiny bit of a, sex workers!au)
urgent matters by @aamalaaa (pwp, established relationship)
cool’n by @sugakookitty (pwp, sugar daddy!jin)
all wound up (harder) by @minisugakoobies (s, strangers2lovers, rockstar!au, ft.bandmate!jimin)💖
damelo dos, papi by @jjksblackgf (s, ft.hobi)
allez by @hamsterclaw (s, a, fencer!jin)
sunday by @here2bbtstrash (pwp, established relationship)
day 12 drabble by @minisugakoobies (f, s, established relationship)
count suckula by @dreamyjoons (s, f, friends2lovers)
all you’re giving me is friction by @hot-soop (s, f, a, lovers2enemies2lovers, surfer!jin, lifeguard!reader)
mood lighting by @sugalaritae (s, f, established relationship, dilf!jin)
knocked by @sailoryooons (s, roommates2lovers, streamer!jin)
just what i need by @sailoryoons (pwp, established relationship)
wallflower in bloom by @bluewhale52 (pwp, sugar daddy!jin)💖
christmas warfare by @gimmethatagustd (s, f, a, exes2lovers)
soarin’ by @aquagustd (s, f, a, established relationship, pregnant!reader)
shush by @mapofthesea (pwp, ft.tae, implied ot7 x reader)
roses by @taehyungsgrowl (s, f, established relationship)
cupid’s on holiday and picking peonies by @persephonesorchid (s, f, a, cupid!jin)
the one with seokjin and the marathon by @eoieopda (f, friends2lovers)
"life is a party that one day ends, and you were my unforgettable dance"
title: baile inolvidable (explicit)
pairing: ex!yoongi x reader
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; exes to lovers au
summary: there’s only one person that you’re better off never running into again. but when fate decides it’s time for you to face him, you prepare yourself for complete destruction. because he never told you what you wanted, and you never told him goodbye.
note: literally nothing redeeming to say i wrote this in two days all bc of a guy wearing a jersey lol barely edited so pls excuse any typos!
note 2: also tell me why i wrote all of this and then looked for a title, only to fucking weep when this song matched perfectly. anyway, here we go, first new fic in years! enjoy and i’m so sorry if it hurts a bit.
warnings: language, explicit scenes, an unforgettable dance, pining, angst but truly who is shocked anymore, men that give The Ick, exes, yoongi in that gd madrid jersey, chains (hi hello it’s me), hoseok also needs his own warning, tension, more angst, kissing as a warning, guilt, yearning, yoongi hands, the ending is worth it<3
disclaimer: all characters are my own and just happen to look like members of bts! purely a work of fiction. just had a lot of feelings.
mood: baile inolvidable - bad bunny ; qlona - karol g, peso pluma
explicit warnings: under the cut!
drop date: june 30th, 2026, 7pm est
word count: 13k have mercy!
explicit warnings: manhandling, public sex, rough sex, hair/head pulling, oral (m rec), choking, cowgirl, spitting, reverse cowgirl, unprotected sex, breast play, fucking an ex lol yes that’s a warning, multiple orgasms, the chains stay on, hella backshots, emotional sex, creampie OOP, club sex reader is bad, yoongi loses his gd mind, couch sex, wall sex, chair sex, umm yeah alexa play like animals thanks
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-
“What’s taking you so long!”
Groaning, you concentrate on getting your lashes just right. “Told you it’d be just a minute!”
“I know.” Hoseok pops into your hotel bathroom, deep neckline and even deeper scent of cologne almost making you jab yourself right in the socket. “But it’s been ten.”
It’ll end up being a lot longer than that if he keeps cocking that perfect brow. Shouldn’t he know the rule of getting ready already?
Done with your current task, you blink and inspect yourself in the wide mirror spanning the master bath. “Yeah, a minute means twenty. So I have ten to spare, right?”
Bright teeth shine as he shakes his head. And you know it’s because you’re both slated to be super early anyway.
Everything’s going according to schedule. All your old friends flew in yesterday, and the plan for today is to head to dinner to watch the night game with everyone. After that, you’ll walk straight to the club a few blocks down that you’ve heard to be the best in town.
Well. Best in town for absolute eye candy. Taehyung warned that everyone that’s been to Lo Prohibito knows the dress code is simple but effective: luxurious. Unless your face card is so lethal you get in on that alone, or you happen to have celebrity status.
And your confidence can only take you so far. You look fucking good, but you aren’t risking being turned away just because you were lax getting ready.
So ten more minutes it is. Hobi will just have to deal with it.
Goddamn, he could get in without a single issue, though. Honestly, he could be wearing a linen shirt and shorts with sandals and they’d mistake him for a millionaire. “I’ll be ready before you know it,” you say over your bare, perfumed shoulder. “You’ll be able to see your lover soon enough.”
Hoseok shoots you a grin before huffing out, “Got me, huh.”
“You’re the easiest person in the world to read.” Leaning over your makeup bag, you rummage through your brushes. “Whatever you’re thinking is always written all over your face."
Quick laughter coats the bathroom in more light. “I can’t help it, okay! It’s always been that way.” When you focus in the mirror and pat your face, he suddenly drops two pitches in tone. “Sorry about yours.”
Here you go again. You know exactly what he’s talking about.
“Hobi,” you sigh. “I don’t care anymore, okay? It’s been a month.”
“I know, but…” Expelling a heavy, sympathetic breath of his own, he leans against the double door entryway. That dulcet yet gravelly tone of his rolls across marble floors as he says exactly what you don’t want him to, “You seemed pretty happy with them.”
You were. In fact, you were more than happy.
But something just didn’t feel right. Sure, the days you spent with your most recent fling were perfect. You felt comfortable with them, you admired how thoughtful they were and how attentive.
It was the nights that made you more than hesitant.
Because no matter how many times you slept together, you never felt truly understood. What you wanted, what you needed? They would get so close to getting it right, only to never reach that level of intensity and passion you were looking for.
So you broke it off one quiet, cherry-red sunset on the beach weeks ago.
Only to find out that they were seeing someone else the whole time anyway.
Fuck love. To hell with happiness. Why do all your relationships end up this way? Why do you always attract the people that seem perfect on the surface but hide so many flaws underneath? It’s starting to fucking annoy you and you may damn well swear to the single life forever.
Though. There was one relationship that didn’t exactly end this way.
But you’re never thinking about that one again, so no point in shuffling through those beautiful, tragic, regretful memories now.
“And now I’m happy without them,” you finally respond to Hoseok, who tears his gaze from the white floors to see you staring in the mirror. “Probably happy without anyone else, actually.”
What a fucking lie.
“I mean, there’s time to find someone you...” Your friend pockets a hand while adjusting his loose top, shadows naturally accenting his abdomen. “Never mind. See you out there. Love the red.”
You swish the silken floor-length material of your gaudy, quite revealing dress. “Thank you. This is my favorite part, look.”
Hoseok watches as you stomp your leg out of the thigh-high slit so comically it catches him off guard, cackling before a lighthearted, “Careful with that!”
“Says the man who’s practically naked.”
All you get is a shameless shrug before your friend spins on this heel to leave, no doubt checking the texts on his phone.
At least he's excited about seeing his gorgeous pull after so long. And you do not blame him one bit. The way he looks at her? She may as well be a goddess because his gaze turns almost reverent every time.
A blurry memory consumes your mind like a haze, and you see completely different eyes with just as much fervor. They watch as you mount slow, chests slick with sweat and breathing deep from hours of—
Manicured hands grip the sink as your brush skitters onto granite counters.
Fuck. Never again.
Never, ever, ever again.
Pull yourself together. You’re a whole different person with a whole different future. That version of you is one you left far behind, as well as the life that came with it.
You extend ten minutes into fifteen.
And Hoseok’s outright whistle at your emergence lets you know the extra time was worth it.
—
—
Dinner is loud and vibrant, with the whole restaurant locked in on the game and erupting in cheers when the home team scores. Or at least, the team that the majority of fans want to win scores.
You aren’t completely sure, because there are jerseys of every country everywhere you look. It’s the one time you feel a sense of togetherness, with everyone giving each other friendly jabs and your group doing and saying anything to rile each other up.
Hoseok is downright lethal with his date, the two of them showing off jawlines that can kill as they watch the nearest screen. But they’re on the other end of the long wooden table, so you have to find other people to converse with.
Unfortunately, you find that the person sitting in front of you is a stranger, seemingly knowing someone else in the group and just happened to tag along. He quickly offered small talk when you all started ordering, which you already found a little awkward because you were trying to focus on what to get.
Now, he keeps giving you more and more information about his achievements and endeavors, not once asking for your name. Figures.
Both the friends you’re sitting next to are no help, either.
To your left, Jeongguk’s checking his phone for the fiftieth time this hour, scrolling through videos to avoid having to speak to anyone.
And to your right, Taehyung cheers and stands when another goal is scored, locking elbows with the stranger behind him and drinking from his glass mug. Apparently he had been making fast friends while you were entertaining the guy that keeps staring at you. How cool. Happy for him. Can you both switch seats?
Your wish doesn’t get granted for another hour. So that means you’re still talking to and giving polite encouragement to this gentleman. Though the term gentleman is very, very generous. It became more than obvious he just wants to fuck from the way he's been shamelessly ogling your plunging neckline.
Mercifully, Jeongguk finally saves you, leaning in and pretending to show you a reel or tiktok or whatever the fuck he’s scrolling through. Instead, a text he typed into your message thread is all you see.
Wanna go outside?
Going along and laughing at his fake share, you give him a grateful smile and nod. Turning to the man watching you with curiosity—and is that really jealousy?—you excuse yourself,
“We’re gonna check out the second floor! Be right back.”
Not even waiting to see nor hear his reaction.
—
—
Outside the restaurant and not on the second floor, you can finally breathe again, watching the city come alive with its vehicle rush and streetlight hum.
Next to you, your tattooed savior takes a long hit of his vape, and you run a hand across the thin gold chain around your neck.
Without your permission, another memory slips through your defenses. And this one proves sharper, astonishingly clearer than the first.
Hands grab a string of gold from a nightstand, and you instantly ache because you remember what comes right after. As soon as it’s clipped onto a slim neck, you watch the necklace lower, and lower, right before you angle your mouth up to take it between your—
“Fuck.”
Jeongguk whips his head right as your eyes snap open. “You okay? What’s wrong?”
No. There are a thousand things wrong. You didn’t even fucking realize your vision went dark until light flooded out your unwanted nostalgia.
Fuck, you hadn’t thought of that summer afternoon in years. Your reaction was visceral enough to spurn an oncoming headache. “Nothing,” you whoosh out. “What time is it?”
“Almost time to head over to Lo Prohibido.” Gripping his phone, the man asks with concern, “You sure you’re good to go?”
Head pulsing, you nod. “Yeah, I’m fine, just dehydrated. Can you pick a city that won't try to burn me out next time? I'm down for traveling but it's been hell here.”
Unconvinced and unfazed, Jeongguk cocks his head to the door. “Let’s go back in. I know your favorite person is waiting, but you gotta drink water.”
“Don’t,” you groan. “He’s cute, but I got the biggest ick like halfway in.”
Your amused friend giggles as he holds the door open, “You lasted a lot longer than I thought you would.”
Laughing when more cheers erupt from inside, you give his jacketed arm a playful shove as you look down the street. “I’m nice, okay? Don’t—”
Your heart.
It booms.
In an instant, the whole world blurs, lights and bodies making solid, serpentine lines and even sound itself rolling to a deep, dull hum.
The only one you can see. The only person you can make out with perfect clarity.
Is the one you’ve been trying your fucking hardest to not remember.
Staring right at you with eyes you’ll never, ever forget.
Yoongi.
He’s just down the way, standing amongst a group with a striped jersey, dark hair swept so perfectly your chest pangs. Even though everyone around him is animated and laughing, the look on his face makes it undeniable he’s not focused on anything else.
And with a stopped heart, neither are you.
Until your lower back is held, tugging you out of the dream as Jeongguk’s question is laden with worry,
“Seriously, what’s going on? Do you need to go back to the hotel?”
You jolt away from his touch, but the action isn’t warranted. For fuck’s sake, he’s a friend you’ve known just as long as you've known the spectre down the street. Why did you feel the need to escape his worrisome hand? He isn't like the guy you just met.
If that dude had been the one to touch you, though, you would’ve fucking decked him. You are not letting him feel an inch of your skin, and that includes the majority of it you’re baring at the back.
“No, I’m—I’m fine,” you manage to get out. “Just thought I saw.. Never mind. Water.”
Yoongi would’ve damn near murdered that creep, too.
Shit.
Right before stepping back in, you turn to peer back down the sidewalk, brain concluding that what you saw was your imagination and your heart adamantly disagreeing.
However, there’s no sign of Yoongi anywhere. That same group of people continues to chitter away outside, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
So your logic is sound. It was just a dream. There’s no way he’d be here, and he looked way too fucking handsome to be real anyway. Maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you as an act of revenge for making it remember him this much today.
Because you’re remembering everything. The way he knew exactly how to get under your skin. The times he proved so patient. The way he absolutely knew how to act under your sheets.
And his. And elsewhere. Anywhere the two of you decided to make love.
And that singular word is exactly why your flame burned its brightest before choking out.
You were ready.
He wasn’t.
And you regret your decision to leave more than anything else in your entire life.
Because you could’ve fought harder. You could’ve given him more time. But when you confessed under a blanket of stars and didn’t hear those three words reciprocated, every single celestial plummeted from the sky, plunging you headfirst into a deep, dark ocean of insecurity and bubbling self-loathing.
The night you left, you left everything. You left your room, your apartment, the city you called home your entire life. Like a coward that couldn’t face rejection.
Because you didn’t even tell Yoongi goodbye.
And that’s the last damning reminder you hurl at yourself before rejoining your friends inside.
—
—
You readily down two glasses of water.
Inwardly laughing at the fact that the same dude straight up left to “meet up with his brochachos.”
—
—
Lo Prohibito is decibels louder than the restaurant, and that includes the moments everyone cheered to the max.
A dazzling laser show beams from behind the raised DJ booth, and machines shoot out air to provide much needed circulation and boost the spread of confetti.
To your delight, everyone here is just as pretty as you imagined. You’re thanking all your lucky clovers that you were accepted inside, strutting in on your heels with chin held high.
Maybe not as high as it could go.
But you refuse to let anything else bring you down tonight. You’re supposed to be having another great outing, spending it with your friends and enjoying the nightlife while you’re still able.
Bright colors span across every surface as a thumping bass shakes your toes, and you wait for the rest of your group to trickle in to find a good dancing spot—and a much needed drink because you are desperate for one.
At this point, you’ll pay any price to forget whatever the fuck you saw earlier.
Be it a figment of your imagination, or a devilishly attractive ghost, you just need to wipe that achingly handsome face from your mind.
There’s no way he’s here. And even if who you saw was real? It wasn’t the man you loved.
Because there’s no way Yoongi would even look your way again.
Not like you want him to anyway. Forget him. He gave you everything except the one thing you ultimately wanted, and you couldn’t live in his moonlight without your stars slowly burning out.
Breathe. Focus on the present. Stay in the now.
“Come on,” he instructs, holding your fingers before grabbing your waist. “Stay with me.”
“Sorry,” you whisper to your stumbling feet. “I just keep messing up that damn step and it’s annoying.”
“I know.” He grips your hand, turning so that you land against his chest, comforting tone soothing your burning ear, “But you got a lot more chances to get it. We got time. Stay in the now.”
“Okay.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Come on!”
Your past whisks away with the club fog, and you follow Hoseok and the rest off the crowded floor. “Where are we going!”
Hand on the nearest winding staircase, he turns with a smile. “Got us VIP! We’re up here.”
“No fucking way?” How the hell did Hobi manage to do that? Wasn’t this place booked up the last time you both checked yesterday? “How!”
Cheekily, the man simply plucks at his undone overshirt and wiggles, smirking as his date doubles over in a laugh.
“Oh, you’re a freak,” you call out behind him with praise. “Thank you for your service.”
Thank Jung Hoseok and those abs indeed because the VIP booth is a godsend. Sure, it’s still crowded on the second floor, but at least you don’t have to worry about standing shoulder to shoulder the whole night. You have somewhere to retreat to when you need a breather.
Which Jeongguk is already taking the most advantage of, settling into the middle of the booth and planting elbows on the long table stretching end to end. Music blares while people shout all throughout the club, but he seems quite zeroed in on his phone.
Maybe you can both use each other as a scapegoat again if you need to leave. He’s been enjoying himself for the most part, but you can tell he’s extremely ready to go home and the night just started. If you weren’t desperate to let loose and forget years of your life tonight, you would’ve offered to get shitty fast food with him and walk around the city instead.
Mm. That still sounds like a backup option.
“Who wants drinks!” Taehyung calls out from the far end of the booth, standing to wave someone down and glancing at everyone giving him their orders all at once. “Let’s just get bottles!”
Perfect. He knows exactly what to do, so you let him drive and settle into the booth to wait for the liquid ailment to your problems.
This club has it all, you muse as you take everything in. From endless bottles and extravagant cocktails sailing over the crowd, to sparkler shows and pops of streamers raining down from above, it’s a paradise of a getaway.
But the outfits? To your surprise, you feel slightly out of place, even arguably overdressed wearing the most expensive thing you own. Yes, there are loads of tens walking around, even some elevens and twelves if you’re honest. But you do see quite a few people in outfits as casual as Jeongguk’s leather.
Either way, almost everyone is dripped in the most lavish jewelry and clothing, from designer to exclusive to wait someone got in wearing a jersey?
How the hell? Despite the outfits you saw there hasn’t been anyone in here with a jersey, is he famous? It's the same one you saw on the sidewalk when you—
Fuck. That’s not him, is it? You can’t quite see his face, but that back is so…
No. No no no. You’re staying here for awhile so that better have been another mind trick or you're taking that backup plan with Jeongguk immediately—
“Here,” Taehyung catches your attention while hastily holding out a glass. “This is what you wanted, right?”
You take it with shaky fingers. “Yes, it’s perfect, thank you.”
When you turn back, the red and white stripes are gone.
And you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.
“You okay?”
Turning, you notice that Tae’s eyes are extremely focused on yours. You nod as you down your shot in one go. “Yeah, I’m good.”
His honey rasp slows on the way out, “You sure..?”
“Yeah.” When you push more of the stinging, sweet alcohol down, you decide to start telling him what you saw. “I just… I thought I saw…”
Taehyung is one of the only ones that never questioned why you left town. Which you’re grateful for, because you couldn’t handle all your other friends sending you text after text after call. It was fucking overwhelming, but you had one person that just allowed you to make decisions and live with them.
“Saw who?” He asks, cutting through your vision with long fingers in a wave and calling you back to reality.
“No one.” You don’t even wanna say his name. It carries the weight of the world. “Forget it! I’ll be good as soon as we start.”
Unconvinced but letting you have space, Tae doesn’t pry.
“If you say so.”
—
—
For the next hour, everything is great. You play stupid drinking games with your friends, cheer for the most random shit the house emcee yells, and you start to slowly wash the unwanted memories from your mind.
At one point, Jeongguk stuns the section by dancing on booth cushions and swinging his jacket, revealing he only had a thin tank underneath. Many people stare slackjawed at his physique and understated choice of outfit, but you can only cackle with your friends because you all know he’s gonna go right back to his phone in seconds. He just really, really likes the song playing.
And you’re enjoying the DJ set, too. As long as they don’t play specific songs, you can enjoy the rest of the night in absolute peace.
Especially the one song that haunts your every waking moment. The first time you heard it, in a club somewhere along pink lemonade sand, you trudged knee deep into the crashing tide and didn’t leave until the sun dipped under the horizon.
Because it hit too close to home. And your deluge of tears gave back infinite saltwater to the sea.
Relax. Don’t throw any possibilities into the atmosphere, especially when your mind is fucked up tonight. Your friends are heading down to the dance floor, so go with them and forget everyone else.
Making sure your drink is finished, you feel ice hit your lips before clinking it down, rushing to join your group at the top of the staircase.
Only to stutter so close to the edge your heart leaps out of your chest.
It keeps falling, and falling. Because there’s no mistaking this time. That man you saw wearing the outfit that’s starting to haunt you? He’s talking animatedly to someone across the second floor, dusty pink elbow perched on the railing with a drink in his still so veiny hand.
And your mouth turns sour at the way his shoulder is tapped by pretty nails, tongue hot and darkly spiced when Yoongi just laughs into his cup.
God. He’s here. He’s devastating without even trying.
And, as your blasphemous logic reminds you, that beautiful smile will never be yours anymore.
But that doesn’t stop you from staring. Because while on the street, you could’ve argued he was a hallucination birthed from dehydration. Right here, in this moment, you’ve sobered up in a snap and you know for a fact what you’re seeing is real.
Maybe it was better when you assumed he wasn’t.
At least then, you didn’t have to entertain any worse outcomes than just seeing him. You didn’t have to think about how you’d feel seeing him so close to someone else.
Looks like the universe is giving you the final consequences of your escape. Yoongi has your fate in the warm, rough palm of his hand, and you know he’ll do nothing but let it fall to the rumbling floor below. Just to watch with unblinking eyes.
“Hey, you gonna go down or what?”
Turning, you start to move to the side, embarrassment heating the skin of your back that was just lightly grazed, “Shit, sorry—”
A strong arm pushes you sideways into hard metal as a duo of guys head down the stairs. You figure it’s an accident, but that doesn’t stop your face from contorting in pain and a curse to fling from your mouth. Because damn that fucking hurt.
“Dude, watch it!” The one behind looks back at you to apologize, “Sorry about my—”
Oh… Really…
The guy from dinner halts in his apology, and your brow lifts right before he waves you off.
Waves you off.
At least your intuition is always spot on. Good riddance, you were completely valid to ditch his brochacho ass earlier.
Rolling your eyes skyward and even aiming a petulant tongue at his retreating back, you scoff before leaning on chilled metal, letting a moment pass before heading down to Taehyung and the rest of them.
Where are they anyway? If you don’t spot them from here it’s gonna be hard to find them on the.. ground..
Your heart looks up before you do.
And you catch your ex watching intently from across the way, phone sliding from his ear before he straightens to start walking.
…Towards you?
Fuck.
It’s been bad enough catching glimpses of Yoongi and seeing him entertain someone else. If he gets one foot right in front of you? Everything you’ve worked so hard to build up against him and the haunting memories of your relationship will collapse into dust. You can’t bear him seeing how you haven’t changed your fucking mind.
To your utmost pain, all roads have always led back to him. No matter how deep you relate to or click with someone, no matter how happy another person makes you, no one has come close to how Yoongi made you feel.
Because he’s the only one that understood even the darkest parts of you. And he’s the only light in your life you ran away from.
There’s a reason you watch every sunset. There’s a reason you stand on the beach back home and don’t move your sandswept legs until the last rays give way to the ocean line.
It’s because of the guilt. The guilt of turning away from the warmth you held in your hands and the warmth you left behind.
Your eyes stay tethered as your ex makes his way down the long side of the upstairs balcony, partiers smushing together and bottles roving over his head as ladies take them to VIP tables.
Based on the heat in his eyes? Yoongi’s on the universe’s side. There’s no way he’s seeking anything else other than revenge.
Shit, shit shit. This isn’t good for you. Literally nothing great nor healthy can come out of this if he ends up in your orbit. One word, two words, and even worse, three words from those unforgettable lips would destroy you and never let you recover.
But your hands stay tight on the warming railing. And they won’t fucking let go.
Downstairs. Go down the stairs. Go.
Yoongi’s almost here. All he has to do is round the corner. He's close enough for you to notice the silver chains adorning his neck.
And the last thing you think with a withering heart is how devastatingly handsome he’s become.
With a tight breath, you pelt high heels downward one hasty step at a time. Winding, winding, spiraling like the thoughts storming your mind. The further down you go, the farther away he is.
Your heel catches on your dress before you stumble, but you don’t look back to see if Yoongi’s even still behind you.
Chill the fuck out and don’t fucking trip. You already had nasty falls before with scars to prove it and a sticky club floor is the worst place to sprawl onto.
Keep going. Disappear into the crowd. Go find your friends.
And deal with the unmoving, gaping hole in your chest later.
—
—
It takes you awhile to find them, but soon enough, you're back to having the time of your life. The lineup of DJs is all stellar, with only a few misses here and there, even getting Jeongguk to stay on the dance floor longer than you expect.
What's even better? There's no sign of Yoongi. Surrounded by sweaty bodies and flashy grins, you don't catch a single glimpse of him in the crowd.
Good. That's good, right? You wanted this. You wanted to avoid him and run, just like you did the last time.
Your group starts to split up in the commotion of lights and confetti and streamers, but you're fine dancing on your own. With each ebb and flow of music, you lose yourself, letting your heart get swept away by stories of love and loss. Every song holds a piece you understand. Every verse carries the same message.
You aren't alone in being alone.
So embrace it. Let the hurt come later. Smiling wide, you await the next song up, arms thrown in the air with everyone in beautiful togetherness around you.
Then it starts.
The one song you knew you'd hear at some point but sure as fuck didn’t want to.
While people around roar at the familiar opening, you feel like disappearing entirely. Where’s the nearest coastline? You need a rising tide.
As the melancholic notes buzz up your chest, you slowly, quietly, lower both arms to your sides. Around you, the floor moves in sensuous circles and dips, and you envy everyone for not feeling how you feel. This glowing, searing pain setting your chest ablaze until it’s nothing but a pile of cinders, only to be washed away with the waves crashing against your knees.
With each scathing line, your heart cries, remembering exactly why it hit too deep. All those lessons you took that started on a whim. All those sunny afternoons practicing and stumbling about your living room. All those times you were held close and knew there’d be no one else.
Your heart isn't strong enough to stay in the now. It doesn’t want to. It will always remain in the past, on a rooftop gazing into a sea of stars and hoping for a different outcome.
Night, after night, after night.
Suddenly, you’re back in the past, too.
Because a hand, so sure and so steady, settles onto your hip from behind, and your eyes burn when another slides along your bare shoulder. Heat from a body you can sense from anywhere in the fucking universe warms the skin at your back, and you shake as lips touch the shell of your ear to whisper three words that shatter what’s left of your soul,
“One last time.”
You aren't in the past. You're here. And so is he.
Breath whooshing out in a hitch, your throat is in absolute flames as your eyes slide shut. Then you nod, because you can’t think of doing anything else, and you allow him to lead.
And he feels so perfect against you it hurts.
You feel how strong he’s gotten, how sturdy and lean. And yet, you also feel the same soft give you used to feel all those years ago. You know how pliant he could become under your mercy, just like all those times he gave you complete control. If you faced him, you could run your hands along that stomach you’ve kissed every inch of a thousand times over.
But you’re too much of a pathetic coward to turn around.
When you back into him, his quick hiss into that groan you miss so fucking much flips every warning light in your body. But you can’t help it. You know this dance, this connection, this reunion will be the last you will ever have.
He never loved you. You never said goodbye.
Everything that’s left unsaid swirls around you as you move in perfect sync, both your hips moving as one and your hand snaking up and back to grip his neck fuck he feels just like home.
Yoongi… Still feels like home.
A single, hot tear leaks from your eye as you sway, burning a path down your cheek as your other hand closes tight around fingers holding your side. When he grips you even tighter, another tear betrays you, and you feel his lips so close to your neck you expect him to kiss there if he wanted to.
But he doesn’t.
Of course he doesn’t.
So you take what you’re given. A dance. Just one. One last unforgettable dance before your life changes all over again.
Knowing this song by heart, you know it’s approaching the end. The bittersweet last chorus clues you in, and you tense around his neck just a little tighter, hoping Yoongi didn’t catch the need in your fingers for this moment to never end.
Mother Earth can swallow you whole as soon as the last word is sung. You give her your express permission.
Because you feel so hopelessly in love all over again, and you can’t bear your affection to be unreciprocated a second time.
Just like that. Against your deepest, sincerest wishes.
The song dies.
And immediately after, as if your world hasn’t just been upheaved and tossed to the wayside, the next number booms. Everyone on the dance floor cheers again when it’s extremely familiar and a faster tempo. Even more people fill the floor because they need to feel this one in their bones.
And you need nothing else but to leave.
Get out. Go. Yoongi said so, right? One last time. It’s over. This tension between you needed an outlet and that song was the one out you both could use to set it free.
And it’s done. So you start your brisk walk away.
Only for your wrist to be held and your heart to fall out of your ribcage.
Fuck.
When you turn, you forget you’re tear-streaked and full of painful regrets.
And the look on Yoongi’s face heats your soul all the way through.
Because his eyes are unwavering, brows cut deep and mouth completely shut. Over his forehead, tendrils of mussed bangs sweep slow, and his chest rises and falls with every hard, wordless breath he takes.
And you finally get the courage to whisper his name.
Without a word, he slowly pulls you in, not stopping until your hands softly push into his strong chest and your face is inches from his. All heavy bass and bright beats of music fall away. All lights shift until you can only see him.
Time. All that time apart vanishes when you finally feel this close again, his steady expression watching you with an emotion you can’t place but feel ripping at your walls to destroy them.
What is happening? What’s he doing?
Does he know he has the power to hurt you in ten million different ways?
Fingers rise to wipe the sadness from your face, only inviting more to pour from your eyes. “Yoongi,” you whisper again, breaking the dam you’ve been building block by block this whole time, just like you were afraid of. And you can’t fucking stop. “Yoongi…”
Then, when his eyes slide shut, you think he’ll let you go. Why can you only say his name? Why the fuck are you ruining this singular moment that you’ve only dreamed of having wait wait why is he resting his forehead against yours fuck wait—
“You know how long,” he breathes out, “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that again.”
Have mercy.
Your soul finally snaps in two.
You can only say it once more, broken and chipped, before Yoongi grips your jaw and kisses you like it’s his last minute on earth.
And you push back with a ferocity that’s been dormant for years, a magnificent flame never awakened by anyone else. Nothing else. Just him. Only him.
Rivers stream from your eyes as his arms circle you, hands gripping the skin of your back as your nails rake down his. Around you, people dance and bump into your bodies, but neither of you seem to fucking care. No one else exists. The only music you hear is every deep breath Yoongi takes and it’s your favorite, favorite, favorite.
You shouldn’t be doing this. There’s no possible way this doesn’t leave you without a broken heart and a shell of whatever intact spirit you have left.
But goddamn if you don’t stay in the now more than ever.
“I don’t give a shit,” you tumble into his mouth, waiting until he pulls away enough for you to spill every forbidden thought you’ve harbored in your beating chest. “I don’t care if you never loved me. I don’t care if you moved on. I just—just tonight, Yoongi, I need you—”
Your plea is engulfed by another soulshaking push of his lips, and you think that’s the end of it until he tugs away from you before swerving his head around the floor.
“Come here,” he orders, gripping your hand and reminding you just how perfect his fingers slot with yours.
Time. You’re getting more time? Your tears and the burning in your chest don’t quell as you’re led through the crowd. When you get strange or pitied looks, you don’t care. All these perfectly dressed people can fuck off.
When they stare at the man guiding you, that’s what gets your stomach flaring. They can have him. Just after you get one last time to carry you through the rest of your loveless life.
Yoongi suddenly turns to look at you trailing behind, and he waits to bring you in front of his side, now leading you both together through the rest of the packed floor.
Ah. This is the man you remember.
And that just makes everything hurt even more.
Soon, you’re led off the dance floor and through a series of turns, Yoongi heading up a long back staircase before rounding into a hallway of doors before he checks each one.
What are these? Karaoke rooms? Party rooms? You don’t know, but the ache in your body hunches you over, and it takes everything to not crumble before he finally stops and yanks open a door.
“Yoongi, what are you—?”
A dim, neon-lit room is what you come to, and you hear a faint click while noticing the long window looking out into the club below. Different lounge chairs and couches fill the space, and you can see just enough out the glass to know you’re even high above the VIP tables. The room feels exclusive but you don’t get to observe anything else as you’re being pushed into the nearest wall to be liplocked again.
Fuck, he’s gotten even better at this.
Just like you have.
As your dress is gripped tight, your thoughts all blur together in a lustful slurry. How many has he taken to bed after you? Do you remember your own count? Has anyone else made him feel like you do? With a searing green flare, you remember that no one has come close to him. How awfully one-sided would that be if he found someone that completed him.
A veiny hand grips the side of your neck before sliding to your head. “Fuck,” Yoongi grits out. “I… I can’t.”
...What?
No. No no no.
Your heart begins its fast descent. Because if Yoongi doesn’t want this, you have to respect that. As much as you will scream into the night, you’re not gonna stop him if he gets up and leaves.
Because you did. So why shouldn’t he get that same chance to destroy you?
“I get it,” you hitch out, holding his strong wrist with shaky fingers. It’s only fair. This felt too good to be true anyway. “I know.”
“It’s not that.” Yoongi slides his free hand on the wall, holding it at your shoulder. “I just… Fuck, if we do this, I can’t promise I’ll hold back.”
Oh. Fuck that.
You tug the warm silver around his neck. “Then don’t,” you urge to his grunt. “If this is all we get? I don’t fucking care.”
“Even if I t—”
“Do it, Yoongi,” you plead with a gritted cry. “You can do anything to me, whatever it is just do it.”
“Fuck.”
All doubt flees from his eyes as your back gets smushed into the wall, your lips puffed and parting when he places hot, open mouthed kisses down your column.
Hands keep their quest in gathering up your dress. And you make quick work of his belt before pulling, tugging, yanking it out of its holster.
“The fuck,” he shoots out. “Who the fuck taught you that?”
Your eyes flicker to his as you grip the hem of his jeans. “You really wanna know?”
“No.” He switches up on a dime. “Don’t tell me.”
Your lips collide again before he rips his mouth down to attack your chest, nipping at a spot that has you flinching and hand sliding between your legs. When he runs a finger along your underwear, his eyes practically burn out as he growls, “You’re this fucking wet already?”
“I told you,” you gasp out. “I need you.”
Your hand is yanked to the front of his jeans, and shock and emotion completely cover the expanse of your face feeling how unbelievably hard he is.
Unfazed, Yoongi continues kissing up to your shoulder, leaving hot saliva trails all over your skin and bunching your silk in his hands. “Seeing you in this? Lost my shit.”
“You're lying.”
“All fuckin' night."
“Liar.”
Liar, liar. A bold faced lie. You saw him talking to other people. You saw his anger piercing across the club. But you watch as his look levels, and your cheeks sizzle at the way he shifts his jaw,
“I’d never lie to you.”
Shit. Your heart bats eyelashes before you shove it out of frame.
The organ in your chest is a walking liability, especially when it’s connected to your mouth. So there are many, many things you might reveal tonight in the throes of agony and passion. Things you will regret come morning waking to an empty bed.
The best way to not say anything that could potentially do more harm than good? Keep your lips occupied. And that’s exactly what you intend to do.
“We’ll see,” you grit out, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. When Yoongi lets you twist to shove him back against the wall, his eyes flare in dark need when he hisses,
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
To show him how you’ve grown in the years you separated, to show him what he could’ve fucking had.
To show him that you aren’t taking a single bit of this last, serendipitous night for granted.
Kneeling slow, you slide your hands along his clothed chest, kissing his chains exactly how you used to and smearing lipstick all the way down his jersey.
“Fuck…”
Balancing on your heels, you wince at the tight bend in your knees, but you aren’t going down completely because your kneecaps aren’t what they used to be. Fuck that. You can do plenty in a low squat anyway, and he’s seen you look a hell of a lot more awkward many times. “Shit,” you still whisper. “You’re lucky I can’t wait to swallow you.”
A curse flings out of his mouth. “Get up, babe.”
Heart ringing at the name, you reject his order with a harsh, “Shut up.”
You want this, and you know for a fact he does, too. When Yoongi tries to bend, you pull down his underwear, springing his cock free and almost salivating at the sight.
Just like you remember. Everything about him is just how you remember, and yet his body has only gotten stronger and filled out in all the perfect places. Yoongi’s a man now. A real, grown man.
If you both just met tonight, you know he would’ve asked for your name before anything else.
Cut the shit. You are not getting into that now, not when you have him with hands trembling against a wall before you take him in your palm. As soon as you touch, Yoongi expels a deep groan, kicking his head back and gripping the wall with a large hand.
What’s going on? You haven’t even done anything yet. Why does your chest constrict at how sensitive he is? This isn’t the time to relax, but you really can’t help but soften at his complete and utter unravelling.
It’s almost as if nothing’s changed.
Yoongi lowers his gaze, and you lock glistening eyes before you take him in your mouth, slow on the tip and swirling to get it coated and prepped just right. Your hand expertly glides along his solid, slick length, squeezing at the spot you know makes him fold.
“Holy fuck,” he gasps out, hand hesitating to palm your head before balling in a fist against plaster. “Shit, babe..”
Again? Does he even realize what he’s saying? Is he trying to hurt you because if that’s his goal it’s fucking working.
Anger, regret, painful nostalgia drives you forward, sinking his velvety ridges inside your throat and proving to him how much better you’ve gotten. With every plunge, you hollow your cheeks, already feeling the telltale searing at your eyes and spiraling up your throat. His endless stream of sounds and praise tumble down your skin, and you keep sucking mercilessly even when his hips buck and his eyes squeeze tight.
Releasing with a loud pop, you feel a huge strain on your soaked legs as you adjust, tilting your drenched chin to bury your face in his sack to lick and take it in.
“Baby..”
At this new, old nickname, you grip his cock tighter, swallowing him whole again just to hide your real tears behind the ones streaming from taking him in so deep.
More. You give more, and more, and more. Time will take away everything else so what you can give is all you got.
Hands grip your head in desperation, and you let Yoongi push you onto his length until your airway is closed tight, nose and cheeks flush against the skin of his thighs. His scent is heady and just like you remember, if only slightly different due to the new musky cologne he’s probably sticking with nowadays. Not like you can focus on it too long because your airway is screaming to be freed again.
Tears leak over your lashes as want slicks your cunt, and you hear syllables that could be words before you finally give his legs a telltale tap.
Oxygen floods your lungs as more tears stream from your eyes, lips sopping wet and saliva leaving your chin in strings. Gulping, you go right back to it, taking him in again and pumping his slick ridges quick.
“Get up,” he commands with a rasp so deep it rumbles your chest. “Get the fuck up.”
You’re pulled upward so fast your legs cry at the bends, and you’re spun so quick the wall hits your shoulderblade and you cry out into a furious mouth.
Pleasure and pain intertwine as you match his intensity, raking at his shoulders and clawing into his hair. With each kiss, he reaches deeper into your throat, and you know he can taste himself on your tongue with the way he claims it in waves.
For a moment, there’s no one else in the world. You aren’t in a dimly lit lounge in a club away from home. You’re right here in his bedroom, getting slung and dragged along his wall and knocking every one of his plaques and posters off-kilter.
“Yoongi, I—”
“I know.”
Without further prompt, Yoongi wrenches at your dress to shove it up to your hip, burning a path along your leg with expert fingers. As you hook itover his smooth forearm, your lips part when his other hand slides between your thighs.
You know your underwear is soaked all the way through.
And now, so does he. “Goddamn.”
“I can’t take it anymore,” you gasp out. “Just—”
“Are you still on the—”
“Yes.”
Shifting the sodden material to the side, Yoongi wastes no time, angling himself to rub over your folds and moaning in tandem with you because holy fuck this already feels so—
“This fucking pussy,” Yoongi grits out, sliding in perfectly and so smoothly it’s like neither of you ever left each other's sides. Your high moan cuts into the cherry ceiling when he sounds like he’s just struck gold, “Shit, you’re gonna be the death of me.”
“Yoongi, please—”
He’s talking absolute nonsense. Gonna be? How is that possible when you won’t see him again?
All questions vaporize when Yoongi’s hips snap up, launching you up the wall again, and again, and again. Pops of need and lust zoom straight to your head, sparkling out of your eyes when you feel his lips smothering your neck.
You’re in heaven. You’re in hell. It feels so good it hurts. Caught in a flurry of need and anguish, your nails rake down his shoulders before scratching at his arms, shivering at his outright growl,
“Don’t do that.”
“Oh, I—”
“Do that shit again and I’ll come.”
Shit. You don’t understand how he could be so shameless. You’re trying your hardest to keep it together and here he is saying whatever the fuck he wants? If you let your mouth just as loose as he has there’s no telling what you’d be shouting out.
But you settle for an apology for now, just in case you actually hurt him, “Sorry.. My nails are super long right now.”
“I noticed.” Another thrust launches you into the sky. “They look good but they hurt like hell.”
“Oh.. Sorry again.” A moan escapes when he shoves into you, mind hazy because he’s still placating you.
“I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.” Devilish, he breaks into a slow smirk you haven’t seen in ages, and your ribcage folds inward and inward. “I’m just not fucking done with you yet.”
Oh. He doesn’t want this to end, either.
Now that changes every fucking cog in your brain.
You keep yourself upright as long as you can, arms slung around his neck as you both move together, dip and lean together, breathe so hard it scorches your chest together. Every muscle in your planted leg burns, but it’s nothing compared to the stare you have connected to his eyes. With each deep thrust, his brows furrow and his teeth peek from his lips, and every groan you hear goes right into a chest for safe keeping. Right next to all the other memories you want to lock away.
Yoongi’s pace starts to quicken the more your mewls encourage him. What was sensuous is now unbearable and, as your dress threatens to shift, you know your breasts will be on full display soon, and Yoongi bites his lip with a grunt with his next hard thrusts.
Soon enough, you feel a chill on your nipples as they’re freed, moaning to the ceiling when Yoongi immediately heats one whole with his tongue. “Baby!”
Goddamn it. You weren’t supposed to address him like that, too. But maybe it’s better than saying his name because every time you do there’s a charge sparking the air.
So you decide to switch, moaning the same word over and over as he licks and sucks, dragging his teeth along your exposed chest and littering it with heavy proof of his lips. Just like the lipstick on his jersey, you know he’s claimed his own marks on your skin.
And neither of you will be able to hide them when you part.
Expelled tension flits about in light streaks as you move with him, slick with exertion and tight with muscles working in double time. You both know this is the last time and you’re acting like it. And you send a prayer to the heavens to let time stop just to keep holding him in your arms.
Suddenly, your heel slips, and you yelp before strong arms keep you upright. “Shit, sorry.”
“I got you.”
Summer sunsets smother your vision as you let him guide you from the wall, gently placing your leg down and leading you to a sofa. Everything simmers to a lull, and you have a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing, racing heartbeat.
When Yoongi sits on vibrant cushions, you admire the way his biceps fill those sleeves right as he tugs his jersey clean off. And you have to fight to not teeter over, continuing to stare in awe at him, so perfectly filled in some placed and chiseled in others that you start to wonder how you even left in the first place.
Of course you know why you did. So why bring it up now when you’re right here? Why agonize over the past when you’re standing right between his legs?
“Baby.”
You flick your gaze back up to his.
“Stay with me.”
Tears zing up your eyes as you nod, heart plugging your throat as you mount his toned thighs. When you feebly place hands on his searing shoulders, you hate the way your words shake on the way out, “Stay in the now. I know.”
Yoongi’s eyes shine with a light in them you weren’t sure was there before. But you can’t wait long enough for confirmation because your heart is keeling over with ache.
He remembers. He remembers. Does that mean he’s thought about you, too?
Focus on something else. No time to think about the past, nor the future. No time to notice that the way Yoongi looks at you now is so heartbreakingly similar to how he worshipped you before. Back when things were perfectly imperfect. Back when you were sure he loved you before he proved to you that he didn’t.
“Still so beautiful.”
Liquid fire fills your eyes as your breath hitches, guiding his length to your entrance before sinking onto him with no issue. When you both groan, you let your glittery vision watch the ceiling instead of him when you admit,
“You look so fucking good in red.”
There’s no response as you breathe, angling yourself to feel him deep and moving in a slow push and pull along his legs. Your thin chain tightens as your neck strains above Yoongi’s head, and you wish you had the guts to look down at the ones around his neck. They’re already deadly resting on his clothes, but rocking against the flush of his skin is how you love them the most.
Still, you can’t bear to look. You know you’ll lose yourself in those eyes if you dare stare long enough. Because what you saw earlier looked too close to longing, which would be impossible because that only exists in yours.
“And,” you whoosh out in tired breaths, gripping your fingers on him a little tighter, “Looks like you.. finally hit the gym.. like I kept fucking saying.”
A puff of warm laughter hits your chest before sweaty hands grip your waist. “Always said I would.”
“But you never did,” you huff out, grinding on him harder and melting at his little sounds. One thing you will keep giving this man credit for: he isn’t ashamed to be just as vocal as you are. The more people you ended up meeting? The rarer and rarer you realized that bedroom quality was.
“I did eventually,” he grits, holding you in place and surging into you so hard you yelp to the stars. “Didn’t I.”
“Fuck you,” you bite, moaning when your argument dies the moment his tongue swirls around a nipple again. What’s left comes out a garbled mess of a groan, and you hate, hate, hate the dark chuckle against your breast. Partly because he’s a constant problem, and partly because you yearn to see his smile again.
“What else is new about you,” Yoongi suddenly rasps, hands lowering to rest on your hips as you ride him. “Aside from clearly getting better at this.”
Lost in lust and surprised at his question, you finally peer down to see him looking up already. “No thanks to you.”
And your world stills as he doesn’t respond right away, any hint of sunlight fading from his features. “No thanks to me,” he slowly agrees.
Fuck. You didn’t mean to do that.
Slowly slipping hands from his body, you rise from his length and mourn the disconnect before standing. When Yoongi only regards you with eyes on fire, you slowly turn and rest on his thighs.
He’s not gonna like this. But he asked.
You turn your head before slowly sliding one side of your dress completely down, revealing a rough scar on your back a little lower than your shoulder.
And your soul immediately clenches when Yoongi heats your back with his body heat. “The fuck?” His fingers feel so light, so protective as they caress your mark. It’s confusing, and you abhor it as much as you need it. “What happened?”
“I fell,” you whisper. “Pretty hard.”
Details of how and when it happened don’t matter. But he wanted to know what was new, and the scar on your heart isn’t exactly readily available to show.
“I did, too.”
What? At his voice over your shoulder, you strain your neck to see him. “When?”
Why is he kissing your scar? Exes don’t do that. Exes don’t do anything you’re doing right now.
“Before you left.”
Now you feel worse. When the hell did that happen? Why didn’t you know about it? “Sorry,” you breathe out with sorrow. “I didn’t know.”
Another slow, calm graze of his mouth tightens your throat. Because he’s since moved across your back, lips now touching where your shoulderblade hit the wall.
“I know,” Yoongi sighs. “I never told you.”
He never told you many things.
Stepping into dangerous territory is making you regret showing him your worst moment. So you shift your ass to push over his cock, feeling it throb against you when you wisp out the worst reminder, “We don’t have much time.”
“Mm.”
When you feel his hands shift your dress, you lift up and allow you both to effortlessly situate you back where you wanna be. Your back hits his chest as he guides himself up into your folds, and your head kicks back to lie across his shoulder like the red silk flowing over your thigh.
“Just like you said,” you start to whisper, eyes already welling with oncoming regret, “One last time.” Every syllable just as melancholic as the notes of your favorite song.
When Yoongi starts, your heart weeps at the pace. Because it reminds you of better times, sensuous and intentional and convincing you to confess all over again. It takes everything not to speak, your moans escaping in weak puffs and your hips swelling in a calm wave.
This is too much. This is way too fucking much and you finally break when his name leaves you like a prayer. “Harder,” you beg. “Please, please go—”
You’re cut off as soon as his hips jolt up, flinging you to life before going at a menacing pace. Yes yes yes this is the one you need. The one you crave. The one that leaves no room for feelings and decisions. Your dress threatens to slip off your sides with each pound, slowly rolling and accentuating your chest in seconds. “Shit, holy shit!”
“Fuck, you’re so tight—”
“So fucking big—”
As if knowing exactly what you want, your arms are held back, locked into place as you’re under the absolute mercy of his dick slamming up into you over and over, skin slapping obscene and thighs burning from the stretch across his lap.
Yoongi knows you better than anyone else. A frustrated growl tears from your lips as you arch so far back you connect clouds, and a strong forearm wraps across your stomach to pin you so fucking close you may as well mold right into him. Passion streaks down your limbs as sweat beads along your skin, the heady scent of sex and forbidden fruit swirling into your nose.
More. More more more he’s giving you everything. As your arms are freed, you can only grip the other forearm slinging over your upper chest, nails digging into creamy skin and leaving angry, cherry red lines.
Words, praise, everything under the sun is being spewed onto your slick shoulders as you mash your teeth and eyes tight. You even hear a word you’ve been wanting to hear for years, but that can’t possibly be true because there’s no way Yoongi would ever—
A hand closes around your throat, and your eyes fly back into your head.
You’re so close. Fucking hell, your thighs are singing and your throat is burning and your abdomen strains from the arch but you need this release. You need this tidal wave to consume you. If only to forget for a split second that Yoongi isn’t—
“—yours.”
What?
Another fierce round of thrusts almost topples the two of you over, and white hot pressure paints the edges of your eyes as you strain for breath. You’re so close. So fucking close it’s right within reach.
But it all vanishes in a snap as Yoongi stops, and you cry with a teary rasp, “No, please, baby—”
“Not yet.” He hauls you up, making you sit straight and facing away yet again. “You know what to do.”
Fuck. There’s no way he remembers this, too. You flinch at the slap to your breast before shakily getting up, legs wobbly but positioning yourself on his cock perfectly before sliding down.
Both heels planted on the ground, you brace his strong knees and work his slick length, eyes rolling at his breathy groans and curses leaving his mouth in spurts.
You know exactly what to do to make him lose his goddamn mind. So you do it all, swirling and swerving your hips while flicking off your silk, showing him the best view of your ass as it bounces. Your legs tire, but you don’t, and you use the music leaking into the room to set your sickening, aggravating pace.
“Fuck, baby..”
“You asked for it.”
“Don’t regret a goddamn thing.”
You can tell he’s on the brink of madness, and you can only picture the way his head thumps back on the couch, mouth torn by his teeth and brows furrowed to hell. His muscles are probably contracting in waves, including the ones in his perfect, bulging arms.
“You shouldn’t,” you hum. “Since this is all you get.”
Without a word, hands reach out and tug you backward, and you’re up on your feet and tripping before your hands slap the firm cushions of the next chair over. “What the fu—”
To your absolute delight, Yoongi plants a foot on the chair before gripping the pliant dip of your hips, pushing tears from your eyes with each quick, deep thrust he rams forward. Stars dance along your vision as drool leaks endlessly from your mouth. “Baby—! Fuck!”
“This pussy’s so.. Fuck.” You’re shoved so far down that your moist cheek smushes into firm cushion. “Say my name.”
“Babe—”
“As much as I wanna hear that every fucking day”—Yoongi shoves into you again and keeps his cock thrumming inside your cunt—“Right now, I’m gonna hear my name. So say it.”
“Yoongi—”
His deep, gritted command makes you snap, “Louder.”
“Yoongi—!”
You feel it. You’re at the brink again. With every snap of his skin pounding against yours, you’re inching closer and closer and closer to the edge, waiting for the fall that will end you. “Baby, I’m gonna—”
Firm arms haul you upward and you’re both travelling the room again, legs skittering until you hit back first into the nearest wall fuck that took your breath out.
Yoongi’s breath catches as he slams a hand against the plaster to steady, face burrowed in your neck and hair brushing harsh against your ear as he buries inside of you again. Fire spews from his mouth as you feel his cock squeeze up into your cunt, and his arm tenses tight behind your knee as he commands,
“Come for me, love.”
You don’t know what the fuck you just heard but you know he didn’t just say—
“I said come.”
Instinct. Pure, animalistic instinct surges your orgasm forward in a high crest, breaking onto shore in hot, white waves as you tremble around him. Your cunt squeezes and tugs, your poor leg threatening collapse as Yoongi roughly hums so deep against your chest. Pleasure, starlight, the warmth of an afternoon faraway heats your body just right, and one crash leads into the next so effortlessly that tears zip down your cheeks.
Your name rips from Yoongi’s throat.
And it’s enough to send you right over the edge again.
How the fuck is this possible how the hell can someone break you with your own name how can Yoongi have this much of a hold on you when it’s been literal years? It doesn’t make any sense and the cries into his neck as he holds you close are akin to sobs. Maybe they are. Maybe they’re your way of mourning everything that could’ve been. Everything that will never be.
But at least you were able to have him, shaking in your grasp and pulsing in your core. One more night. One last time.
“Fuck it, come here.”
Your sobs are yanked from the wall again, and you don’t know up from left as you're thrown onto a sofa, back curling as Yoongi tugs your head upright. Your tears slide down your neck, wetting your necklace as he breathes out,
“Again.”
Fuck! Your cunt tightens around him as you gasp out, “I can’t… I can’t—”
“Don’t lie to me,” Yoongi growls, clutching your chin and flinging hot spit onto your face that catapults you into another level of need you’ve never been to holy fuck. Smothering it against your cheeks, he taps you once and it brings destruction. “I said again.”
All your limbs lock at the bends as you throw your head in a strained cry, a release that overpowers all the others flushing through your veins and igniting beams out of your sweaty chest. Wave upon wave crashes into your soul and your ears ring so loud you can barely hear or see Yoongi watching from above. You can’t. You’re too caught in chaos. You can’t see the way he looks at you.
“Come for me, Yoongi,” you suddenly plead, “Let go.”
“Let me pull—”
“Do it now,” you hitch out. “Come inside.”
A prolonged moan leaves his mouth as he launches into a pace that has you screaming, teeth gritted to hell and fingers gripping you so hard you know they’re going to bruise. But who cares when your skin will match your heart? Who gives a fuck about anything else anymore?
Beautiful weight crushes your chest as Yoongi’s body turns erratic, jolting and seizing up. And you know he’s racing to his own cliff to dive and you’re gonna be right there to catch him. Slinging your arms around his drenched back and fisting the wet base of his hair, you’re already ready and waiting with harsh harsh breaths, because you're about to break him.
“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to his ear, ravaging his slick neck with your lips and scraping teeth over his ear just how he likes, hearts beating as one when you stop just to connect your forehead to his. With a singular, throaty gasp, you plead,
“One last time.”
Yoongi’s sudden release sends a pulse through the air, and your core beats and beats with each pump of essence he spews inside. Heaven and earth collide with stars as you hold tight, and your thighs shake as he finishes filling you with the longest orgasm you have ever, ever seen him endure.
The float down doesn’t come quick, both of you softly suspended in time and air. Steam radiates from your skin and flows from your mouths with each breath, and beads of sweat slip down his jewelry as he stares with a deep vastness in his eyes.
Why is he so quiet?
Why are you so quiet?
Why do you feel like crying again?
With one more shaken breath, Yoongi swallows, chest heaving right after as he struggles to gather himself. His shoulders are so broad when he moves under your hands, closing his eyes as soon as your brows touch,
“I know it’s over.”
Your heart flares.
“But I need you to know.”
Stars light the night sky.
“I love you. And I always will.”
A sob breaks your silence, hand flying to cup your mouth before you hunch forward into his trembling chest. Days and days of pent up anger and sadness spill out all at once, and you weep into his chest because you can’t bear to let go.
“I know you’ve moved on,” Yoongi continues with a shake to his words, not pausing at the way you choke and weep. “But I’ve regretted never saying it back then. And I’m not gonna get another chance.”
What the fuck is happening. What does he mean? What does he mean? Your body can’t stop as it locks and locks, sobs wracking your chest because this is fucked up and confusing and everything you’ve been wanting for the longest time. This is all you wanted. And you only get it at the very end.
“I didn’t even say goodbye,” you shake out. When you lift your trembling head, his lips are already so achingly close to yours and his hand moves to steady your neck. “I left and never came back.”
When his eyes are the only ones that speak, you start to spill everything out, words tumbling into one another and pinging to the floors around your tired feet,
“I tried so hard to forget you. Tried so, so hard to stop loving you. Every day, I’d wake up wanting nothing to do with you, only to see you in my dreams and remember how it felt to—to—”
Bright red flares across Yoongi’s eyes as he keeps listening, jaw pulsing and brows so tense.
“At first, I was so angry. At you, at myself, at the world for letting me love you when you never loved me back. But now, I know what I did was wrong. And I regret it every day that I live.”
When your face contorts in sorrow, Yoongi brings a hand up to wipe your cheek, thumb brushing away your tears. “I did, babe.” Your breath stops and your eyes splay wide. “Just never had the guts to say it first.”
First.
Yoongi loved you all the way back then? Before that starry night that’s kept your heart captive for so long? It pulses against your chest, ramming and ramming into your ribcage to get to his.
Only one question barrels through your mind. “…Why?”
Yoongi looks from one eye to the next. “Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”
Everything clicks into place and you suddenly feel so, so upset. You are going to fight this man to the moon and back. Or, better yet, you’re gonna fight him to the moon and leave him there. “You think I thought that way?”
“No.” He sighs, chains shaking over your chest. “And I replay that night over, and over. Knowing that I’d do anything to go back and tell you how I felt.”
Yoongi never lived in the past. He was always adamant about staying in the present. So knowing he’d been stuck there right next to you makes your chest collapse before slipping down into the deep sea.
“When I saw you today? Every day I told myself I’d get over you didn’t matter. Every reason I told myself I couldn’t be with you was bullshit.”
Your throat constricts again.
“But when you kept running.. I knew you were done with me for good.” Yoongi’s hand falls. “And there was nothing I could do to change your mind.”
“Yoongi…”
All this time, you both had your own reasons for avoiding each other. Everything you fed into your logical side was just a ploy to project your feelings, and it turns out Yoongi did the exact same thing.
He said he wouldn’t be able to hold back if you did this tonight. And now, you’re blessed to know exactly what he meant.
So you also let everything go.
“I was never done with you,” you choke out, seeing a swath of emotion brush across his face. “Because I’m still in love with you, and I will be even if you walk out of here without me.”
Musk and heaven consumes you in a hug, and you cry into a bare shoulder as you hear Yoongi vow something so full of longing and conviction you hold him tighter,
“I’m not going anywhere else without you.”
Music continues to pulse outside, lasers continue to dance around the room. But you see nothing but the light in your lover's eyes.
And it’s a beautiful, beautiful sunrise.
—
—
When you both finally part, it’s only to let him get dressed and for you to use the nearest restroom. In the quiet wake of your emotional storm, Yoongi walks you to the window spanning the far wall of the lounge, and you both watch the club floors move and sway from above. And it’s only now that you feel shy. It’s only now that you feel nervous seeing everyone below.
But a thought occurs to you that dashes all others away,
“How did you know to come up here?”
Yoongi gives you a look that you raise a brow at. “I…” He sighs. “Let’s just say I know my way around this place.”
Ah. Of course. “Come here often?”
“Not for the reasons you think.”
Your brows are fully bent now. “…Huh?”
“I own the building.” Hands busy, he adjusts his jersey as if he didn’t drop the biggest shock of the century on your toes. “And a couple others in the city.”
What.
Pause pause pause hold the fucking phone.
Yoongi lives in this city? He owns what? This is a little too much to take in, but you have time. And you’re gonna hound him for every single detail of his life that you’ve missed.
You have time. Your prayer had been answered tenfold. And you send endless gratitude to the sky.
But suddenly, a second realization pierces your mind and you lightly shove him. When Yoongi looks at you in shock, you yell out, “You asked what’s new and I showed you a scar! Now you tell me you own a fucking building?”
Your lover laughs, and the sun rises even higher over your horizon. Ducking your next swipe, he’s already back to irritating you again as he clarifies, “I said more than one—”
“Oh, fuck you!”
He rushes forward and gathers you in his arms, not caring if anyone sees your embrace in the window. “You wanna go again?”
Your face heats as your eyes roll heavenward, exactly where you feel like you are in this moment. “I have a pretty big hotel room,” you divulge. “And no one to share that bedroom with unless someone else catches my eye tonight, so…”
Yoongi’s eyes crease as he kisses your forehead. “Fuck that. Take me home.”
Your giggles into his chin bubble out in pink, poppable spheres.
As magnificent and dreamlike all of this has been, you're starting to find logic again. Because more than one question badgers into your mind.
How long have you been gone? Have your friends not even checked on you? Did they try? Did they leave do they even still have the... table…
Wait.
Everything else clicks into place.
The random city everyone flew to that Jeongguk picked. The infamous club and dress code you heard about from Taehyung. The table that Hoseok bragged about getting…
“...You're the one that got us VIP.”
That stupid, annoying, ridiculous grin. Of course this is how you'd be reminded of how much you love to hate it.
“Now come dance with me,” he says with teeth still flashing wide. “Let’s see if you ever got that step.”
Eyes sparkling, you let him lead you down and onto the dance floor, moving through until you’re suddenly next to your friends that shout and holler at your arrival together.
“All of you are crazy!” You yell out, tears in your smile as they burst into laughter. “Why didn’t you just tell me!”
Yoongi grabs hold of you before chuckling into your ear. “I told them not to.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t know if you were really done.” He grips you tight, face falling into seriousness. “But I heard you broke up with someone a month ago. This was my only chance and I took it.”
Holy fucking shit.
“Thank you.” You kiss his cheek with purpose. “I love you.”
Yoongi’s cheeks rise high, dimples prominent and eyes carrying the light of the universe. Lips close, he responds how he wanted to the first time.
And you seal your devotion with a kiss full of starlight.
“Ugh, here we go.”
“Already at it again, huh.”
"Figures. Didn't you see his jersey?"
“Get another room—!”
Suddenly, the same song that used to haunt you comes on once more, but this time, you welcome it with a swell of freedom in your chest. The waves of your mind calm, washing onto an empty beach and fading into a mesmerizing valley of blue.
Yoongi grins as he holds your hand, and you can't help but stretch your mouth wide as you both immerse into the crowd, moving and spinning and stepping perfectly together on every beat. Laughter and joy fills the space between your hearts as you all cheer, sharing this infinite moment together as fate intended.
In a beautiful, unforgettable dance.
-
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fin :)
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hi lovelies what did we think !! | main masterlist
a/n: so don't ask how i managed to write all of this in a single day (now two) lol i think this madrid yoongi broke me. anyways, here's the sidequest that became the main quest for a bit! i'm back to writing three tangerines so 3tan13 will be finished here real soon :D thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoyed this irresistible ex turned lover yoongiiiii :DD did i cry? yes. can you prove it? no!!!!
a/n 2: as always, reblogs and comments and asks are always super appreciated! i love sharing things with you guys and a big part of that is getting to hear what you all liked and what you're excited about. happy to chat, and thank you for reading!
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note 1: thank you so so much for the support! y'all you don’t know how much it means to me. also, pls don’t hesitate to let me know what you liked about the fic with a message. it would mean so much.
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summary | In an attempt to work on something important, you come home early expecting peace and quiet. Instead, you find your man there, far too distracting in his gym attire to get anything work-related done…
or
Riding Kim Seokjin in those impossibly sexy gray sweats…
pairing | seokjin x f!reader
word count | 9.2k
elements | seokjin’s gray sweats; that big package; established relationship; cowgirl position; blowjob; oral sex; porn without much plot; 🔞; explicit sexual content
author's note | those damn gray sweats have burnt themselves into my brain istg, so this was born. I wrote this to indulge my own fantasies, I make no apologies −I will take my place in hell! I’m so deep in my ‘Corrupted by Seokjin’ era 🫦 Anyway, I hope you enjoy. As ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked. No, really, I am practically going blind from looking at this long ass porn fic fr… 🥹 you should have seen it before I chopped it down!
mbts masterlists | ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ ) ( ❛ bts taglist ❜ )
seokjin masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ )
This has got to be some sort of joke, like your stars were playing sick-fuckery games with you. You had left the hectic as hell office with the hope of getting a few hours of peace at home so you could work on some very important client files without constant interruptions.
The place was supposed to be empty, but as you walk into your apartment, you realize that you were about to become the kind of person whose evening was about to be completely derailed by a man in gray sweats.
More specifically −your man. Kim Seokjin. Mr. World Wide Handsome himself.
He’s sitting on the sofa with his phone balanced on one knee, glasses slipping down his nose as he scrolls, absorbing whatever it was with utter concentration. The sliver of pink tongue at the corner of his mouth which peeks out that he tends to do when he is focused stops your thoughts momentarily as you halt in the doorway, already feeling your temperature start to rise.
It was ridiculous how effortlessly he elevated your pulse with the tiniest, most mundane things. Like looking through a phone in plain gray sweats. That sort of image had no right to cause your entire body’s nerves to feel like they were rewiring manically. But this was Kim Seokjin, and WWH made nothing look basic.
You groan inwardly with the concession of a woman who knows she’s lost the battle even before it had begun. Seokjin looks up, startled, and sees you standing there gawking, open-mouthed, clutching onto an armful of legal documentation.
“Oh, hey!” he greets, his handsome face breaking out into a soft smile that takes his attractiveness up about ten levels. “−I didn’t even hear you come in. You’re early.”
And you are not meant to be here.
Whatever happened to the gym session he said he had planned with the guys? Although, on closer inspection, he looks like he’s already been to one judging by the light sheen of sweat that adorns that beautifully sexy forehead. Yeah, Seokjin even had a sexy forehead, something nobody could have ever convinced you was possible until you had met him six months ago and been floored by the sheer magnitude of his undeniable appeal.
You swallow. “Uh− yeah. I needed somewhere quiet, so I thought I’d bring some work back and−.”
He jumps up from the couch immediately, stuffing his phone into his pocket which only succeeds in diverting your attention to the fit of his sweats. “I got it, I’m sorry,” he says, giving you that sweet-fawn smile with those unbearably cute, ripe strawberry lips. “I’ll give you some space if you wanna work in here.”
“No−!” you call, a little too quickly and loudly, your throat drying by the second, and your eyes refusing to leave his body, mesmerized by the way the material folds and encompasses every inch of his tall, lean frame as he moves. “I mean, you don’t have to go. Just stay.”
God, you were hooked on this man something crazy.
Seokjin shoots you a look. “You okay?” he ventures, those perfect eyebrows creasing as he stares at you with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you manage, finally tearing your gaze from him. You move forward to deposit your files on the coffee table and sling your purse onto the nearest sofa with a deep sigh. “What happened to your gym session?”
Seokjin grins mischievously. “I managed to get out of it,” he tells you, his eyes lighting up. “Well, not exactly get out of it −but more like I sort of did some exercise here by myself.”
“Oh?” you say. Seokjin wasn’t the most enthusiastic about working out at the best of times, but he usually always got through it and applied himself with commendable dedication. “−Why didn’t you want to do it with the guys?”
He looks slightly sheepish, and it’s entirely adorable of course. “I, uh −I wanted to surprise you actually,” he tells you. “I was going to cook something nice for dinner, so I planned to do it before you got back. Only−,” he gestures towards you. “−Obviously you’re here now, so it won’t be too much of a surprise.”
The image of him standing over the stove, rustling up something delicious in those sweats suddenly removes your ability to form words and you swear you can feel saliva accumulating in your mouth ready to dribble over the moment your mouth opens.
You snap out of it, your brain automatically kicking into gear. “Am I missing something?” you ask, suddenly nervous that you might have missed some important date you should have remembered. “If I have, I’m so sorry, work has been nonstop lately I just haven’t been able to−.”
“No, no,” Seokjin interjects, looking miffed at your confusion. “There’s nothing like that. I just wanted to do something special, that’s all. I know you’ve been working hard lately, so I thought I would…” He tuts softly to himself. “I’m sorry, I should have checked with you first instead of assuming. I know you have a lot to do without me throwing surprise dinners at you.”
God, just when you think that you couldn’t love this man any more than you did, he comes out with something like that. You silently give thanks to whatever powers that be had thrown him into your path, because men like him were meant to be myths.
Your heart squeezes with so much love you are convinced it would burst if he says another word. You look at him standing there, just looking back at you with those innocent brown eyes so sweetly apologetic, and you feel your heart turning into a puddle of goo that matched the way you felt between your legs. This is all you needed, a full Seokjin onslaught.
“No, baby,” you say. “You haven’t done anything wrong. I was just worried I had forgotten some special date or anniversary or something.”
A smile replaces his pout, and he walks to you, arms outstretched. You brace yourself for what you know you’re going to feel, just before he envelopes you in his arms, bringing you in to his chest in an embrace. Your eyes close as you rest your head on the firmness of his body, breathing in his unmistakable scent.
Musk from his soap, the light lingering of sweat on his body, the powdery smell of the laundry detergent, and the faint bars of woodsy cologne that still cling to his skin all combine together to create something irresistible. Something you so clearly identified with Seokjin. He smells like long, luxurious lovemaking over satin sheets, mixed with rough, stretching, aching sex, the kind that had no fixed setting, all rolled into one.
Your hands curl around his narrow waist, desire beginning to brim higher inside you as you feel the sharp indentation of his hips, knowing if your hands travelled just underneath the hem of his sweatshirt, you would be closer to feeling the satin heat of his bare skin. He was driving you crazy already, unknowingly. How were you going to get any work done now, with this gorgeous specimen right here, just built perfectly to satisfy your rapidly rising lust.
Seokjin places a kiss on the top of your head, before his hands cup your face and raise it upwards so he can look down into your eyes. “You forgot something,” he says, affection in his voice. “−My kiss.”
Oh God.
He bends his head down, lips hovering above yours as his long fingers curl around your neck, thumbs stroking your jaw. How could you confess that if you started kissing him, maybe you might never stop. Before you can form another thought, he brings his lips to yours, covering them in a soft, sweetly innocent kiss.
You hum instinctively, the sensations that come alive in you a mix of pleasure and impatience. The kiss is barely more than a short meeting of mouths, but it feels like he’s kissed you head to toe, long and languorously, and left your body tingling all over, weak for him. You slack in his arms.
“That’s better,” he says with a sugary smile that attacks your weakened knees. “Things don’t feel right if I don’t get one of those from you.”
You force a smile back, although all you can think about is feeling those deliciously plump, rosy lips of his blaze maddening kisses up your thighs, and that soft, wet mouth pressing between your legs as he laps at your cunt, tongue-fucking you to an earth-shattering climax.
Your walls clenches, and you can already feel your arousal moistening unstoppably own below. You struggle to form a normal thought, not even when you attempt to think of something so unsexual −like the clients you are meant to be preparing the brief for.
“Let me go shower,” Seokjin says, breaking your thoughts. “−I’m sure I don’t smell the best.”
That’s bullshit, he smells like… sex. Hot, unbridled, raw sex. The kind you were starting to crave right about now. Instinctively, your fingers curl into his sweatshirt, gathering the inviting material against your fingers. You don’t want him to leave −not just yet.
“What is it, baby?” he asks tenderly, eyes searching yours. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Seokjin was an amazing guy, really he was. But there were times when he really could be absolutely clueless, especially when it came to just how much of an effect he could have on someone. In this case, you. He talked a good game with the whole World-Wide Handsome stuff, but behind the façade, he didn’t seem to be fully convinced he was as hot as the world placed him as.
Which was correct in a way −he’s far hotter than anyone could possibly imagine. You could vouch for that. You don’t know what you did in your past life to have this man keeping your bed warm, but you could pretty much guarantee it had been astronomic. Seriously, like Joan of Arc level possibly.
“I’m good,” you say, clearing your throat, your lips still dancing with sensation where his kiss had touched. You raise one hand to your mouth, grazing over the spot, and Seokjin watches you curiously. You shoot him a quick smile, removing your hand instantly. “−It’s just work stuff, you know?”
Seokjin arches those perfect eyebrows at you. “Okay,” he says, although you can tell from his tone that he isn’t convinced. “I’ll go and shower, give you some time to get yourself set up and do what you need to do. Just let me know when you’re ready to eat.” He holds his hands up. “No pressure. Take your time, I’ll wait.”
Then he pulls away from you, the fabric of his sweatshirt slipping through your fingers as he moves back. Your eyes refuse to leave him as he returns to the sofa to plump up the cushions where he was sitting, before he heads towards the door.
“You should have changed!” you blurt out in your desperation for him not to go.
He stops, already hallway out of the room, and turns back to you. “What?” he asks incredulously.
You run your hands through your hair, flustered. “Your workout gear,” you say hurriedly. “You should have changed before you−.” You falter, feeling ridiculous.
What the hell was the matter with you anyway? You should just focus on the work you had to do, which is why you came back here in the first place. Even Seokjin is making the effort to take your work seriously, and all you can think about is his cock inside you−
“Y/N,” Seokjin says. He takes off his glasses and folds them slowly, setting them down on a nearby shelf. “−You’re being really weird. Why don’t you just tell me what’s up so we can avoid all this weirdness and do whatever we both need to get done. You have work to do, right, and I would love to change out of this outfit −after a shower. So, spill. What is it?”
You take him in, open mouthed, the full deal −head to toe. His movement is fluid, an easy confidence in his stride as he makes his way towards you. His gray hoodie pulls across his broad shoulders before settling again, the sleeves pushed casually up his forearms, bunching beneath his elbow and revealing strong wrists and the faint outline of veins beneath warm honeyed skin.
Matching bottoms hang comfortably on his narrow hips, the fabric draping over long, lean thighs that somehow make the path before him feel smaller with every step, before falling in a relaxed, straight line down long legs and tapering neatly at his ankles, stopping just above his house slippers.
It’s the kind of casual look that is usually put together solely for purpose, ordinary −but on him they become anything but. Kim Seokjin didn’t do normal.
His dark hair is slightly mussed, like he'd run absent-minded fingers through it one too many times, strands falling across his forehead in a way that's effortless rather than styled. Fresh-faced and make-up free, expensive-looking skin still carrying a faint sheen that catches the light along his temples and the side of his neck. Proof of the workout he hasn't yet washed away.
You feel an appreciative moan rise up and lodge itself in your throat, and you push it down with all the restraint you can conjure up.
Seokjin looks utterly divine.
You start to fully appreciate exactly why every time he was photographed in this fit, the internet went crazy for him. you can’t help it as your eyes fall just in the place where the cloth skims over what Seokjin had been blessed with as it forms a soft but prominent rise in the crotch of his sweatpants. You bring your hands behind your back, fingers entwining as if you physically needed to restrain yourself from reaching out to palm over his alluring bulge.
Warm, bright eyes survey you with quiet amusement the moment they catch yours, as if he hasn’t completely and unknowingly derailed your ability to form a coherent thought. He stops in front of you, one corner of his mouth lifting. "Are you done checking me out?" he asks, hands sliding into his pockets as his eyes hold yours questioningly. “I thought you wanted me to change out of this?”
You swallow guiltily, heat climbing straight to your cheeks. “Why do you persist in wearing that so often?” you ask exasperatedly, the tightness in your voice betraying how flustered you are. “Surely your sponsors have other clothes you can wear.”
For a second, his usual quick wit abandons him, but then he smiles in that quiet, devastating way that never asks for attention and somehow earns all of it. "Should I have worn formalwear to work out?”
"You could've shown some restraint," you mumble under your breath.
Fucking Alo had a lot to answer for lately. Like the millions of soaking wet panties putting Seokjin in this outfit had brought on −including yours now. You hadn’t really seen him post-workout in these sweats before, only in photos. You should have kept it that way, because now, really, the prospect of doing any work was a million miles away.
“Restraint?” he echoes, having clearly heard you. “What are you on about?”
You point at him as if you're presenting evidence in court. "Oh, come on,” you tell him, “Quit acting all innocent. You go on social media."
He blinks, regarding you. “What is the matter with you today?” he asks, his expression growing stern again. “You are really acting strange, Y/N. Just spit it out, whatever it is that’s got you being like this.”
Your patience snaps, frustration overtaking you. “You’re distracting me!” you blurt out. “You weren’t meant to be here, I was supposed to come back and finish an urgent brief, but now… now you’re here, and I can’t… I can’t fucking concentrate!”
Seokjin’s eyebrows lift. “I’m distracting you?” he says blankly, clearly thrown by your outburst. “How? I’m literally leaving the room!”
“By−,” you start, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “−that!”
He follows your hand to himself. "The hoodie?"
You nod defeatedly. "It’s the entire package,” you tell him.
You can tell Seokjin doesn't have a reply, he just stares, bewildered, before letting out a slow breath. "That was…,” he says, clearing his throat as a dangerous smirk begins to appear, “−Unexpected."
“Show-off,” you mutter under your breath, but your eyes are traitorously on his outfit again, running down his chest.
Soft gray cotton, a neckline that sits against his defined collarbone as if it was made to be touched, and lean, taut muscle beneath the fabric that drove you wild. How could you not look? Seokjin’s eyes follow yours instantly, not missing a beat, and he looks back at you questioningly.
“You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” you state accusingly.
He snorts lightly. “Oh yeah?” he says, taking the smallest step forward, inching nearer to you. “−And what exactly is that, hmm?”
Your breath catches as his eyes lower, slowly travelling downwards, coming to rest on the prominent rise and fall of your chest. You watch as his expression changes, something registering in his face that sends your pulse skyrocketing.
“You know what,” you say, your voice strained in the silence as you feel yourself weakening at the sight in front of you.
Seokjin edges nearer yet. “No, really I don’t,” he says, his eyes fixed on you so intently that you don’t have any ability to hide the tiniest reaction from him. “So why don’t you just tell me what exactly I’m doing to distract you.”
“You’re not helping,” you whisper.
Why did he have to be so incredibly attractive, so much so that it gave you no chance of a grateful retreat to safety. Away from those plush lips that threatened to wreak havoc on your body with the slightest movement, and those skilled, long fingers that worked you head to toe so expertly, and that body that lay beneath the material of those flattering sweats that you longed to feel pressing against you so sinfully.
Something in your expression must have given you away because you feel Seokjin’s hand settle at your waist and you still with a small gasp. He’s so tall you have to look up, your heart already hammering in expectation, knees feeling like they couldn’t hold up your body much longer. His eyes pass over your face leisurely, making your skin feel aware of itself and you feel yourself tremble in his arms.
“Hm,” he murmurs, a flicker of amused satisfaction crossing his expression. “−You’re shaking.”
Seokjin draws you in closer into his space, close enough that the warmth radiating through his clothes feels like it’s settling into your bloodstream, refusing to leave. His fingers flex at your side, barely a stroke, almost absentmindedly, a graze of nothing −yet you feel it everywhere.
“What is it, baby?” he coaxes gently, his voice deeper, coating you like sweet, rich honey. “Talk to me.”
That does it. Your restraint doesn’t break so much as slip. Your hands come up to catch the front of his sweatshirt before you fully register moving, finding purchase against his chest, the fabric beneath your fingertips soft and maddeningly domestic for something that feels this charged.
His breath changes, and so does yours. “This−” you whisper, almost challenging. “When you do this.”
A faint smile brushes his mouth as he closes his hands behind you at the small of your back. “I think,” he says quietly, “That you like it when I do this.”
Heat floods your face at how easily he says it, how he studies you, watching how you react without looking away, and your breath catches hard. That would be an understatement if ever there was one. You didn’t just like it, you craved it like the air you breathed. The way he touched you, from the tiniest contact to the most intimate invasion, set you alight in ways you had never realized was possible before him.
Seokjin’s hands slide back to your waist, hovering where your blouse meets your skirt, no ambiguity left. “Am I right?” he asks huskily, but you can see it isn’t really a question. He already knows the answer.
You stare back at him and see the victory in his eyes.
From how he’s angled your body to his, you suddenly become aware of the press of something at your stomach. You give a faint, longing whimper. He’s hard, cock pressing through his sweatpants, straining and vying for your attention. Heaven help you.
Seokjin cups your face with one hand, thumb at your chin, stroking upwards until it reaches your bottom lip. Your parted mouth searches for his digit, your tongue seeking the tip as it enters your mouth, sliding wetly around before enclosing it with your lips, sucking slowly.
You hear him moan lightly, his eyes darker than before now. God, you want him. Right here, in these sweats, looking like this, you want him inside you. You didn’t care how or where, so long as something of his was in you. Your eyes semi-close, lids heavy with desire as he removes his thumb from your mouth and kisses you.
The touch of his lips on yours sends your body careering into overdrive, the lust that consumes you spreading fast and wide until there isn’t one inch of you that doesn’t need him like a drug. Your mouth opens beneath his, allowing his tongue to push and slide against yours in a searching, teasing dance, his smooth plump lips caressing and rubbing over yours as your breath breaks against his kiss, ever aware of the hardness of his erection that continues to remind you of its presence jutting against your body.
You cling to him like a lifeline, crazed with want, your unashamed moans swallowed by Seokjin’s wet, hot mouth. Slowly, you both start to move towards the couch, still engrossed in kissing. Seokjin goes down first, pulling you on top of him as he reaches up to pull out your hairclip, freeing your hair which goes cascading down and over him. He buries his hands into it, tugging softly, kissing intensifying as he gives a low, throaty growl that you feel all the way to your core.
He pushes your hair back, smiling at you. “So−,” he begins softly, hips rolling gently against you, “—This is what you’re after.”
You look down at him, all flushed, swollen, kiss-stung deep pink lips, dark and hungry eyes on a face that gleams with a thin layer of sweat over his light caramel-tone skin. He is absolutely delectable, sinfully and achingly heavenly. So much so that immediately you reclaim his mouth with a needy kiss, wanting to feel their sweet plushness under yours. His eyes widen in surprise for a second before fluttering closed, kissing you back with depth and urgency.
You need more as his huge boner presses up at your stomach, digging into you. You place your hands at Seokjin’s shoulders and push back, easing yourself away slightly, biting at your lip mischievously. He looks at you, his breath coming faster, already in anticipation of what might come when your hand trawls down his chest and down to the hem of his sweatshirt. Hooking your fingers beneath it, you reach under the material and encounter the heat of his skin, his washboard abs tensing beneath your touch.
“Oh God!” you breathe, your arousal heavy, your inner walls already clenching.
You look down at the protruding bulge that is situated less than an inch from your roving hands, and slowly begin to come down, splaying over Seokjin’s stomach, moving lower until you make connection. You gasp, your mouth watering as you palm over his huge, clothed cock. These fucking sweats would be the death of you. Nobody should look this good in gray fucking sweats.
“Damn you!” you groan brokenly, “Couldn’t you just wear something else?”
He moans softly, lifting his hands, one he tucks behind his head as he peers down at you, and the other stretches towards you, easing your hair behind your ear. “Sponsorship, baby,” he drawls lazily. “I’m under contract.”
“Yeah, yeah,” you murmur distractedly, your hand passing over his cock again.
He hisses inwardly, catching your hand. “Don’t−,” he warns, his sudden authoritativeness turning you on. “Not unless you’re going to do something. You said you have work, right? I’m not clean, I have to shower.”
You shoot him a look, letting the tip of your tongue run over your lip. “Work can wait,” you state, your brain doing a complete one-eighty to deviate from its early mindset. “—And I like the way you look right now,” you tell him, eyes running pointedly down his fit. “Exactly like this.”
It takes him a second for his mind to finally comprehend the appeal, and he blinks in surprise. “You too?” he muses. “Seriously?”
“Mmhmm,” you confirm. “I don’t believe you don’t know just what you’re doing to everyone in these clothes.”
“They’re sweatpants!” Seokjin says exasperatedly, letting out an awkward scoff of laughter. “I mean, I know I’m handsome but come on!”
You shake your head. “Nice try, but I still don’t believe you,” you say resolutely. “Now, let go of my hand.”
You pull yourself free determinedly, and Seokjin huffs gently, watching as you drop down and position yourself between his thighs which spread slightly to accommodate you. He stretches out, his long, lean body sprawling out over the couch. His sweatshirt rises, revealing his wonderfully defined abs and a lightly sweat-sheened stomach, the neat divot of his navel and clean lines that lead invitingly towards his pelvis and to the huge bulge tenting in his pants.
You take him in greedily, fascinated momentarily by the way his stomach rises and falls in time with his quickened breathing. Did he really not know the danger of his own allure? His stomach was a work of art designed to bring women to their knees; you couldn’t get enough of it. Toned and inviting, you wanted to place sucking kisses across every inch of his beautiful honey skin.
Seokjin watches as your hands move, fingers lingering at the waistband of his pants, your eyes finding his, full of unabashed desire as you start to tug down both the pants and his underwear. There’s something so exciting about stripping away these sweats from him to uncover what lay beneath, and your heartbeat quickens, skin flushing with want under his gaze.
You ease the material carefully over the engorged head of his cock and watch in delight and raw want as his erection springs free, flush and dusky rose against his abdomen, the wide, spongy tip glistening with the first slick shine of precum.
What a sight he is. Weighty and thick, saliva fills your mouth at what you see. You can barely contain your own arousal as you slide the garments down over his thighs until they rest just above his knees, giving you full exposure, the scent of his soap and sweat and masculinity mixing together in an irresistible cocktail that intoxicates you.
Slowly, your head dips, moving towards his twitching cock. You need a moment to take it all in with appreciation. He’s so damn huge, so long and girthy, veined and tempting. A shiver of delight dances up your spine as you look up through your lashes to see Seokjin swallow with heated anticipation, the bob of his Adam’s apple only furthering your thirst for him.
You’re so weak, so gone, so ready for him as you place your hands at the tops of his firm thighs, your mouth descending towards his shaft. You lick at your lips again, before the tip of your tongue connects with the slit of his cockhead, sliding across the line and tasting the first salty tang of his arousal.
“Fuck!” Seokjin rasps tautly, body tensing as he raises his head a little further to get a better view of you.
You swallow down what lingers on your tongue, the smallest hint of a smile playing at your lips as you hold eye contact with him. If he was going to be this seductive that it distracted you from work, then he was going to have to pay the price. You repeat the gesture once more, extracting yet another strained curse from Seokjin, accompanied this time by a groan.
You take his head between your lips, pushing down your mouth over the velvety flesh, tongue flicking over his slit to take in more of his precum. You’re already in awe of his size, just as you always were, and even though only the tip of his cock is in your mouth, you can feel the stretch of your lips around it. His hips buck up involuntarily, wanting to be inside more, already addicted to your wet heat.
He reaches down to bury a hand into your hair, guiding your head further down, impatient to speed up your unhurried start. You oblige, eager to pleasure him, hungry to taste more of his beautiful, big cock. You push forward, letting his massive length fill your mouth until the head hits the back of your throat, activating your gag reflex. The stretch is intense. Seokjin moans, fingers digging in against your scalp to keep your mouth around him.
The tip of your nose presses against the soft skin of his abdomen, fighting to breathe as you inhale his scent, the situation so erotically charged that your arousal feels like it’s going to send you crazy. You force back the urge to gag, tears springing to your eyes as you swallow down your excess saliva before your lips clamp determinedly over his cock. You bring your hand up to curl around his thick base, so his entire shaft is encased by you.
“Fuck, Y/N! Seokjin growls, relaxing his hand in your hair a fraction, enough that you can pull back, your lips sliding smoothly back up his erection, tongue lapping around his full girth. “You take me so—”
He’s stopped short, words fading into a sharp hiss as you cup his balls gently with careful fingers. You steal another glance upwards, where the view that greets you is exquisite. Seokjin’s eyes are trained in your direction but are closed, long dark lashes fluttering at the tops of his cheeks. His plump lips are parted open in a series of ragged pants and curses, hair falling disobediently messily as damp strands lick at the corners of his forehead.
Oh, Kim Seokjin was world-wide handsome for sure.
He leans back with a sigh as you squeeze gently at him, the long column of his throat bared, carrying the glowing sheen of sweat over his perfectly smooth skin. You caress the heavy sacks slowly, your mouth working at his cock languidly, stretching out every suck, every lick, every taste of him. Wanting him to want as badly as you do.
You let your teeth graze along the underside of his shaft, and his eyes fly open, a mixture of fear and thrill in his dark irises. You smile up at him innocently, flicking out your tongue to collect yet more of his oozing precum into your mouth, before you make such a scene of swallowing it that your performance would be worthy of a porn award.
It’s a direct hit. Seokjin winces, his expression showing you in no uncertain terms just how much he wants you. He’s practically fucking you with his eyes, pleading with you to take him, let him cum for you. You can feel how wet you are, panties soaked, your body crying out to sit astride him and let in every inch of that magnificent cock into you and ride him until you milk him for every drop. You wanted to know how it felt to have him fuck you whilst wearing those flattering sweats −you had to.
The thought spurs you on and you suck harder at his cock, hearing yourself moan, your hands stroking him simultaneously as you feel him harden further, engorged and full enough to burst. The humming sound of your moan vibrates through his shaft, and he calls your name as if in a trance. With immense concentration, you break into a rhythm, your head bobbing up and down, fingers massaging at his balls, hand tightening at his base to stroke him. You know you’re pushing him hard from the salacious sounds he is producing and the sheer level of broken, frenzied cursing that accompanies it.
“Y/N−,” he calls tautly, head snapping forward to look down at you, watching as you work him, fucking him with your mouth. “I’m close, baby. It feels so good… don’t stop−.”
You meet his eyes, opting to let him inside you even deeper so that every time your head goes forward to meet the slight rut of his hips, the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, edging him at your own pace. Seokjin’s eyes roll up in his head as the pleasure engulfs him, fingers gripping at the hem of his sweatshirt in desperation, hips jolting, his cock twitching against your lips as a fresh load of precum seeps out across your tongue.
Feeling him tense up, you know he’s close again, so you pull back without warning, his cock slipping out of the grip of your mouth with a distinct pop. He groans like a man in pain, anguish in his eyes as he stares down at you questioningly. “No, baby−,” he whines, biting at his lip and pouting, “Why did you stop? I was so close.”
His duality was really something.
You place a soft kiss at the tip of his still raging erection, which from the way Seokjin’s body judders involuntarily is super sensitive from your ministrations. With the lightest of touches, you stroke him a couple of times, keeping eye contact. He bucks up into your hand, chasing more friction, wanting to have the finish your touch had been promising.
But it was too soon. As much as you wanted him, you wanted to play with him a little before you took him on the home strait.
“Not just yet,” you coo.
Seokjin’s eyes narrow animalistically, his expression stern and predatory. As if you didn’t know he could have you on your back in seconds if he wanted, pinned down under his weight, cock pressing at your opening as he kisses into you like a man possessed.
“Y/N,” he breathes raggedly, eyes flashing dangerously. “You’ll be sorry if you don’t finish what you started.”
You love when Seokjin sounds masterful, it never failed to arouse you. This time was no different, and desire pools low in your stomach, building with pressure, waiting like a dam to explode. Your cunt aches for him, the emptiness you long for him to fill prevalent between your legs.
You hum appreciatively against his cock, the vibrations driving him wild. “Is that right?” you ask teasingly.
Your mouth hovers by his straining cock, millimeters away from the heat of his skin, tantalizing and torturous. Seokjin looks down at you, and you smirk back, running your fingertip over his wet slit, eliciting another deep groan from him. He looks wrecked for you, his breathing erratic, pupils blown and desperation in his glassy eyes.
“You want−.”
You don’t get to finish your sentence because in an instant, you feel Seokjin’s hand around the back of your neck and your mouth fills with his cock. You find yourself compliant as your jaws obediently open, tongue out flat as you allow him inside fully, once more hitting the back of your throat. The way he fucks into you has your body yearning like crazy for him, your cunt fluttering and constricting, need constantly building. Your moans increase as his relentless thrusts continue and you hear him grunt determinedly.
The salty tang of his precum was in every part of your mouth now, flooding into your senses as your mouth is overrun with saliva which leaks around his cock as swallowing becomes harder.
“That’s right, baby,” Seokjin sighs roughly, voice edged with barely held restraint as he quickens up, fisting into your hair roughly. “−Take it all.”
Your eyes close, concentration setting at your brows as you continue to fight the urge to choke on the sheer size of his cock. Your hand comes up to assist, wrapping around his thick base to alleviate some of the ache in your jaw, and he groans salaciously as he looks down at you. What a sight it must be, his sweatpants around his ankles, his hardness all the way in your mouth, lips stretched to capacity around it as your hand wrapped around the base, tears spilling from beneath the corners of your lashes as you pleasure him repeatedly.
His arousal stiffens between your lips yet more, swelling more, growing more rigid and impatient with each swirl of your tongue, each swipe over his flowing slit, thirsting for the taste of him with every motion. The sounds he is making are in turn rising your pleasure to an unimaginable point, your clit throbbing as you hear his shuddering, soft breaths. You ache to be touched as your arousal soaks through your panties. You start to feel the compelling need for some relief of your own, and slowly you edge your other hand down and under your skirt, searching for the apex of your thighs and your needy, wet cunt.
But Seokjin is quick to notice and clearly has other ideas because he quickly catches your hand, lifting it away from yourself with a gentle, chiding tut. “No, baby—” he hums, his tone composed even if breathless. “This is what you were after, wasn’t it, hm?”
His cock slides out of your mouth with a soft pop, glistening with your saliva and his precum, as your eyes open to look up at him pleadingly. He looks even more beautiful now. Like some ethereal angel with sweet, berry lips and teasing eyes that stare back at you, dark with desire. And just like that he’s back in control.
“Seokjin, please,” you murmur, relinquishing your power fast, hearing the crack in your voice as you abandon any sense of pride in favor of wanting him so fucking bad. “I need you.”
He tilts your face up with the crook of his finger, his cock jutting alluringly mere inches from your mouth. “I know, baby,” he smirks. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”
You nod, your own desperation heightened. Those fucking grey sweats, they would be ruination of you. You take him in, all broad shoulders, fuck me eyes, bee-stung lips and ride-me cock. Kim Seokjin could fuck you six ways from Sunday anytime he wanted, and you would let him with a smile on your face.
“Come here,” he commands, one hand wrapping around the base of his thick, hard cock. He strokes it a couple of times, eyes on you, knowing how weak you were for seeing him touch himself. He pats his thigh with his other hand, gesturing with his head for you to climb astride. “Take off your panties and come and get what you wanted.”
You don’t need asking twice.
In the blink of an eye, you slide down your underwear and hitch up your skirt. You straddle him, arms curling around those beautiful broad shoulders, fingers finding the soft strands of hair at his nape. He cups your ass, raising you up slightly, the head of his cock touching your wet cunt and eliciting an excited whine from you.
You reach out to push his hair away from his forehead, watching as it falls back into place in that boyishly untidy way that makes you yearn more for him. As your fingers continue to stroke down his face slowly, his eyes never leave yours, heavy-lidded with desire and darkening just like an approaching night. He’s so aroused, face flushed, breathing quick, colour tinging his cheeks and his skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat.
You lean forward and steal a soft kiss from his beautifully swollen, plush pink lips. “I want you,” you whisper, your mouth hovering against his, lips just touching his teasingly, the tip of your nose nudging at his.
Your hips circle around his crotch, applying pressure as you rock on his lap in a steady rhythm. You’re soaked, you know it, and he’s hard as hell, his cock straining dangerously towards you. You moan gently when you hear the primal, guttural sound that escapes him as you slide your wetness against him.
Your head dips into his neck, inhaling the scent of his skin as you press kisses at the vein that protrudes at the side. “Jin—,” you murmur needily just by his ear.
Seokjin unravels entirely, and before you can even register what is happening, he reaches down to wrap a hand around his cock with an urgent hiss. He strokes himself a couple of times before cupping your ass and hurriedly lifting you away from him for a second.
When he brings you down again, you feel the head of his cock push against your folds. “I need to be inside you,” Seokjin says hotly. “Now!”
His words thrill you as you reach down to guide him to your opening, sliding his cockhead between your wet lips back and forth before you position him at your soaked, fluttering hole. Slowly you start to ease yourself down as he brackets your hips, lowering you onto his erection.
“Fuck—” you whisper fervently, already feeling the way his cock had started to stretch your insides. He’s so big that your body tenses for a second, but he perseveres, each inch edging into you torturously slowly.
“Take it,” Seokjin coaxes, kissing at your mouth heatedly. “Take it all.”
“Mm… oh God,” you murmur weakly as you push down further, voice taut with arousal. You bury your face into his neck, inhaling the masculine scent of his skin, your cheek nuzzling at the soft material of the collar of his sweatshirt. “You make me feel so full!”
His fingers grip into your ass, applying more pressure as he grinds into you deeper. “Yeah?” he whispers hotly by your ear. “You like that?” You moan in response as he nicks at your skin with his teeth. “That’s my girl,” he coos. “Take what you need, baby. I want to feel you cum for me.”
Need fills your core, rushing you forward as you bear down onto his engorged, delicious cock. Pain mixes with pleasure as he fills you, taking every inch of you bit by bit in a commanding invasion. You throw your head back, lust burning every part of you unquenchably as you take in the exquisite sensation of stretching tightness holding him inside you. There’s such a thrill in knowing a part of him was inside you so deep in your most intimate part.
“Seokjin!” you breathe, fingers digging into his back through his sweatshirt.
“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs hotly. “—You’re so tight. So good.”
You tremble at his words. Had you felt like you could allocate more time to this encounter, you would have pulled it off him, but such was your need all you wanted was him inside you. If the damn sweatshirt stayed on, so be it. As long as his cock was inside you.
His lips claim yours just as you take the final inch, his entire cock sheathed by your walls, hard and swollen, a weapon waiting to be unleashed inside you. You moan into his mouth as your body gets used to the feel of his cock, walls holding him in place as he pulls you closer to him. Your breasts rest flush against his chest, feeling the heat of his body through your clothes.
“Feel good?” he whispers, biting at your lips.
“Mm,” you hum, lost in your own pleasure as you begin to rock your hips against him softly.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, hands at your waist, steering you, guiding your motions in a slow rhythm. “Can you feel me?”
“Yes!” you cry as your walls grip at his length tightly, searching for the pleasure he gives you in that sweet spot within you.
You bite at his shoulder as he bucks up unexpectedly hard with a sharp, quick thrusting rut. It feels so fucking good, this man’s cock should be illegal.
“Do you want to cum on my cock?” he says, plush lips at the hollow of your throat. “You want to be a slut for me? Wanting me this bad, hm?”
One of his hands makes its way between you, fingers locating your throbbing bud where he strokes at it gently in quick circular motions that make you dizzy with want. “Seokjin!” you can’t help but cry out, hands digging into his hair, tugging at his scalp.
“Yes, baby,” he replies heatedly, sucking at your neck now, hard enough you know the bruise will be prominent. He looks back at you with feigned innocent chocolate eyes darkened with desire, “—You want something?”
You don’t care. You want him to devour you. You can’t focus on a single thought as your cunt flutters and pulses hungrily around his engorged length. He fucks into you harder, quickening the pace, knowing exactly how to hit it right. The head of his cock meets your cervix, rubbing with maddening friction at your pleasure point with accuracy and purpose.
You hear Seokjin’s breathing grow more ragged as you intensify your own movements, riding his cock in matching rhythm. You can feel your pleasure mounting, the pressure intensifying within, the taut thread on its way to snapping as you feel yourself being speared repeatedly on his erection. The feeling is deliciously exquisite and so fucking hot you can’t imagine anyone could ever arouse you more than Seokjin does.
You wanted him forever. You wanted him to be the one you married. You wanted his cock to be the only one you ever let inside you for all eternity. He was everything to you, and he had ruined you beyond repair for everyone else.
“Jin!” you moan again, “You feel so good inside me…” You sound inebriated on the pleasure he was giving you, your walls gripping him harder, squeezing against the heated, hard flesh inside you. “God, Jin— I want you.”
His lips capture yours, wet and warm, tongue engaging with yours as his thumb continues to apply pressure on your clit. You moan into his mouth, utterly delirious, uncaring how needy you were. The pleasure is so good that you bite at his plump bottom lip with a sharp cry. You hear Seokjin groan, his cock twitching inside you as he thrusts upwards with a little more force.
“Careful, baby,” he warns breathlessly against your mouth in-between kisses, “You’re going to drive me wild.”
The sensations of his demanding cock and his delicious warning are overwhelming, his cock embedded all the way inside you, hitting at your cervix to deliver intense waves of rising ecstasy with every single one. You lift a hand to his face, fingers drawn towards his swollen lips, and you stroke your thumb across his mouth.
How could somebody be so perfectly beautiful? Nobody even came close. Your hips circle slower for a moment as you take in the sight of him, enjoying the feeling of his thick length snugly inside you.
“Don’t stop, baby,” Seokjin murmurs, hands finding your breasts over your blouse, palming over them, his fingers climbing up to find the buttons and undoing one quickly. “I won’t be responsible for my actions if you do.”
He gives you a deep thrust upwards, one you swear you can feel all the way up in your chest and you cry out his name, yanking at his sweatshirt, fisting the material as you hold onto him, leaning back so he can finish opening the remainder of your buttons and ease your blouse apart. Impatiently he pulls down your bra, groaning at the sight of your exposed breasts, nipples protruding against the cool air, inviting his mouth down onto them.
It’s all him in control now, as you sit speared on his huge, thick cock, completely at his mercy as he pulls one breast into the heat of his wet, hungry mouth and begins to suck at you. You push down with your hips, one hand reaching up around the back of his head to press it against your chest, always seeking more.
“Jin,” you whimper, the lashings of pleasure that are being delivered all over your body, outside and inside, taking hold of you and bending you to his will.
“You want this?” he hums, teeth catching your nipple between them and giving you a gentle tug. “Like that?”
“Please, baby—”
He looks at you, his eyes tempestuously dark, past the point of return as he watches you writhe on his lap impatiently. He takes your hands in his, fingers entwining with yours as he holds your gaze. “Ride me,” he commands. “You want it? You take what you need baby.”
You don’t need asking a second time. You lift yourself up slowly from his cock until he’s almost wholly out of you, but you don’t let him pull out fully. You look down at him, seeing the glaze of his eyes as he stares up at you, the light sheen of sweat that adorns his honey skin, the sweet part of his plush swollen lips from which the softest, most salacious breaths escape. He’s so fucking pretty. So utterly, devastatingly alluring.
“Jin,” you whisper, and in the same breath, you slide yourself back down onto him with urgency, the wetness of your cunt making the motion relatively effortless as your walls squeeze around him.
Seokjin groans loudly as you come down flush onto his lap, his fingers gripping yours tightly. You don’t wait as you repeat the same move, your hips beginning to circle around him as you do it again, and then again, quickening with each drop. He’s so stiff inside you as you ride him, your heat holding him deliciously as you chase your nearing climax. Harder and faster you go, spearing yourself onto him repeatedly, your hands leaving his to grasp at his broad shoulders.
He cups your breasts, weighing them in his palms appreciatively as he watches them bounce with your movements, so aroused now he can barely think straight. He doesn’t even notice when your nails dig into his back, doesn’t care that even through the fabric you would leave marks on his skin.
He brings one hand between you, thumbing over your glistening clit that shines with slick. “Fuck, baby,” he moans. “You’re perfect.”
His praise buoys you and you quicken a little more, feeling that tight coil within you start to wind tauter, knowing the snap would come sooner rather than later. You can feel the head of his cock slam against your cervix, right at your sweet spot, over and over. You’ve never felt anything quite like it, your mind obsessing with the exquisite way he fills you so satisfyingly. Better than any vibrator.
And then he’s kissing you, his wet, hot tongue sliding against yours, probing into your mouth as his hands bracket your hips to assist. You kiss him back wildly, shamelessly moaning now, the pleasure growing inside you. You feel consumed and invaded by him, he’s everything. All you see, all you feel, all you want and all you would ever want. You concentrate on the way he stretches you, occupying every single inch of your most intimate part, feeling as if he had impaled himself so deep into you that he was in your stomach.
Your eyes open only briefly, just to see him. Your beautiful man, desperately holding on for you, knowing he was hanging on to every shred of restraint he had as you hover on the brink. He bites at your lip hard, his tongue flicking across the spot to soothe you and you yelp, the pain and pleasure together a heady mix that has you lingering on the last few seconds of the edge.
“Oh God,” you whine, feeling him thrust upwards to meet you as you bear down on him, his cock driving into you just right as his thumb applies just the correct amount of pleasure onto your sensitive bud. “—Jin! Fu—”
“That’s it, baby,” he coos. “Let it go for me.”
You can feel every single inch of him inside you, tearing you apart with his huge cock, and you love it. Your body tenses on the final approach as one more time you lift up and sink down onto him.
It’s over, and all you can manage to whisper is his name as you shatter spectacularly around him. The slick of your arousal pools out over him and out, running down over his thighs and over his cock in a heated mess. His gray sweats weren’t going to survive this encounter scot-free.
“That’s my girl,” Seokjin breathes as he continues to fuck you through your climax. “You feel so fucking good.”
It isn’t long before you feel him harden inside you momentarily, before his cock twitches and pulses against your still convulsing walls, ropes of hot liquid spurting out into you as he finishes with a series of salacious grunts. You love watching him finish, seeing that rapture caught on his face when he finally lets go, bringing your barely recovered body back to life again.
When you are both eventually done, your body slackens against his, his head buried against your chest as you stroke his hair. You love the feel of him like this, so soft yet strong, his breathing slowly returning to normal as he holds you against him as if he never wants to let you go.
You place a kiss at the top of his head. “Jin,” you call gently.
He looks up with a slow smile. You will never tire of how beautiful he is, you could look at him for a million lifetimes and never get bored. His cock is still inside you, still not completely softened yet, and you wish you could keep him inside you forever.
“Hmm?” he says lazily, his expression sated and sweet. “What’s up, baby?”
“I think I’ve messed up your sweats,” you tell him, biting at your lip.
He chuckles. “That was your real intention all along, wasn’t it?” he teases. “You took issue with my outfit the moment you came back.”
You nudge him playfully. “As much as I would love to take credit for that, this” —you gesture between you both— “wasn’t exactly in my plans.”
He steals a kiss from your lips with a smile. “This was definitely better,” he tells you. “Fuck the sweats.”
You kiss him back, arms winding around his neck. “Yeah, fuck—” You stop, suddenly feeling movement inside you, and realize that he’s stirring again. You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. “No way!” you exclaim. “You can’t be—"
Seokjin smirks knowingly. “Oh, I can, baby,” he hums, hands sliding up your thighs. “You owe me.”
“What?” you say incredulously. “What on earth for?”
He grins. “New sweats, baby,” he says, before his lips claim yours.
⋮ ⌗ ┆概要⨾ maybe you ask for too much, but seokjin always delivers.
金硕珍 𝔁 𝒻 .ᐟ读者 ── 1.4k
explicit content ⋆ smut (mdni)、condescending dom!seokjin、sub!reader、established relationship、degradation/humilation、unprotected sex (don't do this)、hung!jin、(slight) size & bulge kink、hints of pain kink、 dacryphilia、manhandling、mating press position、mentions of oral sex (f. rec)、petnames used: baby、princess. ⌇ℳ.list
⋮ ⌗ ┆便条⨾ i can explain 😅 see, your old hyperfixations don't die, they just lay dormant until it's their time to shine again. and even though i'd do something STRANGE for jungkook, jin is just compelling in ways that don't quiet my brain too. it also doesn't help that i've scrolled past one too many tweets about him being uhm, well endowed so...here's my filth, from me to you. a thought that wouldn't escape my brain for weeks and apparently needed to be shared? anyways...i hope someone enjoys this 😭 much loveeeee! <333
Self-sabotage must bloom from within you.
Sprout and sow its roots into you, slow and steady, unsuspecting with a growing sinisterness blamed on something else ─ discipline scarcity, forgetfulness, an unseriousness you'd made more of a joke than stated, your laugh hollowed in its tail end as the weight of consequences push against your chest, crushing ribs and whistling wheezes. You wouldn't say it's terribly detrimental, some of your greatest life lessons are learned through your least loved trait. Life goes on anyways, whether you're your best friend or worst enemy and in those lulls, Jin remains stable. Unwavering. Much like he is now, as you tremble under his weight.
He's one of your life's nicest surprises ─ unexpected, serious and with a heart like no other. It makes your brain stutter, lashes batted in increments because what warrants this? You're trudging through life, changes here and there made for your betterment but up to no standard of your own. Not that you're undeserving of him, but at least what you'd read in fictional tales and romantic poems, you thought you would've met him at a better place. In a better version of you, the one that doesn't need body doubling to get anything done, the kind of person who doesn't blank when asked about who they are, what they like. They're all too big of questions, ones you have answers for but somehow feel like don't fit into conversation ─ like they belong to a former life of yours, or don't deserve the platform at all. With time, and in no time at all, Jin fills in the blanks. Draw conclusions of you ringing too close to home, a prickle of unnerve at your nape for your fear of perception. Yet, you yearn. Yearn for love and to be seen, even in the dark crevices of yourself and in true Jin fashion, he loves you through it all.
Doesn't mind the clutter when things get bad, when your joke's fall flat or the glossiness of your eyes coming with an impending burst of your chest. Unconditional is the love he holds for you, a something that cannot be revoked or misplaced by over-thought actions or a lack of words. Pressure conjures in his palm, soft yet heavy against your hand's back, a wobbled corner of your lips lifted given before another hand swallows the back of your head, your face burying into his chest. A metallic taste decorates your palate, teeth sunk into your bottom lip in a mask of your wails, a poor attempt if anything before the dam breaks.
You could say you find yourself in a similar situation now. That same too-big feeling in your chest, lungs burning with the breath you forget to take with a vision becoming blurry. It's overwhelm ─ less horrific, with the beginnings of pleasure as you let out a winced whimper, lips clamped into a pale after.
"Look at how good you're doing," Jin coos, love in his eyes while they hang low, glued to where you connect. "How perfect you are taking me."
Sheets ruffle, a muffled moan at your throat's back before you pant in desperation, a simmered sting in your eyes and between your legs as Jin feeds inches of himself into you. Knuckles burn white, your dropped chin futile in your chanced look down below, unsure how much more length you can take before you're split open.
The inches grind to a halt, a burial to your hilt that has your teeth baring, a keen chocked back whilst your body burns furnace levels hot. Your ears ring like church bells, eyes blinked purposely to clear your vision's haze as your body adjusts to his size, clenching and squirming to his detriment.
He's gracious about it ─ as he is everything ─ not fucking into you like some rapid beast kept away in his chest. The lid of cement contains it, some cracks and frays but nothing sizable enough to hurt you.
Not in any way you wouldn't like, of course.
All glossy eyed with a pant that doesn't cease, your voice finds its sound, vocalise your affirmations accompanied by a nod and with a short pause, a double check for your welfare, Seokjin moves.
He groans, you whimper. Your toes curl with all the lust pooled in your stomach pushed to clog your throat, a feeling of fullness your body doesn't recognise but clings to, even in a dull seethe of pain, reaches out for hints of ecstasy. The more he moves ─ draws his hips back, slick echoing off four walls and announced when he plunges back in ─ the more it's accessible. The more you live for it, back of your head rolling against a pillow's plush as a galaxy dances across your eyes, your moans louder than your ear's rushed blood.
"Aren't you lucky that I'm the one to ruin you and no one else?" Jin offers, tone bathed in that lick of condescend you clench at. The grin's shit-eating on his face as he feels the inevitable squeeze, a harder jut of his hips a crack in his composure. He collects, then carries on.
"I took my sweet time with you too, made you come thrice on my mouth before you felt brave enough."
Shadowed in the lowlights of your bedroom, his body magnetizes closer to yours, fingers undoing your duvet grip and weaving his with yours. All with hips at an impossible angle, one that feels like more inches you've had to accommodate for, friction burn on your heels as they glide hot against the duvet, body too small for his dispensed pleasure.
"Tell me," the whisper dances in your ears, bottom lip grazed against the flesh with a slight labour to his breath. It's the single most erotic thing you've ever heard. "Is it worth it, princess? Feeling me in all the way in your stomach?"
"Y─" you choke on enthusiasm, the tears in your eyes pushed past their waterline and down your warm cheeks, lips squeaking out the obvious. "Yes."
"Aren't you sweet?" you hear his smile before seeing it, his face hauntingly beautiful as his pelvis hits the back of your thighs again and again. It spins your head dizzy. "Even sweeter when you're crying for me,"
A kiss bestows the skin of your cheek, what feels like a hint of his tongue catching the last drop of your tear before his fingers squeeze against yours in a series of three ─ I. Love. You.
A sob hurtles out your throat, contained in the cross of moans pouring out in generosity, the piston of his hips, feel of his skin and cycle of his breaths making a mess of your body and mind.
"It's okay, baby," his fingers untwine, the hover of his chest not as imminent while his body heat vacates, your legs handled and propped to the stretch of his shoulders. "You know nothing but pleasure with me."
And you do. Even with its beginnings of pain, all nothing but a vague memory as he folds you, your thigh's flesh braced to your chest as his bodyweight bares into into their back. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as you become untamed, voice's volume foreign to your ears as he chases you off a cliff, his thrusts pushing your head off the pillow and into your headboard. It smacks, your bed creaks, crying with the overwhelm you feel, body with no choice but to suffer the consequences of your actions. Your insistence that you can take it. To your credit, you do, but to an undoing of yourself you cannot overwrite. Ruined by him for anyone else and you wouldn't have it any other way, your tears kissed away before Jin's lips find yours, a kiss of death as your orgasm explodes through the cells of your body.
What crosses your mind once the fog clears, when your body's back on Earth and you're more human is that you wish you watched. Saw the tip of him signal beneath your lower stomach's skin, the rosy flush fill the shell of his ears, the growing desperation Jin really can't hold back with you before he ruts into you. Letting go, giving you his everything.
You wish you could've seen it all.
Lucky for you, your boyfriend is nothing but willing. A cautious look given before his eyes widen at your legs linking around him, crossing at the small of his back. He laughs then, breathy and low-toned, licking arousal up your spine before he goes again, the feeling of fullness less thought of as self-sabotage and more like love.
thank you for reading! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated.ᐟ ᰔ
title: yoongi’s interlude: fugue (pt. 4)
pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)
series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken pt. 1 | broken pt. 2 | fugue pt. 1 | fugue pt. 2 | fugue pt. 3
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au
summary: he would do anything for you, even if that means leaving your light... to venture into his dark.
note: fugue—in music, a compositional procedure characterized by the systematic imitation of a principal theme in simultaneously sounding melodic lines ; a state or period of loss of awareness of one's identity, often coupled with flight from one's usual environment.
note 2: we are finally, finally here. the fourth and last part of yoongi’s second interlude. it’s heavy, it’s deep, and there’s even new main storyline content at the end. 3tan is right back to our main schedule now and seriously i could cry (okay spoiler alert i did lol)
warnings: language, tension, reader being the baddest, chains :)) bc why wouldn't there be!!, kissing as a warning, yoongi pov of The Scene, and another yoongi pov of Another Scene, emotional moments, a certain character makes an appearance??, main story content weewooweewoo, fluff, so much fluff, there's just so much in here
nsfw warnings: under the cut!
drop date: april 7th, 2026, 7:17pm est
word count: 12.5k :))
nsfw warnings: yoongi nsfw pov :))), oral (f rec), unprotected, choking, slapping, egging on because it's yoongi, multiple orgasms, ......love making................., protected, multiple rounds bc they're in fuckin' love what can i SAY!, yoongi's mouth is a warning?, reader's reactions are also a warning??, anyway, chains again, and so much care too<33
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You ignore him and get right to work. And he feels like absolute shit.
Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you running? Why are you choosing to stay when he’s been nothing but ice cold?
Garbage bag in hand, you waste no time gathering up his mania. Do you even see the blood? Do you not care about what just happened?
No. It’s not that you don’t care.
It’s that you care too much.
Instead of leaving him to drown, you dive in right after him, swimming deeper and deeper and not caring about saving yourself. And as Yoongi can only stand there, he feels unable to move. Unable to breathe. Waiting for you to turn around and go back up for air but you don’t and it’s killing him.
It’s when you come back with a broom that he finally snaps into action, gripping your hand that holds the handle and exhaling at your hot touch.
You’re too good to him. “Stop.”
“No.”
Which makes this so fucking hard to watch. “Just go, please.”
“No.”
Fuck. Your stubbornness stabs into his chest. Over, and over, Yoongi can’t bear to have you witness this yet he’s pained just begging you to leave. It’s layers and layers of hurt and frustration but you. Keep. Swimming.
Don’t drown with him. Don’t follow him into the dark.
The crinkle of glass surrounds your feet and it’s too much to bear. He can’t even feel his toes he feels so numb, but having you see all of this pains him to no end because he’d been trying so hard to keep this side of himself from your welling eyes.
How foolish.
But if you’re gonna stay, at least let him clean his own shit. Aren’t you supposed to be home? At Yuri’s? Your brother is just as cut and banged up as he is, shouldn’t you be there with him instead? “I got it.”
“Let me do it.”
“Your brother needs you.”
“Yeah, well, I already tore the fuck into him and I’m gonna do the same to you.” As you yank the broom further from his control, you growl out a command so potent Yoongi can’t even push back, “So sit down.”
Sit down? He’d rather do anything else right now. Kiss you. Make you leave. Grab hold of you and never go anywhere else.
In the end, he can’t do shit. Because you’re a beautiful tempest and he’s letting your storm run free in his living room. It’s for good, for good, for good. Fuck, everything hurts. This is all for good.
That is all he can tell himself before dumping his battered body at his dining table.
With each piece you pick up, one by one, you clean out his wounds, you suck up the pain that’s festered for so long with tear-soaked cheeks and spit it all out with your quiet rage.
The adrenaline from facing serious injury and possibly something worse still courses through Yoongi’s veins. He can’t even sit still, fidgeting in his chair and raking shaky hands through damp strands.
With one look at your face scrunched with worry, he can’t take it anymore. You have to leave. You have to, have to, have to. Caging you next to his dining table, he stops your strides with finality. “You’ve done enough.”
“I still need to—”
“Just.” He looks away from your tears. “Go home, doll. I can’t do this tonight.”
“Do what? I’m helping you.”
If nothing else is working? There is one way to do this. A way that will change how you perceive him and not in a positive light at all. Light would require at least some semblance of warmth or care. This solution is completely void of it.
It’s only five words. Only six syllables. But all of them sting and poison him on the way out, because this is downright caustic,
“Who said I needed it?”
You immediately recoil.
Shit, shit, shit, this isn’t him. This is fucking ludicrous but he can’t stop himself from surging forward with muck on his legs.
“Yoongi, what? Are you serious?”
“You think I’m joking?”
“You’re kicking me out? What happened to saying you’d never do that, huh?”
“I say a lot of things.”
Fuck. That wasn’t what he…
…Fuck.
Well. That’s it then. You’re smart, way smarter than you give yourself credit for. Which means you’ll pick up on that vibrant red flag he just swung with both arms and abandon him completely tonight.
Nodding, you look away, shaking your head in a way that tells him he’s two seconds from getting snapped into pieces. And Yoongi knows he damn well deserves it. “You know what? You do say a lot of things.”
Walking away, you start to… organize his things? “Like how perfect I am.” You keep going, shifting things around with a tone so alarming his heart may have beat a little. “And how there’s no one else.”
After a second, you face him again. And it seems like you are wanting to sling heat around too because you know what you’re saying isn’t true and it’s pissing him off. “Those are just words, too, huh?”
You are perfect. There is no one else.
If those were just words he wouldn’t have risked his life to—
What a fucking shit show. He can’t speak of what went down tonight so this is going nowhere.
With this insane dilemma looming over his head, Yoongi is fully aware his next laugh is anything but nice. “Nah… Not tonight.”
“Not tonight what.”
“We aren’t doing this tonight.”
“The fuck we aren’t. Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” Yoongi shifts his head, hiding the very obvious cuts that he’s starting to feel more and more the longer this scathing verbal sparring goes on. “But you’re going home.”
Laced in this silence, there’s still rage. There’s still passion, and it’s a fine line because he hates himself for getting to this point and he doesn’t understand why you’re still here and won’t leave him. So stubborn, so like him, so unbelievably loyal and good and everything he needs to be.
But you say something that lights his chest and kicks his brain into gear, because he can’t even believe you continue with complete nonsense,
“So this is how it happens, huh. Now I’m just like everyone else.”
Both feet firmly planted and shoulders rising a little higher, Yoongi faces you head on, feeling the most alert he’s been since you rushed in. The fire in his chest licks at his lungs, propelling smoke all the way to his ears. “You’re gonna go there?”
Your response is immediate. “I am.”
And it takes everything inside of him to not explode. Treating you like everyone else? You know that’s bullshit. So if you’re just saying all this to fuck with him, it’s fucking working. The only thing he can come back with is a single syllable because if he says anything else, it’s gonna lead to hell fast. “Wow.”
Suddenly, you dig into the offensive, the chasm between the two of you shaking under the weight of your argument, “You think I wanted to come here? After what all of you did?”
“Do you even know?”
“No! But how the fuck would I? You don’t tell me shit!”
“That’s cus—”
Fire spews from your lips, scorching everything at his feet and rendering him speechless yet again, “I can take care of myself. But none of you told me about that dude from the court. None of you.”
Fuck. Yoongi knows this, he’s the one that started this whole conversation in Jimin’s car—
“If I had known? That whole Dalo thing could’ve been avoided and I would’ve ran.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. It’s all coming back. Everything he did led to this, including not telling you shit, and you’re more hurt than he even imagined. The self-loathing has reached a new high, and he can feel blood from where his teeth bite into his tongue.
Didn’t he just kill the shadow in his room? Why is he still struggling to breathe?
“And today? You know how fucking scared I was? If I… I…”
Yoongi can’t do anything but stare, and stare, and stare some more.
He’d been so focused on getting you out of there and keeping everyone safe that he didn’t even think about how afraid you were. How terrified you were after you left in screams and tears that he can still hear ringing about his head.
“You know what?” Your empty laugh sends shivers to his fingertips. “Forget it. You’re not even listening anyway.”
And Yoongi finally snaps with another flitter of sparks. Because he is and he knows but this isn’t how he wants to speak to you. Not with a canyon of hurt and desperation between your hearts. “I swear to—I just said not tonight.”
“No, I get it. I do! You want me gone. Sure. See you in three more months.”
…What?
No. No, no, no, that’s not what he means. You gotta take him at face value. He just means not tonight so you don’t have to see him at his lowest and he doesn’t want to show this monstrous side of him that’s hurting you all over again. “Are you serious?”
But why would you take him at face value? Why would you give him any slack right now? He sure as fuck doesn’t deserve it with the way he’s treating you. Fuck, he’s even slipping on things he would never do. What the fuck is wrong with him?
“Yes, I am. Trying to help you but it looks like you don’t even want that. So good fucking bye.”
This is what he wants, right? This is what he was fighting you for this entire time? He got what he wanted. You’re going back up for air.
Now he just has to seal your decision the only way he can. Because nothing else has worked so far and he’s been too cowardly—or just fucking sensical—to go here.
But with a vice clamped around his lungs, he does. Blackout shutters around his soul, Yoongi utters a sentence he would never, in any other circumstance, ever say to you. A question that sends white hot tears to the corners of his tired eyes.
“Who asked you?”
Ice fills the chasm between.
Your eyes penetrate into the deepest parts of him, staring him down like he’s a stranger and rightfully so because this isn’t him. Fuck, this isn’t—this isn’t him and he is crumbling into ashes at your feet but he can’t bear to let you witness him like this another second.
When your response shakes, Yoongi feels his heart give out. “Who asked me? Who asked me.”
This is the hardest thing he’s ever done in his life. “That’s what I said.”
How is he still on both feet when you’re looking at him like that? Your silence carves out his heart, but this is how to finally get you to leave. To run. To rid yourself of this burden sinking him lower, and lower, and lower.
“You know what? Kiss my ass, Yoongi.”
Rock bottom. It hurts.
None of the hits he took tonight compare to the anguish this is putting him through. Absolutely nothing will. Yoongi is starting to fight out of his own chains because he can’t stand being in them.
The damage has already been done but he’s drowning now. Get out. Claw a way out!
Dead silence rings in his ears, reaching a stinging buzz and crashing into the sound of rain and thunder. His body is thrashing out of his mind and clawing a way to the surface.
But you drift further. And further. And further. The waves between you both crest high and fall fast, and Yoongi’s vision swims as he sways. You’re almost gone. Good. Good. You’re almost gone for good.
…For good?
No. No no no, that’s the farthest thing from good fuck fuck fuck.
Yoongi can’t even recall his body tearing through the ocean of his living room so fast but he’s already at the door, slamming it shut and grasping your body for dear life. It all happens so swiftly that his fingers catch between your back and solid wood, his nails stinging from the pain and his ears ringing from your outright shouting—
“God, what the fuck! I told you to—We didn’t hear from you for hours and I—I didn’t know if you were okay—”
The heart in his chest plummets with each weak thump of your hands. “Whoa, hold u—”
“I thought the worst and I—didn’t even get a chance to—I finally told you want I wanted and you—Fuck—”
Yoongi’s finally alert. He’s awake. He’s staying afloat and now he needs to pull you ashore because you are flailing in your own current of emotion. It takes everything for him to think straight and just get you to— “Just listen—”
“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t wanna lose you and today was so fucking scary and I’m not, fucking, leaving—”
Thank god.
Doing the one thing that may shut you up and quell your worries, Yoongi smashes his lips against yours, pushing into you so hard water leaks from his eyes. Because you still have to go at some point, which means this could be his last taste in a long time. “I swear to—”
You almost lost him.
Which means he almost left you behind.
What the fuck is he doing fighting you?
Anger from today and frustration with himself seize the reins, and he yanks you back to have you against another wall. There’s madness skimming along his bones and firing in his bloodstream. And Yoongi welcomes all the energy you’re unleashing in return, raking through his hair and his skin and blowing his eyes all the way out.
He doesn’t even recognize his voice as he rips out a question, “Can’t fucking listen, can you?”
“No.”
When you shove him back, Yoongi can feel his soul go obsidian, welcoming the way you tug him into a ravaging kiss, tearing at your clothes because he can’t stand to be even one layer beyond your skin.
What the fuck is happening? You have to leave. Didn’t he just fight for you to go? What’s his body doing? Suddenly his hand is around your throat and his heart booms at the spark in your eyes. Fuck, he needs you. Fucking hell, why do you have to be so fucking devoted? “Shouldn’t even fucking be here.”
“When has that ever stopped us.”
Don’t say shit like that.
Yoongi drags you backward and into his dining table, careful to not trip you up on the way. As much as he’s relishing your rebellion, there’s a part of him that’s still terrified. “He’s still home.”
“So?”
“Shouldn’t you—”
“Then kick me out!” His hand lets off your throat now. And for a second, he can’t speak. “For real. Let me go. Fucking do it then.”
Gripping a bit tighter again, Yoongi gives out of control at your groan. Fucking shit, this is breaking him down so fast and you didn’t even have to do anything. All you had to do was defy his words and call every single fucking bluff he had.
Because he wanted nothing more than for you to be right here. Nothing else matters. Not the wounds on his body, not the catastrophe of his place, not the thunder and rain outside.
Only you. “You aren’t gonna leave me alone.”
You meet his eyes with fire.
“Are you.”
The look on your face tells him everything he needs to know. No words are exchanged as the atmosphere sparks and fizzles, and yet, Yoongi understands every single fucking word.
The moment you walked in, Yoongi had already lost. “Goddamn it.”
Giving into the most primal of urges, the most savage of needs, tension snaps with a burst of orange and red. Claws and fangs glint in the night, rage and passion clutching each other before crashing down together.
Devouring you and letting you have your way with him is ecstatic, a high, all consuming and Yoongi doesn’t know when anger morphs into desperation. But it does, it does, it does, and the outpouring of frustration and relief and realization that you’re here is draining him exactly how he wants.
Taking while being taken. Worshipping while being worshipped. Everything he’d been feeling over the last three months funnels into this very moment and spills out of his system like an open, gushing wound. Toxins and pain runneth over, releasing and freeing and letting his bones free to stretch and grow again. Though battered and bruised, Yoongi feels whole again. Like he never was, or always was? With you.
Was this all he had to do?
All he had to do was let you in?
You come undone, then you unravel beneath him again. The sight he thought he’d never see again unfolds in front of his very eyes and Yoongi drinks you in like a man starved on the brink of collapse. Maybe he still fucking is, because the burn he feels in his body won’t quell. The pain in his soul won’t ebb. The sobs in his ear won’t stop.
Wait, fuck fuck, that’s you? “Baby.”
You don’t quit, so he calls you again. And when nothing else works, Yoongi cracks out your name with a snap and grabs your chin to bring you back. Shit, he should’ve been paying attention.
Fuck, you look so exhausted. He knows he’s responsible for that pain in your eyes. That anguish in your brows. But Yoongi will deal with that once you’re coherent and present again.
It takes you a bit to come back to him, but you do like the strong, fierce one you are. Fuck, you’re incredible even in your weakest moments. Something he’s come to love and aspire to match.
When you beg him to not kick you out, Yoongi feels chains tug his heart taut. Pulled in so many directions, he feels the need to take deep breaths himself, and he’s so caught up in your pleas that he births a new nickname that has his brain spiraling,
“Breathe, angel.”
No time to think about that now. The only real explanation for him saying it out loud is the fact he’s thought it so many times his brain decided it needed to be set free.
You tell him he’s perfect the way he is, and Yoongi falters. Everything you say while in his arms and fighting tears will be burned in his memory forever, and he’ll let those words carry him onto softer shores, sparkling and welcoming just like you.
He doesn’t even realize he starts to cry until you tell him it’s okay. And he lets himself rest in the solace of your embrace until he remembers that you came in through the pouring rain.
When you offer to share the blame? That’s when Yoongi can’t fight it anymore. This beautiful, blooming soul in his arms is radiating enough light to wash away his darkness. He has no choice but to surrender to you—his life, his devotion, his everything.
Of course you would offer to share the blame. It’s so inherently you that Yoongi’s emotions run down with the shower spray, and he clutches onto you like life would stop as soon as he let go.
Water. Sunlight. Warmth.
From the mud in his chest, reaching up towards his beloved, Yoongi finally feels new life bloom.
—
—
Darkness no longer clouds the edges of his eyes, and he can see moonlight crisper and more ethereal than he’d ever seen it before. Washed ashore, lying still, and staring at a sea of stars, Yoongi thinks his view almost looks as pretty as you. But he realizes this is because it is you. He’s there in your eyes, amongst those flecks of light. It’s breathtaking. It’s…
You give him a tiny smile before turning to leave his bedroom. And Yoongi follows with his vision swimming.
This feeling…
You’re both in the kitchen now, his feet planted on warm tile as you grab your phone to do whatever’s in that beautiful brain of yours. God, you’re ethereal just standing there, so gorgeous, so present. His life’s most precious gift. “What shall we eat… Stew? Or, wait—”
Yoongi watches as you give him a once over. “Actually, let’s figure you out first.”
As you speak, he can’t offer anything. He can’t even move, because something is growing in his chest and it’s starting to feel like he’ll burst. “Okay, let’s see. You’re breathing fine, so no bruised ribs. Umm…”
This feeling… It’s an urge. It’s an irrevocable emotion.
It’s all you. All Yoongi sees is you. Light. Shine. Glow. The rainbow that came after the rain, casting color and new life into his dulled existence and clearing his mind of all sludge. His ribs are battered, but this has been the easiest he can breathe.
“It looks really bad there, though. You sure you can move right?”
How does that even make sense? How do you manage to make him second guess his life at every turn? He can be happy, even if it doesn’t make sense now.
Your radiance is just beyond his cracked, clawed walls, and this need to fight his way out is stronger than it’s ever been. You deserve his best. You want every piece of him.
Every version of him.
Throat burning and breath short, Yoongi runs across his mind, footsteps unimpeded towards the door he’s been waiting behind, clenching his fist around the knob and yanking it all the way open to pull himself through without resistance and turning towards the shimmering expanse across his eyes.
“Okay, so no bruised ribs, and according to this you don’t have any broken bones. And nothing fractured, either, thank god—”
And sunlight conquers the dark.
“I love you.”
You stop as soon as his heart thrums, pulsing with purpose, with the intention of keeping him full and alive because that’s exactly how he feels.
Alive.
You question what he says, but Yoongi doesn’t answer with words. The emotion pooling in his eyes will have to suffice, because if he says what he really wants to say? You’d probably run from how ahead of himself he really is.
So instead, surrounded by a kitchen that has seen the worst and best of him, Yoongi simply repeats out loud what’s been fact for months now,
“I love you, doll.”
It’s okay that you don’t move. It’s okay if you don’t say anything back.
He almost lost you. And you may have almost lost him had it not been for everyone else there. To even be able to confess is a blessing in itself, and even if you don’t reciprocate, Yoongi is more than fine with that. Because he’s still on this earth, in this lifetime, and this version of him was able to find this version of you.
And he’ll do it again, and again, and again.
“And you don’t have to say anything. I know I don’t deserve to. I can’t be everything you want. Or need. Or whatever the fuck I’m trying to say. But I just needed you to know because I can’t fucking fight this shit anymore—”
When you rush to embrace him with the utmost care, it proves too much to hide anything else. Yoongi’s walls fully fall with the tears from his eyes as you cry into his skin. Words bump and collide into each other as he fails to express how grateful he is to be alive and to be in your arms. It’s too much to bear. It’s too much to convey. All he can do is fucking sob. “Goddamn it, I love you—”
“Yoongi—”
“—so fucking much.”
You didn’t deny him. You didn’t look repulsed, or disappointed, or angry. All the fears that berated him for days prove useless and wrong and there’s no better feeling that exists in the spectrum of human emotion.
Orange and blue coalesce and intertwine, and his mind shines with a rainbow of iridescence, scintillating and bounding like the suncatchers in your eyes.
With his next blinks, something happens that renders his mind speechless.
He slowly looks beyond your shoulder and sees a figment of himself—a younger version with big dreams and a battered heart—standing at the edge of his kitchen and donning a look of trepidation.
Before realizing that everything’s going to be alright.
Yeah, kid. Everything is more than alright.
And this only makes Yoongi cry harder, and he watches himself grin before offering a simple nod, walking out with hands in his pockets and fading footsteps.
Healed.
“Yoongi.”
His name leaves your lips so cracked that it hurts him in the best way. It takes all of him to hold you tight, finding shelter from his own shower of tears in the crook of your shoulder.
This is what he’ll remember forever. Your outpouring of emotion receiving his biggest fear with warmth. He should’ve seen this coming, but darkness and trauma has a damn good way of beating your expectations down into dust. Just like the glass shattered across his living room floor not too long ago.
You still haven’t said anything. But this is more than enough. This is everything Yoongi could ask for and he’s cherishing every millisecond he gets with you in this newfound life, this life beyond his own, this eternity.
“Yoongi, I—”
He swoops in to catch your words in his mouth, and it’s in this very moment that he realizes that he’s terrified of anything you have to say back. Is that ridiculous? Is that unreasonable? He doesn’t care. There’s a chance these past three months have changed your mind and he’s not ready to hear it if that’s the case.
Just stay here with him and let him love you. Just stay here by his side and let him watch you with a vision finally unclouded.
Yoongi backs you up into the opposite counter, smothering you with everything else he wants to say but can’t. Because anything else he wants to confess still scares the living shit out of him.
Your breathy words already hit harder when you finally speak again, “I… I can’t… Yoongi—”
He can’t either. Whatever you’re about to say, he fucking can’t, either. Holding your head, he plants his forehead on yours. “I’m sorry,” he rasps out, hoping you can tell he means it, for everything. “I won’t ever be able to say that enough.”
“Baby,” you hiccup, resting a hand over one of his. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
How can he ever make all of this up to you? The distance, the shutout, the shutdown, the way he tried to get you to leave. All of it weighs his heart down and forces out apologies to his brain. Over, and over, he can only say sorry. And he’s so fucking relieved that he gets to tell you because he made it out and they all survived.
“It is.” You squeeze his hand, and he immediately calms. Inhaling your natural scent, he lowers his lids as you whisper, “You’re okay, so I’m okay.”
All you wanted was for him to be okay. And all he needed for that to happen was having you right here.
This is deeper than love.
After he plants a warm kiss on your temple, he feels so goddamned overwhelmed he has to ball his fists. “I just—fuck.”
“Babe,” you say with the softest care, “I’m here.”
“I know.” He sighs, smushing into your lips and holding you so tenderly, yet so tight. As he laps at your tongue, salt coats his lips and he knows what it means.
You’re here. He almost got you to leave. And you almost did and he finally, finally, finally fought for you to stay.
Yoongi plants kisses all over your skin, marvelling at how perfect you are even if you don’t believe it. You’re everything. And he’s so drawn to you that he can feel his body responding without pause.
But he won’t give into those urges unless you want him to. He can live off your little breaths, your roaming hands, your small hitches as he keeps peppering love along your canvas. This can be enough to keep him going well into the next year or ten.
His name leaves your mouth in a sigh, your back arching just how he loves. “If you only knew,” he whispers, laughing to himself as he wraps an arm around your side.
“Knew what?”
“Nothing, babe.” He captures your lips again, and he can feel that you want what he wants. And his heart pulses in double time. “You’re so—fuck.”
His hands find yours as he starts to walk to the bedroom, leading you and loving how your fingers slot into his perfectly. When you both reach the bed, you stop him with a little question of concern, “Are you sure?”
“I’ll be alright, doll.” There’s nothing but care in his movements as he lowers you down, transfixed by how beautiful you are in his sheets. The fact that you’re down to do this again after taking him so well has his mind spinning. “As much as I think you enjoyed the first time, this time will be better.”
Giggling, you read him like a story you’ve memorized, “You enjoyed it more than I did, I think.”
“I don’t think so.” A lie. “Lemme get a cond—”
“It’s okay.”
…What did you just say?
Yoongi needs clarification on what the fuck you just said because he is now convinced this whole night is a dream and he’s hallucinating you in his bed and he’s gonna wake up to none of this happening at all because what the fuck did you just say? “...What?”
“We don’t…” You swallow, and his heart stops completely at your next sentence. “We don’t have to this time.”
There’s no fucking way. “You sure?”
Cradling his face with the softest of touches, you confirm with a smile so shy Yoongi wants to shield you from the rest of the world, “Just for a little bit.”
And you add something he absolutely needed to hear because his breaths haven’t resumed. “I trust you.” When your eyes slightly waver, Yoongi crumbles at your last words, “And I want to, if you want it, too.”
Of course he wants this. But hearing the suggestion come from you? That’s new, and he’s not complaining in the least. “I want what you want, doll.”
“Then it’s okay.”
His fingers. They’re already fucking shaking.
But Yoongi’s not going to say anything to change the trajectory of this moment. Something about his bedroom feels different, as if it’s been plucked from this universe and placed in a separate pocket of time where only the two of you exist.
You aren’t wavering in your gaze. All you do is stare with pools in your eyes as he slowly peels clothes from your legs and his own. Determination is all he can see, and that solidifies his confession that he’ll keep saying again, and again, and again.
Can you hear how breathless he sounds? Can you feel every shiver running up and down his spine? Do you notice how he could disintegrate at any moment?
But before you both do this for real, he has to be absolutely sure. One last time.
And you respond without him having to ask. “Yes, my love.”
After a kiss he’ll remember forever, Yoongi kisses you back, taking his time and inundating your lips with every bit of him that he deems good. There’s a mix of emotion as he positions himself, and he has to fight the shakes when he feels the velvet touch of your folds.
Holy fuck, he’s not gonna last. He already knows this won’t take long purely based on the way he’s already fighting hard to keep his fucking composure.
But you’re so slick that it doesn’t take much for him to slide in, and the feeling of being fully molded into you is so incredible he could pass out. What the fuck. “Holy fucking shit.”
“Yoongi—”
“Fuck.”
You’re already clenching around him. Oxygen can’t even reach his lungs. There’s no greater feeling in the world than what’s vibrating in his bones, getting to feel the person he loves just like this. Whole. Yoongi feels so whole and he knows you’re fighting to prolong this feeling just as hard as he is.
Which only makes this shit even harder goddamn.
Your giggle barely reaches his ears, “You good, baby?”
He turns to watch your eyes, wondering when the fuck he got so close and wondering if he’s still even living. “Yeah, just...” He stares before finally taking a breath, exhaling hard from exertion alone. “Just this is about to make me bust.”
When you laugh, your admittance coaxes a long, lopsided grin, “I was just thinking the same, holy shit. We’re not good at this.”
Now that is a fuckin’ lie on your part. “No. You’re too good at this. I can’t even move.”
“Yes, you can,” you whine. “You wreck my shit all the time.”
Fucking hell. You have to know how much power you have in that whine. Preventing himself from coming inside you legitimately hurts at this point. Not that he’s complaining but god. “Doll, if you keep talking like that, I’m pulling out.”
“Okay, okay,” you surrender, giggling again and making him weaker and weaker.
His voice is so strained it’s embarrassing. “You’re a little too perfect right now.” When you shake your head, he will not have any of that doubt in his face. “You are.”
“Nowhere close.”
You don’t wanna do that. Facing you nose to nose, Yoongi taunts, welcoming this distraction from busting in your beautiful folds. “Say that again and see what happens.”
“Is that what you tell all the others fuck!”
Fuck, you take his thrusts so well. His cock is outright throbbing now. “What did I fuckin’ say?”
“What—”
Another launch has your mouth flopping open, and Yoongi can’t think straight anymore. All he can spit out is everything as raw as you’re taking him, “You think there’s someone else? Hmm?”
He pushes forward again. And your expression makes him moan so guttural it even gets himself going. Grabbing your chin, he feels sweat under his fingers as he vows, “You’re gonna regret saying that.”
You just laugh, and Yoongi groans at his next thrust and how deep he goes. When you taunt him again, he can only glower with pride, thrusting up again and sending you twisting and thrashing in passionate waves. “Uh huh.”
“Make me then,” you gasp for air. “Make me really sorry.”
How could he ever deny you?
His hands find your body before he dives, breaking loose and ramming into you as hard and fast as his hips allow. The pain in his side rises which each swing, but that doesn’t matter. You feel so perfect around him he thinks he can stay here until he’s physically yanked from this plane of existence.
Heaven. “Taking me so well like this.”
“I—”
“So fucking tight.”
Animal instincts scratch along Yoongi’s brain, blurring his vision and buzzing his actions into staccato jolts. When your jaw hangs, the first thing he thinks to do is smack your cheek, and he grunts when your eyes darken three shades,
“Do it again.”
Did you just—
“Do it again,” you growl, moaning to the sky when he obliges a second time oh fuck you’re cutting his airway and it careens him into carnal bliss.
Fuck, the pain feels good. So good that everything roars in his core and he turns completely primal, forfeiting all sense of decency and ravishing you exactly how he wants and exactly how you need. What the fuck is his shirt still doing on your body? That needs to go. But too much time would be wasted getting it off, but he can settle with shoving it up and devouring your chest just like this oh yes.
“Oh, fuck, Yoongi!”
“Uh uh.”
“Please—please—”
Lapping at your tits is one of his favorite things at this point. Almost as natural as embracing you and holding down your beautiful wrists just to watch you preen with a smile. Because this is exactly what you do now, teeth shining in the night and eyes creased and slicing through his beating, beating, beating heart.
Yoongi’s sure he’s stuttering out words that praise you, but there’s nothing truly registering in his head other than your sinful, angelic sounds. Truthfully, these moans you’re puffing out are enough to send him over the edge because you sound so fucking pretty.
“Baby,” you gasp. “I’m close, I’m—”
Shit shit shit, he’s gonna— “Shit.”
The last braincell he has commands his entire body, lunging up and pulling out of his newfound home before spilling mercilessly onto your exposed stomach, shuddering and shivering from lust and passion and something else scarier than the rest.
Hearing nothing from your lips, Yoongi finally regards you with ragged breaths.
You look so in shock. And he’s so exposed and snapped lucid that he is now downright shy. “Fuck,” he shakes out with a laugh. “Thought I could hold out.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure, laughing light and offering a smile. “Oh my god, I promise.”
Something must now be very wrong with him, or the wiring in his brain has been changed. Because every time he sees your lips? There’s an innate need to kiss them. It’s almost blasphemous if he doesn’t.
Fuck. He winces on the way down. There’s no doubt you saw that, which sucks. He doesn’t want you to worry about him, those lines on your forehead don’t need to be there.
“Stay there, beautiful.” Shit, getting out of the bed hurts even worse now. I’m not done with you.”
“Baby, are you sure?”
He’s sure. You don’t need to lift a single finger tonight unless it’s for him to kiss.
Walking to the bathroom and facing away, Yoongi can finally let his strong demeanor drop, wincing fully and squinting his eyes in pain. But it should subside in just a bit. Going too hard was probably the worst decision, but there was no way he was passing that shit up if you wanted it.
From the time he comes back to sit on the bed, to wiping your face and your stomach, Yoongi doesn’t feel your stare let up even once. Which is fine. This is the most calm he’s ever felt in his life, cleaning the love of his life after a connection he didn’t expect to have until you both had reached another milestone.
But as soon as he stares back, that’s when you look away. And it’s so adorable his heart beats a shade of lavender. “What, love.”
“I just… nothing,” you whisper.
“Tell me.” You’re not hiding anything from him now—fuck, he probably shouldn’t lie on this side. But fuck it. “I wanna know.”
Well. Not on your watch apparently. You command him to lie on your other side, and he’s not gonna be told twice. Shit is hurting like hell right now.
But he settles at your side, ears perked and awaiting your every syllable. “It’s a secret.”
Huh. “A secret?”
“Mmhmm.”
Well, this is definitely not what he expected. But anything to entertain and amuse you. Anything you want to tell him, he’ll bring to his grave. Lifting your chin, he softly rubs your cheek before whispering, “I can keep those, you know.”
That smile is why he fell in love. “Okay, I’ll tell.”
Why do you look so mischievous right now? Who is this cute ball of sudden energy? Are you not as exhausted as he feels? Yoongi is sure he could fall asleep in your arms right now without so much another breath—
“I love you, too.”
…What?
The stop of a clock.
Absolute silence.
Soon, every star in the sky glows brighter, the moon shining beams into his room and coating your body in heavenly light. It’s so piercing and true that Yoongi feels little pricks at his eyes, desperately hoping he heard you correctly because if he didn’t, his body would crumble and wash away with the tide.
“And you deserve more than I could ever give.”
Oh.
He heard you right.
And all he can see is you just beyond the sand under his fingertips, eyes reflecting tangerine and summer sparks and everything he wants to be.
He doesn’t remember rushing forward, he doesn’t remember kissing you. But he’s locked on your quivering mouth, not faring much better and very sure his tears are coating your tongue, too.
What the fuck does he say? Every word in every language he knows abandons him, too stunned at your confession and reciprocation that he can only show what he feels in his movements.
Fuck sleep.
He’s giving you every ounce of his energy tonight.
This is how he can thank you. For caring about him, for not giving up on him, for not leaving him when he was at his absolute lowest.
For loving him.
For loving him.
The pain ceases to bother him. Because he’s joining you in the sea now, diving deep between your legs and lapping at your every wave of pleasure. All he can think about is how you taste like magic, like devotion, like home. And buried in your core and away from your moans, he can let his tears flow, eyes scrunched and fingers gripping your thighs as if you’d leave as soon as he lets go.
When you say his name, Yoongi says nothing. Because he still cannot find it within himself to speak. If he does? You’d surely run. Getting ahead of himself is the theme tonight, and there’s no telling what he’d say next if he doesn’t keep his tongue occupied with your ebb and flow.
He really could go all night just like this.
And that thought is so natural that it doesn’t even phase him.
Your hands jut into his hair before you come on his tongue a second time, and the groan he pushes out rumbles his entire being.
“Holy fuck, baby—!”
Your waves crash onto the shore yet again, magnificent and beautiful and sparkling. Even though he’s as close as he could possibly be, Yoongi needs to be closer. So he gets up and lets your cunt breathe as he smothers your lips once more, pouring adoration into your lungs and sacrificing air to do so.
“Fuck.” He needs you. Yoongi can’t control the dragon in his chest that yearns for connection again, even though he knows this one cannot mirror the last. So he gets up to grab a condom, instantly thinking about how shy you were to show him which ones you got when you re-upped.
Fucking good ones, that’s for damn sure. He can pretty much feel all of you if he thinks hard enough, even with these on. Minx. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”
“Oh, I already know.”
“K. But god, I fuckin’ want to.”
The look in your eye is familiar. And the words you say are even more so. “One day.”
Fuck, he loves you.
And for the rest of the night, as much as he can muster, Yoongi shows you just how much. At least, he hopes you can tell from the way he makes love to you, each stroke intentional, each touch of your face tender, each look in your eye full of yearning even though you’re right there with him.
Is it possible to want someone when they’re right there?
What does that mean? How does he feel so fucking hungry when he’s so full of you?
It almost—almost—scares him how he can’t get enough of your body. But it’s probably your soul that he’s holding instead, and you have so much that he can’t carry it all.
Yoongi’s eyes burn, but not in a blaze of fire. They burn like a hearth, like a calm flame in the heart of a house.
Because he’s finally home.
—
—
Spent, satiated, and still wanting more but letting rest take over his tired bones, Yoongi finds himself next to your shimmering eyes and roaming fingers. God, he loves when you play with his hair. If there was one thing that could always calm his storm? This would be it.
That, and your hums. He could live indefinitely in your song.
“I’m sorry for yelling,” you finally whisper. When you catch his eyes, you shift from one to the other. “But I really was so mad at you. All of you.”
He doesn’t blame you one bit for that. “I know.”
“I don’t wanna lose you.”
Ah. Will he ever tell you how close that was to happening? Why does that one question make him feel so fucking guilty? “It won’t happen again.”
“That’s what you said last time.”
As he holds your gaze, Yoongi thinks it’s better to wait. But he can at least explain why things went down the way they did. Why you had to be sent away. “They were gonna follow us home if we didn’t, babe,” he says with certainty. “We all knew that.”
“Oh, fuck.” Don’t cry. Everything is okay now. Please don’t let this burden you. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about that.”
His silent pleas don’t work, because of course you would cry for them. That’s just who you are, and there’s zero need to change that.
But it doesn’t make this situation less painful. Sitting up, Yoongi has to hang his head between his knees to hide his guilt. “You don’t need to think about shit like that,” he murmurs, remembering something else he can tell you that’s okay to divulge. “But we talked after you told us off. We won’t hide that from you anymore.”
“Thank you…”
A brief touch on his shoulder turns into a calm yet firm hold of his arm. You’re slowly unraveling him, just like a fruit that reminds him of you, and he’s brought into your loving warmth without a word.
The two of you don’t need to exchange those so much anymore. Not when he can sense what you need, and when you can read him better than anyone ever has.
Only one person knows him more.
And finally remembering there are other people in the world—including the only one he fears—douses him with a splash of water.
He’s way too deep now. He really has to do something because if he gets pulled away from you ever again, his heart may as well get ripped from his chest.
“Thank you for letting me in.”
Yoongi’s eyes still.
“It was raining really hard.”
Fuck.
There have been multiple doors opened tonight. Not just the one he finally yanked himself through. And with each swing of solid wood, his heart began to breathe easier and easier, its beating stronger and fuller.
But with this last door? This one you just opened with a whisper and a soft touch?
His whole body freezes. Because it’s a swift punch to his already pained ribcage and all he can do is leak sentences from his eyes.
“Babe?”
Only you can affect him this potently. Only you can bring him to his knees.
“Hey. Look at me.”
He doesn’t want to. Fuck, he’s way too timid and fragile right now to even turn your way. Yoongi feels as if all his layers have been stripped bare, lying in one piece around him and exposing his vulnerable state.
But he obeys. And he can feel the slip of warmth on his face before you spring into action,
“Oh, fuck, come here.”
He’s gathered in your arms and it reminds him of many things. Like the tug of warm rushing water, and the first time he realized how he felt about you.
But above all, it reminds him of the loving embrace of his mother, one that he’s been swooped into every time he needed her most.
And this singular comparison knocks him off balance entirely.
“It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, pressing his face into your neck and soothing him when he doesn’t utter a damn word. “I’m not mad anymore, okay? I’m just glad you’re alright.”
How does one respond when an angel speaks to them? Is it possible to form words when your heart lodges itself in your throat? This proves too difficult. And Yoongi is trying so fucking hard to keep himself in one piece.
Too late. He can’t stop his nose from a sniff. But it’s okay, because he knows he can be like this with you. He can let go, because you’ve always allowed him to be wholly himself.
For the first time, in a very long time, Yoongi feels…
Protected.
He doesn’t have to be strong right now. He doesn’t even have to pretend to be more okay than he is. He can just be and that in itself gives him the most comfort he’s had in years and years.
The answer was always you. How many other times can he materialize this singular solution in his mind?
Infinite, infinite, infinite times.
“This isn’t about that, doll,” Yoongi croaks, burying wet eyes further into your shoulder. “It’s just…”
He almost can’t finish what he’s saying. It takes everything to shove it out because he wants to truly say everything he feels. Consequences and potential reactions be damned.
The truth remains.
“It’s so fucking better when you’re here.”
When you choke out a sob, his body responds, “I sleep better. Eat better. Fuck, I even feel better even if nothing else changes.”
“Yoongi…”
“It’s true.” Every single bit of it. The truth is so concrete in his chest that he can barely breathe. Sighing, Yoongi sniffs again before letting his weight fall into your loving side. “I mean that.”
You smooth a hand over his hair. Something that he’s missed so fucking much. “Then… Those three months…”
“One day, I’ll tell you everything,” he offers, surprising himself because there’s so many things that will scare you shitless. But what’s done is done. The future is now, and immediate changes are in order. “But from now on, you can be here whenever you want.”
Skimming along his strands, you cheekily ask, “So I can come to those parties you host, too?”
Oh? You know about those? It makes sense, since your brother did attend some and stayed for a bit. “Those weren’t my idea, by the way. Jimin made me.”
You’re silent as he gravitates to your shoulder, inhaling your scent while kissing its curve. “He was worried. And hoping you would show.” Again, you don’t speak, leaving room for Yoongi to keep revealing more and more of his unending string of thoughts, “I knew you wouldn’t. But… I did hope to see you, too.”
As you resume your gentle touches, your chest rises and falls before you finally talk, “It’s okay. It would’ve been too obvious.”
What, that he missed you? That he wouldn’t have left the same room you were in? That his eyes would’ve drifted to you because the rest of him couldn’t? “What would’ve.”
“That I wanted you all to myself.”
Oh. The two of you are so similar. “You already have that.”
Voice softer and more timid, you respond, “You know what I mean.”
Of course he does. In fact, he wants to see how you’d act if there was nothing holding you back. Because if it were him? Everyone would know who has him cuffed up and chained down, and just how much he fucking loves it—
“My brother was the one that invited me,” you blurt. “To come to those, I mean.”
Wait.. He what? “Huh.”
“I know.” You absentmindedly take his hand and kiss along his ridges, staring off into space and time. “It makes me wonder if he knows.”
Does he? Yoongi doesn’t think so, considering he himself is still alive and breathing semi-fine.
Back in the parking lot, though, things could’ve gotten suspicious as hell once that fucker started mentioning you to him. But the guy from Dalo taunted him first on the court way back when. Of course he’d single him out.
But still… When your brother told him to get out of the car, he probably lost two of his nine lives. “What if he does?”
You turn, eyes wide. “Does he?”
Focusing on your lips hovering over his fingers, Yoongi runs through every scenario in his mind. The most glaring thing he can think of just happened in your front yard, but your brother told him to break up with his ex. So there’s no way he’d think you were even an option.
So the most obvious answer, thankfully, would be, “No.”
Relief lowers your shoulders. “Okay. But you’re sure I can stay?”
Ah. He forgot about this single scheme he cooked up days ago, as soon as he was told your brother would be heading out for a surprise trip.
Getting to tell you in person? This makes his heart sing. “Who do you think you bought those groceries for?”
Jackpot. That expression is fucking priceless. “What?”
Yoongi cannot believe he almost let you leave. If you had walked back out into the rain, his future would have looked much different. And, frankly, quite fucking bleak. “I get you for a week, right?”
It’s just for a second, but the wheels spinning in your head can plainly be seen. He can’t help but laugh at the way you scrunch that cute ass nose as you burst,
“You sneaky little—”
That look. The look you have when you’re nothing but happy? He wants that permanently etched into your features forever. There’s nothing else he wants more than to keep you shining and shining.
Giving in to your kisses, Yoongi loses himself in the best way, melting against your lips and feeling warmth pool in his chest.
Is going behind your brother’s back one more time still mutinous? Yes. But this will be the very last time. All the sneaking, all the hidden truths, all the little lies will be over soon enough.
You need it to be, your brother deserves for it to be, and Yoongi yearns for it to be.
“One day,” he murmurs, caught in a sudden determination to rewire his whole framework for your sake, “I’ll be better.”
“Don’t make it just one day, silly.”
Did you just… What did you just say?
Clutching a little bit of his shirt, you whisper with complete devotion, “We’ll make it as many as we can.”
It’s not enough to say he loves you.
What he feels digs seven leagues farther into his soul, carving out a haven shaped like you just so he can permanently keep you there. Safe. Protected. Glowing like the pop of fireworks and the shine of sunlight through summer leaves.
Yoongi’s not quite sure of a lot of things. Unfortunately, one of those includes knowing when exactly he’d be okay. Be truly, one hundred percent okay.
But he’s sure of one thing, and that’s your word. If you’re with him, you’re with him. He’s known this for awhile now, but it doesn’t hit him until tonight, right as you fought to stay while staring his monsters in the eye.
A light laugh lands on his hair, and Yoongi wonders where your mind is. Probably wandering and trying to find his own, since he knows he drifted off just a bit.
“At least. Until the day I get to meet my cat.”
Yoongi’s brows perk up at your confidence.
“Then I’m running away with her.”
Is that right? Maybe he believes you, but who is he to surrender so easily? “Oh, yeah?”
Your pout is priceless. “Yeah. But I’m starting to think she ran away already and you won’t fess up.”
A laugh leaps out of his chest, because technically she did but ultimately came back. You really don’t know half of it, but he has time to tell you everything. Even the parts he doesn’t want to. “She’s still here!”
“Lies.”
“How much are you betting, doll.”
“How much are you willing to lose, babe.”
Alright, he’s had enough. The urge to tickle you roars again, and he doesn’t have to keep his hands to himself. “This much,” he says with his attack, loving your bubbling laughter, “Maybe I’ll make you leave after all if you’re gonna be a problem.”
“You did threaten to kick me out before.”
Yoongi stops on your soft curves. “Huh? When?”
“That day I showed up.” Your eyes crease as you watch him stare far into your eyes. “Said you were gonna kick me out for hustling you.”
Oh, fuck, he did!
The laugh that rumbles from his belly is so fast and loud that his side hurts like hell fuck but he can’t help it because the giddiness gets the best of him. Damn, he really did say that the very first day. From day one, he’s been such a liar. “I should’ve!”
“You really should’ve.”
“Played me from the very start. You happy with yourself?” Of course you nod. It’s attractive in the best and worst ways, and soon he’s not gonna know what to do with the confident version of you. “Course you are.”
“You love it.”
“I do.”
The sentence he wants to say next is balancing on the tip of his tongue. But it’s even more fun to dangle in front of your awaiting eyes, knowing you have a feeling of what he’s gonna say.
So he just bites his own lips before pulling you in for a kiss. “Thought I was gonna say it, huh.”
“No! …Maybe.”
Adorable. “Guess what.”
Yoongi doesn’t even acknowledge your suspicion before seizing your mouth, kissing you deep and feeling the arch of your chest into his. Fuck, he loves when you do that. It’s one of his favorite things, even more so when it happens right here in his bed.
If it ever happens again in yours…
After a few passes, he raises himself, planting a hand at your side and slotting a leg in between yours. God, your skin. It’s so smooth against his, and yet, you’re so unbelievably strong. So firm. So loyal. It’s never going to fully click that you’re doing this all for him.
There are multitudes of what Yoongi wants to say to you. But you two have all the time in the world now. He’s gonna shower you with so much appreciation and adoration that you may not know what to do with him. And that’s perfectly okay.
When he lets up, you move wet lips to whisper, “What were you gonna say?”
Drawn to your nose, Yoongi gives in to his urges yet again and kisses you there, letting loose and firing another confession into the dark night sky, “I just fucking love you, doll.”
Oh. You’re trying to duck him now? That’s not gonna work, but it’s fucking cute as hell. “You can’t hide now, babe.”
“I can!”
Nah, you can’t run. He has more to say and he’s gonna say it to your face. Or ear. Whatever is willing to take in his sparkling, booming declarations, “I love fucking you, too.”
“Yoongi!”
He can’t help but laugh now, holding you tighter and snuggling his nose into your scent. Inhaling, inhaling, exhaling relief. Relief that you are here and relief that he is, too.
That second of terror, not knowing if he was going to survive? It feels so far away and right on his heels all at once. It’s a strange feeling, wondering if the universe intentionally gave him a second chance and now wondering why. Clearly, he now has some soul searching to do.
But two things are for sure: music, and you.
And to Yoongi, they are one and the same.
“I miss you.”
What?
Looking down at your head, Yoongi wonders if he wandered too far, “How? I’m right here.”
You lower into his chest, and he feels his heartbeat quicken. “I still miss you.”
Fuck. He knows how that feels.
Feeling the rush of melancholy, he embraces your sides, knowing that there’s a goodbye to every hello and he knows your dreading this part just as much as he is.
A flare of blue streaks across his chest. Something burning so hot and searing a decision on the inside of his lungs.
And fuck, it’s already making him shake. “I can’t do shit like this anymore.”
You completely still in his arms, and he knows why. But this is the only way he can get all of this out because it’s frightening and he’s running from the one sentence he has to say out loud.
“I wanna do this the right way.”
He can’t fucking stop his breaths from studdering, and you push up to check on his current shake,
“What are you saying?”
Just say it. Just fucking say it. He’s ready to walk into fire, knowing a piece of him might disintegrate into ashes. “I’m saying I’ll tell him, doll. Just me.”
It takes a second or two for you to realize what he says. And he gets that. This is sudden, and it’s throwing him into a new state of panic that would destroy him if you weren’t there warming his skin.
The gleam of your tears gives him a will to breathe.
And Yoongi swallows every shadow and doubt before taking the first step towards freedom, famine, or both.
For you, for you, for you. Always and forever, for you.
“I’ll tell him everything.”
More water engulfs your eyes as you fall silent, and Yoongi can’t quell the beating in his chest. Are you shocked? Scared? Just as fucking frightened as he is?
Because he has a lot coming for him and there’s no way around it. He just has to hope to everything in the universe and beyond that he can withstand whatever hell your brother will unleash.
And the guilt waiting for him on its haunches. “Babe?”
“I’m just…” Your brows deepen as your face scrunches, but what you say makes him blink twice. “I can’t…”
Yoongi’s heart is millimeters from the ground. “What?”
When your hand grips your chest, he feels his whole world pulse with the urge to protect you. You look so scared of something, and it’s probably the same as what’s haunting him. He wishes things were different, he wishes he did things better, he hates himself for—
“I love you so much it fucking hurts.”
Oh.
You… That’s all you’re thinking about? Him? His throat sears through at how wrong he was. How the fuck will he ever deserve you?
“Maybe cus I’m scared as shit,” you confirm one of his worries, clenching another beautiful hand over your chest. “Or maybe one heart isn’t enough to hold it all.”
If that isn’t the fucking truth.
Just saying the words will never be enough. Like it’s laughable how much he feels for you, what he would do for you. The way he went from a bruised heart to growing another just for you inflates his battered ribcage and leaves him breathless. “It’s been hurting for me, too,” he croaks, chest constricted by the rivers on your face. “A lot longer than three months.”
When your palm reaches to cup his cheek, Yoongi can’t hold back the tear that falls into its ridges. Because his capacity for emotion seems to be limitless around your tender heart. You’re his safe haven, his hearth, his home where he can be himself and not feel like he has to hide.
You’re his everything. And he’s simply yours in every sense of the word.
“I just wish I was here for those,” you whisper with leaking eyes that match his. “I missed you, Yoongi. I didn’t want to say much, but… It affected me a lot more than I thought.”
“I know,” he responds, cracked and broken beyond repair. “There’s nothing I can say that can change what I did.”
Your sniffles stab like knives.
“But listen. Hmm?” He shifts to kiss the inside of your palm. “Never again.”
When you can only nod, his lungs collapse. “Serious. And you’ll know how serious by tomorrow. K?”
“K,” you breathe out, silent as you watch him pepper more and more kisses along your wrist between inhales. His plan will be fully done by the end of the day tomorrow. There’s a bit to do, but he’s got time. Everything will be worth it just to keep you happy and at peace.
And maybe this will help him get there, too.
“Come here, doll,” he whispers, shutting both eyes when you rush to his lips before he even finishes the plea. And your mouth pins his in the best way, smothering with salt and a deluge he laps at, sucks in, smushes closer with a hand to your head.
When you break away, Yoongi gulps in air as you do the same, hearing your soft sniffs and still wishing things had been done differently.
But he can’t change the past. And the present is more than he could ever ask for. So there’s no point in dwelling on the roads you both took to get here.
“I love when you call me that,” you admit, breaking into his thoughts.
“Doll?”
“Yeah.”
“Kinda picked up on that.” Ah, you’re trying to hide one more time? Do you know that’s never gonna fly with him? “Huh, now we’re shy again?”
“Always.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Yoongi laughs until you latch onto his neck, and blood speeds to his groin as he instantly loses himself in a groan. He doesn’t even register his head kicking back until his words come out strained, “Fuckin’ hustler, fuck…”
When you chuckle, your vibrations send jolts along his limbs, activating every fucking cell and lighting up his brain until it’s completely blank.
“Gotta live up to my name somehow,” you joke, pulling away and leaving a cold patch in your wake. “But seriously, that’s all you get. We have to sleep.”
“What, you don’t wanna see the cat anymore?”
“I never said that!”
You’re way too easy, but he’d be the same exact way. The last time he got you both up to see your little gift, she wasn’t outside. Will she be there now?
With tired muscles, you both get out of the bed, and he holds out his hand to guide your zigzag waddles through his apartment that he can finally breathe in.
“Wait,” you halt with your arm. When Yoongi obeys with a look, you turn to him and show off how logical you are, “There’s probably glass still.”
He nods, resting you against his door before fetching slippers from his closet. And it hurts like a bitch to lean down, but he slips your pair on so you don’t have to move. Rather him than you anyday.
And that look of pure adoration he gets in return will always be fucking worth it.
God. Things really are better when you’re here.
He can’t believe how stupid he’s been.
With the proper footwear, both of you slowly make your way through his place, and Yoongi shifts his vision around to check for any large shards of glass to navigate you around. Somehow, it looks like you got most of the damage out. But some tiny specks and chips still remain, and he notes to get them soon—
“If she’s not out there again, I’m gonna cry.”
Yoongi laughs before squeezing your fingers. “Me, too.”
Finally, you both get to the door, and his hand stays flat on the wooden striations for a little longer than necessary.
How wild to think things could have gone to shit entirely. How foolish of him to even fight for you to leave.
But, after a moment of him looking down at the doorknob and you giving him the space to pause, Yoongi opens the door and gives a small peek outside.
Bingo. “Stay there,” he commands, and he leads you forward until you forget he’s there.
Because the damn cat now commands all your attention, lapping at a water bowl until she looks at you. There’s a moment when he knows she’s cautious, but it doesn’t last long before she’s curious enough to inch closer to your side of the door.
Of course it wouldn’t take long. Yoongi knows how magnetic and gentle you’ve always been. Maybe if he didn’t resist it so fucking much before, he wouldn’t have had to separate himself in the first place.
“You’re so little,” you whisper. “Hi, baby.”
He smiles down at you both as the little one sniffs at your finger, feeling a calmness in his heart that seems secure and permanent. Is he allowed to feel this way all the time?
Maybe if he had done things right and told your brother everything first. And maybe he should stop digging this hole and stay in the moment, goddamn.
“Do you have a name yet?” You ask her instead of him, scratching behind an ear and giggling at a purr. “Did your dad give you one?”
…Dad?
Yeah, digging that hole is probably smart. He’s gonna need a whole grave for that one.
But Yoongi swallows before answering for the one that can’t speak, “I’ve just been calling her cat.”
When you glare over your shoulder, it’s immensely more cute than intimidating, which causes him to laugh and the cat to scurry a bit away. “You named my cat Cat?”
“Nah, just nothing permanent. Figured you’d wanna do that.”
“We can do it together.” Lips pursed, you sit in thought as she comes back, plopping on her side so you can rub her belly. “It would mean more that way.”
“Cat means cat,” Yoongi shrugs out, before promptly getting swatted at and laughing. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” You yawn before saying goodbye for now, and judging from the look of yearning on your face, Yoongi knows you’d rather bring her inside. “See you again soon, cat named Cat.”
Cute.
Maybe something short and sweet? Miss Dion has been calling him something a lot lately... And it could fit with how nice this cat is being around you.
“Sugar.”
You peer up before blinking. “Wait, that's so cute. Where'd that come from?”
Well. You didn't say no, so he's sticking with it.
Smiling, Yoongi helps you up before you both step back inside. “I’ll explain in a bit.”
That seems to quell any other conversation about it, so you let him lead you back to bed.
Only he doesn’t do that. Instead, Yoongi leads you just a few steps forward, letting you both stand in the living room and take in the aftermath of his mania together.
Your hand comes down to grip his in a comforting hold, and his shoulders immediately relax. "I don't know what led to this," you start slow, rolling words around in your mouth and plucking them very carefully. Even though you don't need to. He deserves to hear your every critical thought. "But I wanna know..."
When Yoongi turns to face you, he isn't prepared for your question,
"Did it help at all?"
Mm.
It's not that he can't answer because it's too hard. The reason he can't answer you right away is because he doesn't quite know the real answer. Does he feel better because of what he did? Or because you're here, like he said before? "I'm not sure yet," he decides to respond truthfully.
Eyes slipping down to your fingers looped in his, Yoongi admits with quiet confidence, "But none of it mattered as soon as I saw you."
Once again, with one look, he finds himself swimming in those beautiful eyes. Because you don't see him with pity, or rage, or even disappointment. You just... see him. You accept him as he comes.
And one day, when he gets the courage to look you in the eyes long enough, he'll be able to see himself the way you do, too.
"Let's rest, my love," you whisper soft. "I'll yell at you in the morning, I'm too tired to do it now."
There it is.
Chuckling, Yoongi obliges, shivering at how you address him and following whatever you ask. "Good. You're the only one allowed to kick my ass."
"As it should be."
When he's the one that leads you to the bedroom, his heart beats strong. But when you're the one that tucks him into bed with a kiss to his forehead, Yoongi's pulse becomes so tender it robs him of words.
"Hey... I'll always be here, you know," you murmur, sliding a warm hand over his bangs. "Even if it doesn't feel like it, I'm right here. All you have to do is close your eyes, and just..."
When he does, the press of your lips on his damn near brings him to tears. He commits this feeling to every memory center lodged in his brain, and this moment instantly locks itself as one of his deepest, most cherished ever.
"Remember that."
Eyes flittering open, Yoongi softly brings you in for another kiss. "I will, doll."
Your smile gives him purpose. "Good."
And for the first time in months and despite a hurting side, Yoongi sleeps right til the time he has to wake up, without even a breath or pulse out of alignment.
Because his drift to sleep had been a peaceful one, and the only thing he dreamt, felt, or thought of was you.
And the way you told him you loved him.
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fin :')
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fugue thoughts!! we did it!! | join the server!
a/n: we freakin' did it i love them i love them i love them!! yoongi's whole interlude is done and it was a monster in itself. now we're back on to the main storyline and honestly i am both relieved and yet still so tender for this yoongi. of course, there are other big situations we have to get ourselves into, but we are in the home stretch of three tangerines so let's finish this all out with a bang bang bang and lights in the sky :'))
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feedback box:
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
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⇥ here!
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more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ three tangerines masterlist
a/n 2: we did this for 3tanfugue3 and the energy was great! just like last time, some of you guys suggested that we have post goals to encourage interaction. no one voted against it last time (honestly, you guys were super encouraging so thank you!) so let's go again!
note goal: same goal as last time, 800 notes is the goal, so when we hit that, 3tan13 will be dropped as soon as it's done! thank you all for reading and would love to hear any thoughts: what did you like about the chapter? how did a certain scene make you feel? what are you excited to see next? any shares, comments, tags, and reblogs with commentary count, and i appreciate anything you guys have to say.
It took me a while to finally read it since ive been extremely sensitive lately but it was so much worth it, I cried and I smiled and I laughed when Cat appeared. This couple has my whole heart🩷
pairing: battle rappers!myg/knj x reader(f) , jhs x reader(f)😛
rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; battle rap au , roommates au
summary: after you have a conversation with yoongi, things start to twist and muddle in your head. but when work gets hard, you need to blow off steam—turns out, all you needed was a heated encounter. with your roommate.
note: heavy 00s vibes, they are all menaces, including reader what can i say🦋, y’all there’s a lot in here lmao, but trust me!!!, there is even more coming and we are not ready??
note 2: again this is super unedited i kinda just went off the rails and said that’s good let’s post, but also we can ignore this being the second time posting since the first one got sent to the void sdlkfjsdkl
warnings: language, tension, namjoon in grey sweats yikes!!!!!, yoongi being irritating in tanks??, jung hoseok is MAD mad, what is happening, feelings™, reader is just so fun istg, stressing, nsfw scenes, angst..?, jung hoseok what is your gd problem, wet hair……., namgi bickering lmao, competitive as hell namgi, joon is just a warning himself, blanket kicking scenes LMAO IM SORRY, yes yoongi is a massive problem but so is everyone else, namjoon on the phone....... yeah
spice warnings: under the cut and there are a lot again lol
drop date: april 25th, 2026, 11am est
word count: 9.7k of messy messy rapline | mood: here
nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those, i think that's it, maybe a little angst??, yes angst
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nsfw warnings: cursing, choking, smut scenes, uhhhh kissing is considered nsfw here, especially with who it’s with!!!!, cowgirl, breast play, wet wet wet, and even wetter, ……someone makes you squirt…., but who…, protected sex, rough sex, basically we get put through a mattress lol, Feelings??, sauve as hell rapline, is that it?, chains, always those,
Clad in only a simple tank and sweatpants, Yoongi lazily leans on the back kitchen counter, hair framing his face and eyes downward as he’s busy peeling a small, vibrant clementine.
When you don’t speak, he slowly lifts his gaze. And his dark rasp shakes you straight down to your bare, curling toes,
“You have fun?”
You’re so in shock that your knees almost knock together, mouth struggling to form words in a coherent order, “Yoongi, what’re you— doing—”
“I live here, genius.”
“You… And Joon—”
“Joon? Cute.”
“I—what are you even doing up—”
“Need a ride?”
You pause, suddenly forced to make a decision with your mind still lust-laced and dizzy. But you finally decide to turn his offer down, which is the best choice considering it would be far too much hassle for him to know you live so close. “I can manage.”
“It’s late as fuck.” Yoongi pushes off the counter before chucking his peels in a trashcan. God, do his bangs really have to shift like that when he turns? Can you focus on anything else? “Lemme drive you. Unless you wanna stand on the back of his pedal bike.”
“Uhh.”
Shit, you don’t want anyone knowing where you live. Which happens to be very, very close. “My friend can scoop me,” you respond, still unmoving like it would further disturb the surrounding air.
“…Still weird.”
And yet Yoongi disrupts it himself. You quickly flip him off as you text, asking a question to his laugh as you hit send, “Is she still here, too?”
The answer is quick and bored, “Nah.”
Figures. “You don’t let them stay, huh.”
At this, Yoongi takes slow strides to your leaning form, eyes roaming over every exhausted inch and holding a spark you haven’t seen in them before.
When he reaches your silence, his hands softly tug your hips, and you suddenly notice how his thick sweatpants accentuate the fit of his tank annoyingly well. “Wanna find out?”
“You whore,” you meekly grit, starting to push him away before he growls. “You’ve never taken me ho—”
“Goddamn, he went hard.”
Shit. Your hand flies to your neck. “Oh, fuck, really?”
“Yeah.”
Flicking up a brow, you grow very, very curious. “As if you didn’t do the same with whoever that was?”
“Mm.” He leans on an elbow next to your still frame. “Don’t fuckin spill, either.”
“That you’re roomies?”
“Yeah. We’ve known each other for years before moving over here.”
“You’re scheming, huh.”
He only smiles before flicking a finger over your nose.
It’s fucking genius, if not borderline criminal. “So what, you take south side and he takes west?”
“Smart.” He gives you a look of approval. “Why stay in the same circles when we can win both?”
“Well, shit,” you exhale, eyes roaming the floor in thought before you drop your jaw in frustration. “Wait, you even played me! Fuckers!”
Yoongi immediately laughs, and you can very much smell his breath—full of peppermint. Interesting.
But he doesn’t notice your observing stare. “I didn’t know you’d run into him. How do you even know each other?”
“I see him at the gym.”
“Mm.” A sage nod. “Guess it’s not surprising.”
You look away, a little hurt that neither of them told you but having no basis of why they would. It’s clearly not like they tell each other when they’re bringing people home.
But still, you pout. “Can’t believe y’all.”
“What are we gonna do with you.”
We? Him included? Irony seems to leak from his puffed lips tonight. “Clearly you won’t do anythi—”
A door opens and snips your accusation in half, and you snap your head to see Namjoon leaving his room in a rush, eyes darting between both of you from the end of the hallway. “Oh, you’re… Oh.”
“Ah,” you start, “Hi.”
“Uhh.”
“She won’t tell.”
“K.” He keeps his stare, blinking sleep off before tilting his head at you. “You leaving?”
Damn, why are you feeling so sheepish? “Yeah.. I should’ve told you before. I don’t, umm.” You feel the weight of Yoongi’s stare and Namjoon’s awaiting expression, and they both clash in your gut. “It’s not you. I just don’t ever stay.”
“Oh.” Namjoon walks down the hall, his grey sweats and lack of a shirt making you so fucking weak you’re already mentally stumbling. When he speaks, you trip even harder, scraped by his drowsy rasp, “You could’ve just told me. I would’ve gotten you a ride.”
That would’ve still meant he would type in your address or see it after you did it for him. You like the sentiment, though. “Maybe next time,” you tease with a wink.
Thank goodness he’s easily placated. If things got weird already with Yoongi right here?
“Wait,” Joon blurts, mind whirring behind those eyes, “You said you followed Gloss, but. I didn’t know y’all knew each other.”
Oh. Uhh..
When you speak, you ignore Yoongi’s curious yet amused look, astounded that he even let you talk first, “Something like that.”
Instead, the man chuckles in arrogance right after. “Something like that, yeah,” he says through a lopsided line. “Gonna give her a ride home.”
“No need,” you stop him with a hand, and they both zero in on your nails. “I… uhh.”
Shit. You really don’t want to call a ride for the same complex, and you definitely don’t want them knowing you’re a walk away. So when you look down at your phone, a white lie slides out of your mouth, and you have to deal with a choice, “My ride said they’re gonna be awhile, so...”
Both of them look at each other.
“I could just stay… If that’s cool.”
For the first time probably ever, both Namjoon and Yoongi are silent. But in their brief pause, you just inspect your nails and wonder if you should switch them up again. Maybe back to that set you had at the beginning of last month? You really keep coming back to this color combo, though. “But don’t get any ideas if I do. I just wanna shower and sleep—”
“You can sleep with me,” they both respond in unison, and you can barely hold in your laugh when an argument sprouts.
“She was just with you.”
“My bed is better.”
“We have the same one?”
“Mine’s bigger.”
“It is not.”
“Who’s the one that brought her here?”
You halt them, sparing their neighbors from a verbal sparring match and not wanting to think about that last part.
Because you’re still a little hurt that one of them really hasn’t taken you here, and the same guy falls a little too quiet.
When you finally offer your own suggestion, Yoongi looks at you first. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Nah,” Namjoon rejects immediately, walking forward and heading your way. “I’ll take it. Use my room.”
Fuck, this man is fine and considerate? “No no, I’m cool with it.”
“You sure?”
“I’ve slept in much worse places,” you assure, bringing up many, many terrible reminders in your head. “And I think you both need some good sleep, too.”
“Use my shower then,” Yoongi finally pipes up, and both you and Joon pin him with shock. “I got clothes you can use, too.”
Oh. This is… This is new.
Blinking, you can’t help but swallow your inner thoughts, wondering why he’s offering and a little giddy about it. Is this Yoongi being accommodating? Or jealous? Either way, it’s adorable coming from him.
Well. If both of them are offering to take care of you, you’ll gladly take them up on it. This is downright delightful. How do you just keep winning?
“You guys decide,” you say with arms folded, pretending to be huffy and internally grinning. Watching their competitive natures collide in real time is just too fun.
But finally, Namjoon flexes his jaw before heading into the kitchen for water,
“You use my shower next.”
When you feel Yoongi visibly exhale at your side? This is when it’s undeniable.
These guys are just big teddy bears. Caustic on the mic and absolutely fiendish when it comes to wordplay and demolition, they’re just boys at the end of the day. And it’s so endearing you find yourself sinking more and more into these apartment walls.
No no. Get real. You have aspirations and dreams. Don’t get too caught up before you achieve them.
But it’s okay to let go for just a bit. So your eyes follow Namjoon like a fool, winking and beaming at his growing, quiet smile.
To which Yoongi hums at. “You hungry?”
“Not yet.”
“K.”
“I might be later, though. So y’all better feed me.”
They have varying levels of mirthy scoffs, and you go into the kitchen to ask Joon for a water, too, which he’s already handing to you.
“That thing you did,” you start, knowing you have both of their attentions, “With your fingers.. Do that next time, too.”
While you really do want Namjoon to do whatever the fuck he just did with you, you’re also showing him there’s no reason to be jealous. If he is.
And he pulls you in for a kiss, smiling and chuckling at your little bit of shyness. Because he tamed the fuck out of you tonight, and you will give him all the softness you got left. It’s only fair.
“Whatever you want,” he whispers to your ear.
Humming, you slide a hand along his arm. “Good to know.” When you scratch just a tad, only you can hear his breath catch. “Guess I’ll go clean up your mess now.”
“Gonna take me hours to clean up yours.”
“Mm. Good problems.”
“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.”
This man is too suave and it’s a goddamn problem.
When you leave Namjoon’s side with a quickened heart rate, Yoongi’s still on the wall with his phone, foot propped on the floorboard before he sees your look of satisfaction.
And he actually waits for you before you follow him to his room.
In terms of aesthetics, Yoongi’s room is different from Namjoon’s despite being the same level of minimal. Where Joon has posters of rappers and shelves of books and vinyls, Yoongi has basketball players and what looks like production equipment. But they both have desks littered with sheets of paper, journals, and writing utensils, trash cans mostly filled with balled up scraps.
It’s actually… inspiring. They really do the work and it clearly, clearly shows.
“You just gonna stand there?”
“No,” you say, petulant. “Just don’t know when I’d ever be back so I’m taking it all in.”
It’s kinda true. Probably actually true. But you can’t force him to do anything when it comes to you, so if this is your only chance then you’re taking advantage.
Though… he did offer for you to just sleep through the night with him… What does that mean?
Turning with a mind full of thoughts, you see Yoongi quietly watching from his closet before his voice drifts across carpet,
“Come here.”
Silent, you go to stand in front before he pulls you in and slowly pins you against an empty wall. And being in a smaller space with him so close? Strangely, you feel comfortable and a little at home, if only because this is how you both usually end up anyway.
At home. Irony is dripping from your lips, too.
“You’ve never taken me home,” you pout to his mouth, deciding to be vulnerable and hating it. “Why?”
You expect to be dismissed. Or even just given an offhanded comment or a quick joke.
So you’re completely thrown when Yoongi chooses to kiss the side of your neck that isn’t marked to hell, one slow pass after the other.
Ah. He’s avoiding your question.
That’s fine. He’ll be a much harder one to crack, you assume. Definitely seems a lot more private than most, but you’re the same way so it’s not like you have room to talk—
“Cus you’d never leave,” he murmurs against your skin, going for your shoulder.
Oh.
Wait, what?
If he’s assuming things about you, he’ll be sorry to note that you’d surpass his expectations. But under his fucking impeccable kissing and godforaken cologne, your reply comes out a lot less confident than you’d prefer,
“Gimme some credit. I’d show some restraint.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Hmm?”
You get kissed on your jaw before you can register what he means, and he falls really silent after letting up, eyes on your lips as he quietly admits,
“I’m saying I’d keep you here.”
…Oh. Oh, that’s…
You blink in stunned silence, stomach flipping when he glances at your eyes before kissing your neck again so languidly it lulls you into a trance. “You’d… do that…?”
“Maybe so.” He brings you into his pelvis, hands rounding to rest just behind your hips. “But I know I’d make you wanna stay anyway.”
“Prove it later,” you challenge with a hitch. “You don’t know me.”
“I think I’m proving it now,” he corrects with confidence, chuckling deep when your arms sling over his shoulders. “Aren’t I.”
You kiss his neck in response, and he chuckles into his groan because he knows what it means.
Fuck, his skin feels divine. And his breath is full of peppermint and clean and you sense no trace of whatever you saw him doing earlier. It’s a strange contrast to how he’s acted around you before. You don’t doubt that he’s done this same exact thing with someone else after eating you out—just like you’ve done before. It’s nothing special.
So why does your chest constrict?
“Fine,” Yoongi breathes you in, clutching at your neck. “There is another reason.”
You freeze. Wondering what the hell he means and washing over with anxiety. “What?”
Another reason he never takes you home? That can’t be good.
Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gone home with him before, if he’s not even comfortable saying it outright then the two of you aren’t meant to be more than ships passing in the night.
“I…” He sighs, touching his forehead to yours. “I never asked cus I know what would happen.”
Wait. What the hell does that mean? Why is Yoongi being so damn cryptic? “Why? I’m a fun time.”
He huffs away from your face. “That’s exactly why.”
You stare, and stare some more.
“I,” he laughs again, and it’s not a joyful one. “I even thought about getting your number a thousand times. And couldn’t even ask for that.”
Your chest heaves. What is Yoongi saying? What’s gotten into him? This man is fearless on stage, who is this guy that can’t even look you in the eye right now? “I don’t get it, Yoongi. You don’t know me but you don’t have to be scared of me, so what’s…”
Oh. You don’t like that tiny slanted smile at all.
“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.” When he pushes off the wall, his hand slides off slow. Deep in thought, he turns and goes for a shirt hanging from his rack. “Here. Your favorite.”
He means the color. Your stomach feels funny. “How’d you know?”
“Your nails,” Yoongi responds offhandedly as he fishes sweats from a drawer. “There’s a color you use a lot.”
What. The actual fuck. “Oh. Well, shit.”
He doesn’t mention what you just accused him of, but it’s in his eyes. His whole face. And you are a damn fool.
When Yoongi hands you a baggy pair of pants, you slowly take it, brain overloaded with thoughts. “There’s extra toothbrushes under the sink. You can use anything in there, too. Just put everything back in the same spot.”
“K.”
He just said a lot of vulnerable shit. What the hell are you supposed to do? How are you supposed to walk out of here knowing what you know now?
You’re not gonna address any of it. That would require way too much thinking and feelings on your own part and you need space to unpack your own shit.
But you do stop him from leaving his closet, waiting until he turns around to notice your hand on his wrist. “You brushed your teeth.. Why?”
His lips close while his brows slightly bend.
And what he says to the side of his doorframe makes your heart fall a few clouds down, flipping your world and rocking you off balance entirely,
“She didn’t taste like you.”
Yoongi means it. You know it in your bones.
And if he didn’t move just out of your reach. And if you weren’t taking the couch and sleeping in here instead.
Something may have shifted even more than it already has tonight.
Because your heart is starting to beat in two different cadences. Over, and over, and over.
Fuck space.
“Come here,” you whoosh out, spinning Yoongi so hard he rams you back into a wall. And finally, your mouths collide, with you attacking his lips just as much as he does yours. You fully taste peppermint and nothing else and that is crazy considering how much he had to do to be this clean and fuck his kissing is perfect.
Yoongi knows exactly what to do with you. And he knows exactly what to do to pitch you over the edge in a second. Nails rake into his stupid hair before you feel his annoying hands all over your neck, his fingers all over your head, his chest all over your heart—
Outright fear shoves him back, and your breaths are the only two elements of sound when he freezes a few steps away. Exhale. Exhale. A swallow. Another one.
That was…
He looks…
Fuck.
You use what little logic you have left to speedwalk past Yoongi’s shoulder.
Knowing he’s letting you dip because it’s what’s best for both of you.
—
—
Namjoon is a gentleman when you come back into his bedroom after pacing a hole in the living room, holding off your shower time a slight tad. From his desk chair, he asks if you’re okay staying and you tell him it’s fine since you do know both of them.
“Also,” he breathes out. “You’re stunning.”
That came out of nowhere. “Oh.. I know, but thank you.”
Leaning back in his chair, the man lets out a breathy laugh. “Fuck, I love how you know that. I was just gonna say.. Well.” He fidgets. “Don’t let me keep you down.”
“What?”
“Like.. Yeah. I love going on dates with you and seeing you at my thing.. I dunno, it made me happy as fuck.” He then scratches an ear. “But I know you got a lot going on so it’s okay if—”
“Are you done with me?”
Immediately, Namjoon shoots up and walks straight to your squared shoulders, cradling your chin and responding so deep your mind reels. “Did I say that, baby girl?”
“No.”
“I’m just saying,” he smoothes a hand over your arm. “I’m okay if I’m not the only thing. I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. It’s incredible. So if you don’t have time, it’s okay.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’ll be there when you need me,” he says. “I’m okay with just going with the flow. I know you already know, but—uhh—if you wanna see other people, it’s cool.”
“You… You sure?” Blinking, you frown. There’s an explanation for this switch up and it’s existing and haunting you from the other room. “Is this because of Yoongi?”
His face cannot lie. “Kinda, yeah.”
“Oh.”
“I saw how you looked at him.” Namjoon slides his hands down, and you follow those long fingers and curl your heart when they do. “And even more than that, I saw how he looked at you.”
Ah. That makes you bite down hard. “We’ve known each other for awhile, that’s all.”
“I don’t think that’s all. But seriously, you don’t have to pretend or anything around me. I’m a big guy, I can take it.”
“Hey, same here.” You lift a hand to smooth the stubble on his chin. “Don’t let me hold you down, either.”
“I am more than happy with you doing anything to me.”
“Joon.” You give him a little pat. “I’m serious.”
“And I’m not?”
Your lips purse. “If you’re really okay with it, I am, too.” When you slip arms around his strong form, you sigh into his chest. “But I’m having so much fun with you.”
He circles you in warmth immediately. “Fuck, same here.” He laughs. “You really got me with that bar line.”
Ecstatic, you try to spit some scheme of your own, slowly petering out the more and more you know you’re losing it, “Really? Got more in the chamber, yeah, I like danger.. Uhh.. Something, something, it’s a.. banger… Ah, damn, I dunno.”
Namjoon fully laughs at you now, his arms circling even tighter and fingers splayed wide across your backs “I’m in trouble,” he bemoans. “You have to stop or you’d be right back in that bed.”
“Next time.” You reach to kiss him, knowing he can taste the peppermint on your tongue but not speaking about it. “I’m really gonna go shower now.”
“K.”
“And hey.” You hold his forearm. “If you really wanna do this—just us—we can try. You just gotta let me know.”
He hesitates for a second. But it’s enough to clue you into it not being a confirmation. “I will.”
Yup. That wasn’t a now answer. So you smile and head out to go to Yoongi’s bathroom, across the hall from his room. Guess he got the shorter end of the stick in the layout.
It’s fine. You don’t wanna approach his door again yet.
That’s gonna wait until later.
—
—
After you shower and get ready for bed—as well as you can in a bathroom that’s not a woman’s and not yours—you’re so exhausted that can barely keep your eyes open.
But there’s something you wanna do before sleeping, so you finally knock on the door you’ve been avoiding.
No answer.
Well. Guess the universe has other plans.
But you suddenly hear clacking and a voice to hold on, and you straighten as Yoongi opens up.
Headphones around his neck, his gaze immediately goes to his clothes on your frame, and you steel your gaze before holding out your hand. “I’m only gonna ask once.”
He stares.
“Gimme your phone.”
Yoongi blinks before turning to reach behind him, grabbing his phone off the desk before handing it to you. As you type, he just watches, silent.
And you start to wonder what he’ll say when you hand it back. “Put whatever you want for my name. If you ever text me, I’m naming you the village idiot.”
He grins wider and wider, looking down and biting his lip in thought. When he moves closer, you stop him in the doorway,
“Don’t.”
“What’s wrong.”
“I…” Sighing, you set a rule, hating yourself for setting a boundary but deeming it necessary for your own good. Both of your own goods, really,
“The next time I go in there will be when you take me home.”
Yoongi looks at you without words, shifting his gaze between your eyes for any hidden meanings when there are none. “You sure?”
You know what he’s asking. And you flat out ignore the spark you catch in that stare. “We aren’t exclusive,” you say, looking at Namjoon’s door. “We’ve never said we were, so yeah.”
It’s silent for a moment, and you don’t know whether to keep standing there or shove him back and go in yourself. The best choice would be to walk away, though, so you start to do so—
“About that girl.”
You stiffen. “This isn’t off to a good start, Min—”
“She bailed on me.”
…Wait, what? You heard her for a good amount of time. “When? Why?”
“Uhm.” Yoongi looks away with a shift of his jaw and some teeth. “I was.. distracted.”
Fuck. Just like you were? “Like you two weren’t loud, too.”
“Nah, like… Said the wrong name distracted.”
“Said the wrong… Whose name did you—” You blink. Hard. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Goddamn it, Yoongi.” You roll your eyes to the ceiling, feeling for the poor girl. “That’s the worst you could ever do.”
So she had to have left in the middle, right? But you swore you heard him for awhile so maybe they kept going for a little before she came to her senses instead of around his di—
“And for what it’s worth,” Yoongi continues with a point, “I don’t bring many people here anyway. She’s the first one in a long time.”
When he leans on the doorway, you let his eyes drag down your body, knowing he didn’t get to have it tonight and feeling a little smug. “Of fucking course it’d be when you show up, too.”
Your hum to a lifted shoulder makes his pupils dark. “Could’ve been you,” you tease. When Yoongi doesn’t respond, you ignore it and fold your arms. “But seriously? You don’t?”
“Nope.” His hand dips into his sagging pants pocket, looking towards his roommate’s room. “And no one from where we usually go. Namjoon and I don’t want anyone knowing we live together, so it’s best to keep everyone in the dark.”
That makes sense. But there’s a thought that stands out in your mind. “Wait, but… You both knew I knew your names.”
When Yoongi looks back at you, your chest caves at his expression under those tendrils. “Yeah. And I wanted to take you home several times, so what does that tell you.”
…Several? Yoongi, what the fuck?
Heart beating. Those unwavering eyes. These breaths between your bodies short and waiting.
Were you… always this into him? Have you really been ignoring how you’ve felt because things with Yoongi were just… easy?
Is this why he didn’t want to bring you home? Because you really can’t fucking think straight and it’s aggravating.
So you swallow. “I should.. Go to bed.”
Yoongi nods and looks down the hall. “There’s extra blankets on the couch. And he gave you one of his pillows.”
A switch was definitely flipped. You don’t know which one you hit or how you managed to do it, but thank god because this was getting a little too real. “K. Thank you both.”
“No sweat.” Yoongi looks at you without shame, and you wonder if it’s to remember how you look in his tee.
Please don’t be the reason.
“You’re the first one to ever stay,” he murmurs, as a fact and a final good night. “He doesn’t let anyone do this, either.”
Oh. Holy shit.
“Then I’ll be sure to snore loud as fuck,” you bluff, melting at the way Yoongi shakes his head in a laugh. “Night, Yoongi.”
He stares at you one more time.
And you keep staring right back.
One second becomes two, and two seconds become three.
Screw what you said earlier. All Yoongi has to do is let you in. All he has to do is utter one syllable of invitation and you’re taking residence in his bed.
But in the end, he doesn’t. And you’re completely, totally, seriously fine with that.
“Night.”
…Right?
—
—
You stay up until you can’t fight sleep anymore.
—
—
When you wake, you notice the bright sunshine outside their living room windows. But it’s really, really bright. How long were you out?
There’s a note on the coffee table saying they both left, but there’s a spare key and one of them can take care of your ride. Right next to said items is a covered plate of food, and you have a suspicion as to who made it.
Well. This is honestly the best outcome that could’ve happened. You don’t have to worry about them knowing where you’re about to go.
So you take your time and really observe everything, noticing how sore you are and that you’ll need time to recover. The walls and decor in their place are also minimal in the more public spaces, but there’s a lot of earth tones and a surprising amount of plants. Not what you’d expect from two guys tearing up the battle rap scene in two sectors of the city.
Then again, you didn’t expect them to know each other, either. Looks like they’re both really good at putting on masks.
And taking them down when you’re alone with them.
“Kept myself away for far too long.”
“If you’re going steady with him, don’t worry about what I wanna say.”
Your face finds the cup of your palms.
—
—
Bathroom. Freshen up. Walk around their kitchen and observe the little things. Finally sit down to eat.
When you dig in, you savor each bite, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into. Is this gonna be the last time you’re here? Or is this going to be a turning point in your life and there will be many, many stops at this station?
Guess you’re just gonna have to find out.
Yoongi’s food is damn near enough to convince you to come back, though. Goddamn, he can cook in there, too.
—
—
You purse your lips and shake your head when you time the walk from their building to yours.
Not even two minutes. Oh god, that is so fucking close.
But you join a whole new energy as you open your apartment door, delighted to see your roommate and his newfound obsession with tank tops.
“Damn, where were you?”
“I told you,” you laugh. “Here.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
You realize what he means, and you saucily lift a shoulder. “Turns out, he’s really good.”
Namjoon?
Or Yoongi?
Hoseok lets out a soft laugh. “You look a little… I dunno.”
You know what he means. Because even though you should be glowing enough to match his shine, things happened that threw you for a loop. And while you are very good with your quickwittedness and solution driven attitude, this is gonna need a bit more nuance.
“Just have things to think about,” you summarize. “How was your date?”
“So fun!” Hobi rushes over to the couch and brings over a fun looking accessory. “Look what they got me.”
It’s perfect. A little acorn bag that would go great with multiple items in his closet. “Wow.. Great taste.”
“I know, right?”
He excitedly puts it down before guiding you to your room, and you suddenly seem guilty for whatever the hell you’re doing with him.
Is Hobi an exclusive kinda guy? Why can you not remember?
But he takes your bag and sets it all down, and you stew in more complicated thoughts as he leads you to your bed. Are you even gonna go back to sleep at this point? Why does bed sound like the perfect place to be?
“Those his clothes, too?”
Oops.
Wincing, you slowly find a hard admittance in your throat, “Uhh.. Nope.”
The downturn of his brows comes as no surprise.
“It’s hard to explain,” you say as you plop down on your made comforter. “But trust me, I had a really good time. I’m glad you did, too.”
Maybe you had too good of a time.
“Scoot over,” your roommate suddenly says, climbing into your bed before you even get to move.
“Hello?”
“Scoot!”
Laughing, you move to the middle of your bed as he tugs up the covers, sliding into the cool den right next to you. “What are we doing?”
“Napping.”
“It’s late in the afternoon?”
“Sweet dreams.” Hoseok snuggles into you, and you feel your shoulders loosen immediately. “Mm mm mm.”
You groan, knowing he can hear the smile inside.
Is this man aware that he’s the only one that can order you around like this? Because if he is and is now taking full advantage, you may need to tighten your restrictions.
“You smell expensive.”
Eyes downcast, you pretend to giggle. “I know, right.”
You don’t have the heart to admit you just wanted to keep wearing Yoongi’s clothes, and breathing in Namjoon’s scent.
—
—
For the next two full weeks, work life gets busy for you, so you have to stay focused or else risk falling behind.
And of course the family is having lots of get togethers when it’s crunch time so your stress is through the roof, so you need need need to blow off some steam more than ever. As much as you enjoy the festivities and cookouts and reunions and random birthdays, you’re getting way too overstimulated too fast.
Because work is hell.
But showcases happen at night, so you can’t make them because your schedule requires early mornings. Anything starting late is out of the question.
You don’t hear from Namjoon or Yoongi. But you start to wonder if that means they’re working or writing or even going to the same studio he mentioned. That would be sick if they were working on some record or mixtape together—or even individually? Hot hot hot either way. Your work ethic can’t lose to theirs.
So you brush off the lack of communication and just assume good intent. You haven’t reached out either because you’re so busy, so why should they?
Back to work you go.
—
—
Eventually, on a random Thursday, Joon finally texts you. And it’s so out of the blue that you pick up the phone and call instead.
Namjoon [14:02]: Did I mess up?
It doesn’t take him long to answer the phone, so you dive right in, staring at unfinished work on your laptop, “What do you mean?”
“I haven’t heard from you, so I thought… I dunno.”
This man. Was he really worried this whole time? You wonder how much of these two weeks you got wrong. “I haven’t heard from you, either.”
“Damn. I’m not good at this.”
You laugh. “It’s my fault, too. I could’ve just asked.”
“You doing okay?”
That makes you stop, not hearing those words in a minute. Between everyone you’ve seen, only one of your little cousins checked on you solely because you were staring into space in your uncle’s backyard. She probably thinks you’re crazy now, but whatever. “Uhh, I’ve been better. You?”
“Nah, hold on. What’s wrong?”
Your smile is weak. He really is the same guy you met awhile back. “Work is just kicking my ass.”
“I feel that. I’m sorry.”
“You liar.”
“Huh?”
Grinning, you tuck your phone under your chin and keep typing away. “You are good at this.”
“Oh.” He laughs. “Talking to people?”
“Talking to me.”
“That right? Can I get that in writing?”
Nails paused on plastic keys, you laugh. “Now you’re pushing it.”
“Sorry.”
“Good boy.”
A hitched breath. A bit of pause on the line.
Very, very interesting.
But you spare him this once and say you’re down to hang tomorrow. “We can try a rooftop dinner this time?”
“I wish. But I’m actually gonna be busy.”
“Oh? Studio?”
“Nah, like. Flying out to another city busy.”
“No shit! Okay, I’ll put you down as a no for the rooftop dinner.”
Joon laughs, and it really hits your ear just right. “Yeah, put me down as a no this time.”
“Both of y’all are leaving?”
“Nah, just me.”
Your pout is super evident in your tone. “What am I gonna do without you?”
“I dunno. Probably cheer Yoongi up.” Your heart stops as Joon laughs, and you can hear a faint set of yells on the line. “He’s been moping all fucking week.”
“Was that him?” You ask with a laugh, already wondering what the hell is happening wherever they are. “What a baby!”
“Tell him yourself!”
So you do, yelling into the phone and knowing it’s gonna come out so crunchy, “Yoongi, get up!”
There’s more laughing and a muddle of words, but you can’t make them out too much. But just that helped you burn some steam.
Yoongi? Moping? He gets moody just like you do, but you’ve never seen him moping. What happened?
Well. You’d ask if he’d fucking text you. But since that hasn’t happened yet, guess you’re left to speculation.
“But yeah. I miss you, but work is important. Wanna go out sometime next week?”
“You know I do.”
“Perfect. I’m putting it in my phone so I don’t miss it for any stupid reason.”
“Next Friday is best.”
“K. Got it.”
—
—
The next afternoon, the door to your apartment flings open, and you snap your head to the muffled sound before clutching your phone tight.
What the fuck?
You almost think to call for help when you hear footsteps thump to the far side of the unit, and a further door banging shut.
Fuck, that was Hobi. What the hell is up?
Abandoning your laptop, you rush out of your room and cross the shared living space, lifting your hand to knock on his door but hesitating.
What are you pausing for? It’s Hoseok, and he’s clearly not happy. He’d be at your door before you could even fling your purse off if you stormed in just like he did.
For a moment, though, you hesitate. Because you were supposed to have the place to yourself and that meant bare face, low maintenance head, and nightgown on at 3pm.
But he sounded mad and all you heard were his footsteps and door closing. This isn’t the time to be caught up in appearances.
So you softly bang on wood before calling his name. “Let me in,” you command. “Now.”
“No.”
Umm, what the fuck? “No?”
“Just gimme a second.”
Lips smushed, you eye the door with such annoyance you try the knob to burst in yourself—
It opens immediately, and you barge in to a sight that makes your tongue loll and your saliva multiply.
Hoseok. Shaking his very wet hair. With nothing on but some very, very wet jeans.
He gives you a slight look of annoyance while you reach for words, mouth in a line when he asks, “Seriously?”
Umm. You were checking in on why this man came in hot. And now you’re feeling your own temperature spike through the goddamn roof. Truthfully, the only thing you can think of saying is something born from confusion, “You don’t lock your door?”
A tsk flings out before he sets foot in his bathroom, hanging the towel on a rack before replying, “I never do when it’s just us.”
“Really?” That makes you feel a little sheepish. Chalk it up to being a severely private person—and a woman—but you always lock your door. “I never knew that.”
“Did you come into my room just to tell me that?”
Oh, you don’t have time for that. All the pent up emotions and stress you’ve felt this week comes pouring down. Couple that with the fact you can’t even fool around with him since he’s still going steady with whoever? You are really deep in the trenches.
“Obviously not, Hoseok,” you sling out his name, catching his attention immediately, “I was just wondering what the fuck was up. I can’t just check on my friend?”
“I told you just give me a second?”
“Okay seriously, what’s with the attitude?”
“Attitude? What’s with the grilling?”
Your mouth snaps shut. “I’m not grilling you—”
“You are.” He flings more wetness from his bangs, and the motion alone makes your core ache. Fuck, he’s not helping your lack of release at all and now he’s raking through his fucking locks your moan is forming so quick you can’t stop—
…Why’s he looking at you like that?
Shit. Did you… did you do that out loud?
“What was that?”
Ignore him. You have to ignore him because if you stay you are begging for trouble. And you don’t want trouble for you, nor for him.
“You know what? Never mind,” you rush out, turning to head out and lock yourself in your room once again. “Forget it. Stay mad or whatever, I don’t care—”
The door closes in front of your nose before you’re spun back, shoved against wood as Hoseok cages you in.
“Let me go,” you move to shove him off, hands slipping as you palm his slick chest fuck. “You don’t want me in here anyway—”
“Did I fucking say that?”
“No, but I know when I’m not wanted—”
Your roommate presses his pelvis into yours, and your eyes fly wide at the straining bulge in his pants. Fuck, does that hurt him? His pants are soaked.
“I’m only gonna say this once.” Hoseok grabs your chin to force your eyes to his. “But I always fucking want you so shut the fuck up.”
What—
His lips smash into yours before you groan, your bones smacking against his door and your concerns muffled.
“I thought— I thought you were seeing someone—”
“Not anymore,” he whooshes out, diving into your neck. “Not after today.”
“I’m—fuck—I’m so sorry,” you moan out, losing yourself in those kisses.
“Don’t be.”
“You’re mad.”
“Just fucking pissed he took my umbrella.” He shoves his mouth into your column. “Now all my shit is soaked.”
“Lucky me,” you gasp out, grabbing his wet hair and raking down. “I love it.”
You hear him groan deep and raspy, and it scratches your brain just right. “Sorry I came in hot,” you quickly repent. “I’m just so fucking stressed.”
“I can tell.”
“So fix it.”
“What do you want.”
“You.”
And you’re yanked from the wall before being tossed onto a fully made bed.
Your long gown is hiked up before you even strip your underwear down, but Hoseok slaps your hand away.
Which can only mean one thing. And you’re rejoicing.
He slips his pants and underwear off before throwing them into the bathroom, and you yelp at his freezing cold legs before he grins. “Sorry.”
“You are not.”
“I’m not.”
“So fucking cold,” you growl, trying to move away from his skin but end up arching into his chest in the process.
Which completely destroys any hope you have of avoiding him, because your nipples have now pebbled against your dress, and you know for a fact Hoseok can feel them right through the silken material.
Your quick suspicion is confirmed with a growl, and the sound that leaves your mouth at the feel of teeth around one slings through all four walls. “Fuck!”
Shivers. Full body shivers erupt when your roommate buries his face in your chest, the rumbling in his throat searing you through as he inhales before kissing between your breasts.
…What was that for?
That wasn’t something you just do during a quick and dirty session. Which is exactly what you expect this to be. Hoseok came in hot after a tragic yet somewhat comical rainy day breakup, and you’re pissed he told you to wait at his door.
He’s always there and always telling you yes. Hobi never says no to you.
And you damn well know you would never say no to him, either.
“Smell so fucking good,” he moans, eyes closed and eyebrows knitted as he sweeps a hot tongue across your chest. “And you’re so warm.”
“I don’t feel like it.” Your pout makes him laugh, and you blink at how anger is slowly draining out of the atmosphere, and at how you’re just happy to hear his change in demeanor.
But he still gave you attitude earlier—you will not back down on that—so you need to preserve the last of your pissy mood to give him a good post-breakup vent session. “I know you didn’t throw me on your bed just to use me as a heater and smell me.”
Fuck. The laughter you hear now is fuller, and his arms immediately tighten around your frame as he collapses onto you. “I didn’t!”
“Then what did you have in—”
Hobi smushes his lips onto yours, rolling his body against your front and making you gasp like you’ve been blindsided. Which, technically you have, because this is not the way you thought things were gonna go a mere five minutes ago.
“Gonna fix you,” he rasps against your lips. “Remember?”
“Wouldn’t mind fixing you first,” you counter, raking long nails down his bare hip and enjoying his hitched reaction. “I can suck you off?”
“Fuck,” Hoseok shudders out before pinching his brows. “You can’t do that.”
Huh? “I do that very well actually? Rude.”
“No, no,” he clarifies, subtly moving one of your thighs to the side. “I just meant not now. If you do, I’m not gonna last for shit.”
“Oh.”
You only get a second before you feel a freezing finger on your underwear, flinching up and watching Hoseok’s eyes slip into the depths of lust and concentration. When he slides the material to the side, your breath stops. “But this right here, I can do all day.”
Breathing out his name, you have to close your eyes with how good it feels to have him touch you with such softness and precision. It’s like he’s done this a thousand times when it’s only been more like five, and you rock against his fingers just like all the other times before. “Feels so fucking good.”
“So do you,” he praises with gravel, reaching up your body to slowly bring your dress down to reveal your breasts like a slow gift unwrapping. “Really, I could touch you all night.”
“Finish my work for me,” you whoosh out, “And you can.”
Chuckling, Hoseok goes from rubbing to inserting his fingers, and you twitch hard while projecting a moan into his ceiling. “That’s it, baby,” he coaxes. “Yell for me.”
Fuck. How the hell are you already so close? “Hobi, I’m—”
“I feel it. Come on, baby.”
How is this happening? He’s going faster and faster and you’re already wet enough to let him and it’s building so fast in your core that it’s shocking. A whine propels from your throat as you keep exhaling hard, and when the pleasure becomes too much to bear you release in the most sinful way—
Oh, shit shit shit, you really—
“Fuck.”
Liquid spews from your cunt and onto his chest, drenching your roommate even more than the rain outside and dripping down his abdomen. Both of you groan at the sight, and you can’t believe you just squirted right onto him with minimal effort on his part how the—
“What the fuck, come here.”
You’re dragged forward and hitched up on his legs, and Hoseok leans over to yank his nightstand drawer out for protection, his necklace brushing cold against your chest.
Drunk on lust and indescribable pleasure and a wave of strange intimacy, you reach up to suck one of his nipples, laughing into his skin when he visibly twitches and collapses.
The sound he makes causes your cunt to squeeze, and you hold him with your claws while swirling your tongue all around his chest. When you move to the other side, you give it just as much effort, squirming under his pelvis and rocking against him when you feel his cock.
“Baby,” he gasps. “Lemme put this on.”
“No,” you simply reject, reaching down to stroke him and giggling at his loud moan. “Not yet.”
“You first,” he strains out, veins in his neck protruding so hard they could pop. “Then me.”
“You really about to come?”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t,” you offer, the most simple yet complicated and difficult task. “Or else I’ll have to clean it up.”
“Shut up, please.”
You kick your head back in a laugh, loving how he’s so puddy in your hands. “Fine, fine. Ready?”
“Hold on.. Just..” Shaking, he slips the condom on before leaning down, flipping you up so you’re on top wait what? “Ready.”
Leering down, you cannot believe he just did that. “You lazy piece of…”
Hoseok rests his head on his palms, smirk so cutting and dazzling. “Bounce for me if you’re so mad.”
Oh, you plan on it. “Gonna snap you in two, bitch.”
Damn that stupid laugh. “Please do.”
Mm. You get up and sink down, groaning when he does and start to slowly rise and fall, letting your legs warm up and feeling the burn in your thighs. But the feeling of having him inside overrides any pain, so you gladly sink onto him again and again.
The little curses and raspy praise are enough to keep you going, too. “So fucking hot.”
“Am I?” You pout, mewling when Hoseok reaches to smooth a thumb over a nipple. “I didn’t even do much today.”
It’s true. Pretty much no makeup other than some spray and sunscreen. You planned to stay home forever today, and your roommate was supposed to be gone.
“Doesn’t matter.” He touches you again before sliding slim fingers up to your chin, gripping and holding it high. “Still a killer.”
You suppress a smile before dipping your head against him just a tad. “Thank you,” you strain out, because somehow a genuine word of gratitude is hard.
And because you start to swirl around, huffing and feeling the heat in your legs build higher and higher. When Hoseok groans low, he grips your hips, starting to match your pace but lifting up instead. The slow, sensual movements loll you forward because holy fuck you feel full, and your moans start to pitch up the more your core starts to wind.
“There you go,” he goads, kicking his head back and gritting those beautiful teeth. “I feel it, baby.”
“Feel you, too,” you gasp out. “But I—My legs—”
Hoseok’s response is immediate. Without prompt, he flips you around, slamming you into the bed and thrusting up to stay there and torture you. “About fuckin’ time.”
“Huh?”
“Was waiting for my turn.” His mouth curves devilishly when you start to squirm, breathing hard because holy shit this feels way too good when he just stays still like that how is this alone affecting you so bad?
“Hobi, I’m actually—”
“Nope.”
Rocked and rocked again, you yelp high, realizing too late that your roommate is giving you all the business shit shit shit his pace is manic and his thrusts are so deep. “Fuck!”
“Uh huh.”
He does not stop. Every second is counting and you’re losing track of time. This man is hitting every spot just right, gripping onto your hips and going to fucking town. Your body has gone completely limp at some point, and you don’t remember when you’ve surrendered your head to his pillow—or are you even right side up anymore?
You crumple against his headboard and your legs flop over his shoulders but you don’t care. You are blissed out. Completely gone. Nothing exists except for him and whatever the hell he’s putting you through—the mattress, the floor, the poor neighbor’s wall right next to you, all the above.
“So fucking tight, fuck.”
Fuck, you feel it. You know you’re about to lose it and there’s almost no time to warn him. “Hobi, I’m—”
“Shit, I’m gonna—”
He collapses onto you, and you welcome him with arms slinging around his neck as he comes hard, groaning low and stuttering in his movements while you come just as hard, both of you straining and sweaty and slick from completely going at each other.
That release is exactly what you needed. Even through the breaths you inhale and exhale, beautifully crushed under your roommate's body weight, you're already settling into a state of zen. The stress starts to ebb, leaving you floating through a calmer, more relaxed state.
With even more things to think about.
“You still mad?”
Breathily chuckling at Hobi's straightforwardness, you gasp out, “Not anymore. You?”
Realizing what's happening, he lifts up, teeth gritting as he plops onto his mattress next to you. “No.”
“Good.”
He stares at your eyes before sliding down to your lips, then back up again for another hold. And it's the most confusing mix of things in your chest because you know for a fact he hasn't done that. Ever. Not with you, at least. Not like this.
You're the safety net, though. You both are for each other. So that's how you decide to define this scenario when you slip into a smile you hope's convincing, "Hell of a rebound this time, huh."
Hoseok blinks before he grins. And it shoots you straight through the heart. "Yeah... We're fuckin' good at this."
Your laugh is short but your matching grin is genuine. "The best to ever do it."
"Damn right."
—
—
True freedom comes a few days later.
On Monday, you’re finally done with work, which completely flips the feel of a normally dreaded day around.
And what makes this particular Monday even better?
There’s a showcase tonight. And you are completely free to go.
—
—
You’ll always love the energy in these warehouses. Honestly, you’ve been away for so long that you feel quite attached as soon as you walk in with random people onto the wide, bustling floor.
From the conversations you hear springing around you, to the music booming from the DJ booth, to the shouting and cheering of different rappers trying to make their mark on the scene, you truly bask in it all. It’s a wonder you mostly come to these alone, considering how often you show up.
Tonight, however, someone seems to keep talking to you and standing beside you for a good portion of the first two battles. And you really don’t need nor want their attention.
So you start making your way to the side of the crowd nearest to where the contestants enter the stage. By some stroke of luck, if Yoongi is here, you can hopefully use him as a get-out-of-stranger-interaction card because all these weeks of work has your social battery completely drained.
Like you can’t even muster the energy to tell them you really aren’t interested. And you don’t really see anyone else you know so it would be awkward to just dip.
Thank god.
Yoongi is here.
When you peek from the crowd, you’re a few rows away, so you have to get his attention somehow. Do you shout his name? Do you wave? Do you just stare lasers at him and hope he—
Oh. He’s looking at you.
How did he pick you out of the crowd so quick?
Suddenly, everyone else in the room melts away as your eyes find each other. Colors blur as you watch him pause on the stage stairs, sounds mute as he looks genuinely shocked to see you here.
You’re so thrown that you can’t even gesture to him that you’re being held hostage by a nice but annoying stranger. All you can focus on is how visceral your reaction is.
Because your breath is stolen and your whole body locks into place.
That last kiss you shared is all you can think about. That one, singular moment before Yoongi let you walk out of his room.
It was not normal.
It was not normal in the slightest.
But that’s just how you feel. For him? It could’ve just been another kiss and he could compare it to the thousands of lip locks he’s had. Why should you hold so much stock in it if he hasn't this whole time? Play it cool. Relax.
The moment passes, and he’s getting on stage to thunderous shouting and cheers. Like always, he doesn’t look at the crowd nor show much emotion, but you know there’s a storm brewing under that jacket just waiting to be unleashed.
You’re proven correct for two straight rounds.
It was a good match, though you have a feeling Yoongi held back a bit or wasn’t at a hundred percent. His delivery was rough in the right ways and just incredible on the ears, but you could tell something was missing. His fire wasn't as bright as before.
But everyone has their days. And he fucking won despite his dip in performance, which goes to show just how hard he works for this shit.
So you start leaving, eyes closed in quiet rage that this same person is still walking next to you. Do they think they have a legitimate chance? Awareness level zero.
You let them down easy and sigh in relief when they take the hint. But now you're left alone again with a long ass walk to your car. Great. Here you go.
Three steps towards the exit, you feel a vibration in your purse. Fishing out your phone, you see it's a number you haven't saved.
And your heart thrums into your shoes when you pick up, because you don't even have to answer when you hear one word.
“Wait.”
—
—
tbc :))
-
so.. what do we think lmaooo 🦋 | join the taglist :D | feedback box
a/n: and all roads lead to jung hoseok yet again lmfaooooo. but hey, if there's ever a time to be greedy.. it's here LOL. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, messages, and submissions in the feedback box are super appreciated. no one is ready for pt. 4 not even meeee :)))
a/n 2: all the names i’m gonna include that aren’t the members (or yijeong lol) are real life battle rappers! since there's no battle rappers showcased in this episode/chapter, let's just link to 2.0 by bts shall we lololol
++ feedback box: feedback box
⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated!
⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think!
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🦋 so.. who are you going on a date with if you had to choose?? 🦋
note 1: thank you so so much for the support! y'all you don’t know how much it means to me. also, pls don’t hesitate to let me know what you liked about the chapter with a message. it would mean so much. note 2: if your url is italicized, it means i couldn’t tag you!note 3: if you don’t want to be tagged on anything specific or want to be removed from the permanent taglist, just message me and i’ll remove you no prob!
note 1: thank you so so much for the support! y'all you don’t know how much it means to me. also, pls don’t hesitate to let me know what you liked about the chapter with a message. it would mean so much.
note 2: if your url is italicized, it means i couldn’t tag you!
note 3: if you don’t want to be tagged on anything specific or want to be removed from the permanent taglist, just message me and i’ll remove you no prob!
note 1: thank you so so much for the support! y'all you don’t know how much it means to me. also, pls don’t hesitate to let me know what you liked about the chapter with a message. it would mean so much.
note 2: if your url is italicized, it means i couldn’t tag you!
note 3: if you don’t want to be tagged on anything specific or want to be removed from the permanent taglist, just message me and i’ll remove you no prob!
Pairing: Seokjin x Reader
Other Tags: Photographer!Reader, College Student!Jin, Best Friend!Jimin, Minjoon
Genre: One night stand!AU, Christmas!AU, Childhood Friends (sorta)!AU, PWP, Angst, Smut, Fluff
Word Count: 18k+
Summary: Jin and Y/N agreed their Christmas break one-night stand would be just once. Feelings, however, were never part of the plan.
Warnings: alcohol consumption, insecure reader, feelings are hard, especially when you don't know what you're feeling, one night stand, porn with some plot, body message, protected sex (please use protection), vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), dry humping, panties to the side, multiple orgasms, this really just is porn with a slight plot, let me know if i missed anything...
A/N: I love how this little one-shot turned out. Hope you guys like it, too. Happy holidays everyone!
Night had come early, the way December always insists it will, sliding over roofs and yards and bare trees until the Christmas lights looked like small, patient galaxies pressed behind glass. Main Street glowed beneath streetlamps older than most of the people walking under them, their halos falling in soft, ownerless circles. Days-old snow clung to the curbs in gray, uneven ridges, more a memory of winter than winter itself.
The bar sat on the corner, its brick patched in mismatched colors, neon beer signs tinting the front window in shades nobody used anymore except in places like this. Inside, the air was uneven, warm in pockets, thin in others, threaded together by laughter and the lingering smell of hops. A digital jukebox hummed in the corner. The holiday week had drawn people back who’d long since moved away, leaving them to wander familiar places with the cautious curiosity of tourists in their own memories.
Y/N had taken one of the corner booths, the kind that had probably heard more confessions than St. Andrew’s down the street. The vinyl crackled when she shifted, peeling from her skin with a papery sound. The seat seemed to sigh every time she moved. She rested her cheek in her hand, elbow braced on the table. Her fingers left pale marks where they touched the cold glass, fading almost as soon as they appeared.
Across from her sat Seokjin Kim.
The overhead light caught his cheekbone when he shifted, turning the shine on his skin into something almost deliberate. His hair fell in soft, dark lines around his face, and his smile always arrived early, tugging at the corners of his mouth before his eyes decided to follow.
They hadn’t been friends. Not really. Not the kind who shared lunch tables or traded secrets. They were just names that existed near each other, siblings, overlapping friend groups, parties where one arrived as the other was heading out. Their paths crossed, and that was the extent of it.
After graduation, he’d gone south to Virginia for college. She’d gone to New Haven to work as a photographer for a wedding planning agency. Three years had passed since she’d last seen him, at least until earlier that night at the gas station three blocks down.
She could still feel the cold from that afternoon, the sharp bite beneath her coat, her breath drifting in thin white clouds as she clicked the pump into place. She’d looked up mostly to avoid checking her phone again, and there he was at the next pump, one gloved hand in his pocket, the other resting on the handle, wearing that universal why is gas this expensive expression.
His “Hey” had been cautious, the greeting you give someone you’re almost sure you know. Hers had matched it, tentative in a way that felt both silly and necessary. They’d traded the usual small talk: When’d you get in? How long are you here? How’s…everything? He’d asked if she wanted to get a drink later. She’d nodded with as much hesitation as she could manage.
Jin Kim had never shown much interest in her growing up. Despite attending the same school since kindergarten, and his brother dating her best friend, he’d somehow stayed at a careful distance from her life.
Still, she’d agreed. She hadn’t expected him to follow through. People said let’s get a drink the same way they said let’s hang out sometime.
But his name had shown up on her phone that evening.
And now here they were, tucked into a booth that smelled faintly of beer and lemon cleaner, the jukebox murmuring a song that had been popular the last time they’d seen each other with any regularity.
“So you’re a man,” she said.
The words slipped out on the warm tide of what was probably her third beer, maybe her fourth. Her eyes narrowed, though the smile tugging at her mouth ruined the effect.
Jin grinned back, just as tipsy. “That’s the rumor,” he said.
His voice sat in that smooth, easy middle range of his. He leaned in just enough for the lamp overhead to draw a clean line of light along his jaw and catch the faint gloss on his lips. She watched his hand around the bottle, the way his thumb traced the label in small, repeated circles, smudging the ink.
Something about the unconscious motion steadied her. At least he fidgeted like she did.
“Well,” she said, turning her glass and watching the beer slide along the sides, “I could use a man’s advice.”
He lifted an eyebrow, his face always reacting a beat early. “What kind of advice are we talking about?” Curious, but cautious enough to suggest he was already bracing himself.
Y/N let out a sigh from somewhere low in her chest. She wasn’t someone who asked for advice, not out loud. She was the type to Google answers at three in the morning, make a pros-and-cons list, then forget about it by sunrise.
But the beer had softened her. And there was something about Jin tonight, familiar enough to feel safe, distant enough not to make her tense, that made it easier to open up.
Norwalk had a way of pulling people back when they were between semesters, between jobs, between decisions. The whole town felt like a waiting room. No one planned to stay, but everyone had to sit with themselves for a while.
The bar, the street with the all-night laundromat, the dim bakery, the humming gas station, they all felt like props dragged out for one holiday week.
“I like to think I’m a reasonably attractive woman,” she said suddenly.
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Jin didn’t rush to agree, which somehow made the way he studied her feel more sincere. He tilted his head with exaggerated thoughtfulness, eyes narrowing as his gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth, along her jaw, then back again.
“I think,” he said at last, “if we’re being objective, you’re underselling yourself.”
Her throat fluttered, annoyingly obvious. She tried to cover it with an eye roll, but warmth still crept up the back of her ears. Compliments never landed cleanly. She’d learned to deflect them with humor before they could sink in.
But she wasn’t here for flattery. She had a point to make, and embarrassment wasn’t going to derail her.
“Thank you,” she said, dry as sand, dipping her head. “So tell me, oh wise one, why haven’t I had sex in two years?”
Jin inhaled at exactly the wrong moment.
He choked, coughing hard enough to draw a few glances as beer went down the wrong pipe. His shoulders jerked, his eyes went wide, and he thumped his chest.
“Jesus,” he wheezed, half-laughing between coughs. “You can’t just,” cough, “drop that mid-sentence.”
She slid a napkin toward him, failing to hide her grin. “Drink responsibly.”
He cleared his throat, taking a careful breath. His face had gone pink, embarrassment, laughter, or both.
“So,” he said slowly, “is this a medical question?”
“I’m serious, idiot.” She laughed under her breath and dragged a hand down her face. “I think I need a one-night stand.”
The words sounded blunt out loud, flatter than the mess of reasons behind them. What she missed wasn’t romance. It was simpler than that: the warmth of someone breathing against her shoulder, the weight of another body shifting beside hers, the small, unspoken touches that didn’t need permission.
“Need,” Jin repeated, stretching the word like he was testing it. “Strong choice.”
She shrugged. “I don’t have prospects. No one I want, no one who wants me. And despite what some people might assume, I do have a body. With needs.”
Jin took a cautious sip this time. “I’ve heard rumors,” he said solemnly. “About needs. And about…equipment. Very advanced. For emergencies.”
She groaned and leaned back, letting her head thunk against the booth. “Now you sound like Jimin.”
“That feels like a compliment,” he said, “but your face says otherwise.”
“Would you believe,” she said, holding up a finger like she was presenting evidence, “that he got me a dildo for Christmas?”
Jin barked out a loud, startled laugh, enough to make an older couple glance over. He slapped the table, shaking his head.
“Of course he did,” he said finally. “I don’t know why I expected anything else.”
“He wrapped it,” she added flatly. “With a bow. My dad almost opened it.”
That sent him into another fit of laughter, bending forward until his forehead nearly met the bottle.
“So technically,” he said once he recovered, “you’re prepared. Why the quest for actual human company?”
“Because it’s not the same thing, Jin.” She leaned in, lowering her voice even though no one was listening. “Don’t tell me plastic replaces the real thing.”
He lifted both hands in surrender. “Oh, I know. Humanity is relying on them not being interchangeable. If someone invents a perfect substitute, we’re doomed. We’d stop speaking to each other by spring.”
The joke faded, and something quieter settled between them. When Jin looked at her again, it wasn’t at her face.
“But seriously,” he said, tipping his bottle toward her, “why has it been that long? Two years is…a stretch.”
“To celibacy?” she offered weakly.
“To something,” he said. “Self-preservation? Bad timing? A committed relationship with Netflix?”
Her thumb worried at the beer label, peeling it into small, damp curls. She focused on the scraps instead of his eyes.
“My last breakup was awful,” she said finally. The word didn’t come close, but she wasn’t opening that door. “After that, I didn’t have the energy for someone else’s moods or expectations. I buried myself in work and school. It was easier to just…stop wanting anything.”
Jin didn’t rush to fill the silence. He listened, steady and unhurried, his bottle resting on the table while his thumb traced slow circles in the wood.
“For a while, I didn’t even notice,” she went on. “Then sometime this year, I realized I missed being touched. Being wanted.” Her mouth twisted. “But the idea of doing anything about it felt exhausting.”
“Meaning?” he prompted.
“Meaning I go out with Jimin and Nina, and people only ever hit on them.” She lifted a hand, the gesture small and tired. “Every time. I’m holding everyone’s drinks while they’re getting free shots or asked for their Instagrams.”
She traced a line of condensation down her glass. “And the kicker? I’m the only one who’s single. They’re not even interested. At this point, it’s honestly insulting.”
Jin’s mouth curved into a crooked smile. “So your main problem is that your gay best friend gets more male attention than you?”
“Yes,” she said, pointing at him. “Exactly. It’s an insult to something. My dignity. Physics. I don’t know. Isn’t that weird?”
He didn’t answer right away.
The room filled the pause, the clack of pool balls, the bartender laughing, the jukebox switching tracks.
“And you want strangers in bars to hit on you?” he asked at last.
“No,” she said immediately. Then, “I mean, yes. No. Not really.” The words tangled. She groaned. “I don’t want creepy guys calling me baby. I just want to feel…noticed. Like I’m an option. Like I’m not invisible.”
His expression softened. He tapped his fingers against the bottle once, then again.
“Has it ever occurred to you,” he said carefully, “that it shows?”
She frowned. “What shows? That I’m horny and pathetic? Because I promise I’m not trying to broadcast that.”
He huffed a laugh. “No. That you’re…above it.”
“Above what? Being attractive? Wanting attention?” Her brows knit. “I’m not some pick-me, Jin. I like both of those things.”
“I mean you’re above the game,” he said. “You don’t, how do I put this, you don’t come off as very approachable. At least not to guys in bars.”
She stared at him. “Am I supposed to look more…approachable?”
He shrugged. “Drunk guys are moths. They go for the brightest, easiest light. Someone loud, leaning in, laughing at everything. Someone who looks like they’ll say yes.”
“And I don’t look easy?” she asked, eyebrow lifting.
“I’m saying you look like you have standards,” he said. “Like you’re not going to toss them aside because some guy with a jawline and a whiskey sour calls you pretty.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Because she knew. She crossed her arms. Leaned away. Watched rooms instead of inviting them in.
“I’m still not convinced,” she said finally, her voice softer. “Jimin doesn’t come off like he’d sleep with anyone, and Nina has a mean streak with dudes who get too familiar.”
“Sure,” Jin said. “But they like attention. Jimin walks into a room and everyone decides in five seconds if he’s their type. Nina’s a model. It’s not hard to see why guys shoot their shot.” He tipped his bottle toward her. “You,” he said, “are more like a favorite book on a shelf someone’s nervous to pull down.”
She blinked. “That’s insulting.”
“Think about it.” He leaned in, hands moving as he talked. “You’re put together. You look smart. You’re not sloppy or clingy. You have opinions. You look like you’d call someone out if they said something stupid. Most guys won’t risk that in front of their friends. They go for easy.”
“So what you’re saying,” she said slowly, “is that I’m unapproachable.”
“I’m saying you’re not easy mode,” he said, a corner of his mouth lifting. “You’re…unlockable content.”
She snorted. “Are you seriously comparing me to a video game?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
She thought of Nina, how she laughed with her whole body, how she touched people when she talked, how she leaned in instead of away. She thought of herself beside them, arms folded, posture guarded, half-present, half somewhere else.
Her fingers drummed against the table. “So that’s your big insight? That I need to be easier? Smile more?”
He winced. “God, no. Am I sounding like a dick?”
Despite herself, she smiled. “A little. Or maybe you’re just trying too hard.” She shrugged. “Either way, I don’t like being treated like I’m defective because I’m not outgoing. Plenty of reserved people don’t have trouble getting laid.”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being reserved,” he said. “I just think if you’re hunting for a good fuck at a bar, being reserved works against you. Like I said, why approach you when someone else looks simpler?”
Her jaw tightened. She let the silence stretch, easier than sitting with his words. Her gaze drifted past him to the bottles lined up behind the bar.
The neat rows were oddly soothing, tall and short, green and brown, labels catching the glow of the light strip beneath the shelf. Orderly. Predictable. Each one quietly promising the same temporary comforts people had always come here for: courage, distraction, a night that felt easier than it should.
They looked trapped in their glass, holding other people’s confessions and bad decisions under metal caps. She watched them like they might have an answer Jin didn’t.
Because what he’d said had landed harder than she expected. Of course it was safer to look uninterested. Safer to be unreachable. Safer to raise an eyebrow than risk looking foolish. Easier to stand on the sidelines pretending the game didn’t matter than to step into it and hope someone didn’t drop what you offered.
“What if I don’t actually know how to do the first one?” she asked quietly.
The honesty surprised her, no joke, no edge. She stared at the damp ring on the table, then made herself look back at him.
“The easy mode setting,” she added, like it was a switch she’d never learned to use. “What does that even look like?”
Jin leaned back, the vinyl squeaking beneath him. For a moment he looked the way he used to in school when he was thinking too hard, brow furrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth, trying to coax the right answer out.
He stretched an arm along the back of the booth, fingers tapping idly, suddenly looking like a professor who’d wandered into the wrong class.
“Okay,” he said slowly, like he was building instructions from scratch. “Start small.”
He tilted his head, thinking.
“When you’re out with your friends,”
“Assuming I ever go out again after this absolutely destroys my self-esteem,” she muttered.
He laughed, warm and easy. “You’re building character. And for what it’s worth, I don’t mind talking about this stuff.”
She made a face, but the sting had faded.
“When you’re with them,” he went on, “don’t hover. Be in the group, not behind it.”
He started counting on his fingers, each point annoyingly simple.
“Uncross your arms. Put your phone away. And if someone looks at you, don’t immediately panic and look away like they’re Medusa. Hold their gaze for two seconds. Three, if you’re feeling brave. See what happens.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Three seconds is a long time.”
“It really isn’t,” he said at once.
“In normal time, maybe. In awkward time, it’s an eternity. That’s like reliving all of middle school in one go.”
He laughed, real, head-tipped-back laughter. Even the bartender glanced over with a smile before returning to the glasses.
“You’re not wrong,” he said. “But that’s kind of the point. You have to stay long enough for the fear to turn into something else. Curiosity. Interest. Attraction, if the universe is feeling generous. If you bail at one-and-a-half seconds, they get the message and”
“And go straight to Nina,” she said.
“That is exactly correct,” he replied.
A small, fond sound escaped her. “Or Jimin, depending on the night. You should see him when he gets all dressed up.”
“But Jimin wants that attention,” Jin said, straightening like he was about to perform.
He rolled his shoulders back, lifted his chin, widened his eyes, and flashed a slow, theatrical smile that transformed his posture. His wrists went loose as he struck an invisible pose.
“‘Look at me,’” he declared airily. “‘Admire me. Worship me.’”
It was affectionate, not mocking. She could see Jimin in every exaggerated movement, the confidence, the glow, the effortless way he owned a room.
She laughed, loud and genuine. “That’s terrifyingly accurate. He’d love it.”
“As he should,” Jin said, dropping the act. “The point is, everything about him says, I like being seen.”
He took a slow sip, watching her.
“I don’t?” she asked.
The question came out smaller than she meant it to.
“No,” he said simply. He tipped his bottle toward her, like a teaching aid. “Your energy says, ‘Don’t bother. I will shut this down.’”
She blinked. Once. Twice.
“It’s that obvious?” she asked, not defensive, just honestly curious.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing,” he said, and the care in his voice was unmistakable. “Not wanting random drunk guys all over you is healthy. It just means you have boundaries. You’re selective. And a lot of guys won’t risk that. They’re not signing up to get publicly rejected.”
She exhaled, annoyed, and started peeling the label off her bottle, tearing it into soft curls.
“But Jimin and Nina turn people down all the time,” she said, hearing the whine in her own voice. “They’re not exactly collecting numbers. Half the time they don’t even remember who bought them drinks.”
“Oh, I believe that,” Jin said. “And I’m sure they’re not gentle about it.” He shrugged. “But they still look like they want to be approached. They’re friendly. They’re chatty. And you know a drink doesn’t always mean someone expects sex, right? Some guys understand it’s just a shot in the dark.”
He wiggled his fingers to underline the point.
“They say yes to the attention,” he said. “Even if they say no to everything else.”
Y/N leaned back, letting the booth support her. The vinyl stuck faintly to her shoulders. As someone passed, the overhead light shifted, washing her face in soft bands of shadow and gold, catching the tension in her brow, the line of her cheek, the flicker of interest breaking through her skepticism.
She pictured herself the way Jin saw her, arms crossed, expression guarded, eyes scanning instead of welcoming. Then she thought of Nina and Jimin, how their bodies always angled toward people, even when they planned to turn them down. They weren’t easy. They were open.
“Huh,” she said at last. Just a small, puzzled sound. “Interesting.”
They shared a tired, crooked smile. The jukebox sputtered, then launched into an early-2000s song everyone seemed to recognize. A few people hummed along, off-key. Someone at the bar tapped a fist in time. The room softened around the music.
“And about the one-night stand,” Jin said, gently steering them back, “you know it doesn’t really fix the part where you want to feel wanted.”
Her thumb traced slow circles in the condensation ring on the table.
“It scratches the itch,” he went on. “Sure. But if you’re lying there wondering, Why me? Why tonight? then you’re just doing a more naked version of what you already do.”
He lifted a hand, palm open.
“Same insecurity,” he said softly. “Less clothing.”
She exhaled, a sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, smearing the condensation into a thin, bright streak.
“So what’s your official man advice, then?” she asked. She tried for sarcasm, but it came out gentle. “Order a pizza and accept my fate?”
He set his bottle down carefully, the glass ticking against the table, and met her eyes.
“My advice,” he said, “is to stop acting like there’s a scoreboard where your value drops every month you’re not sleeping with someone.”
Her throat tightened.
Y/N leaned back, letting the booth support her. The vinyl stuck faintly to her shoulders. As someone passed, the overhead light shifted, washing her face in soft bands of shadow and gold, catching the tension in her brow, the line of her cheek, the flicker of interest breaking through her skepticism.
The jukebox slid into another old song, the speakers crackling at the edges. Voices blended into the bar’s low hum, stories overlapping, jokes half-finished, a muted argument about sports. Glasses clinked as the bartender stacked them, each sound a brief punctuation mark in the night.
Someone laughed at the bar; someone else followed. The regulars, people stitched into the town like initials carved into old desks, returned to their routines without looking up.
The warm light over their booth caught on Jin as if it had chosen him. It skimmed his cheekbone, traced the clean line of his nose, lingered in the easy rise and fall of his lashes. His eyes reflected it back, steady and warm.
For a moment, she saw him layered across time, memories lining up behind the present.
The boy from high school surfaced first, laughing with his whole face, head tipped back, shoulders loose. Always drifting between groups, between conversations. Part of everything, anchored to nothing. Easy to notice, hard to pin down.
That version faded, and the man across from her came into focus.
He wore thin silver glasses now, the kind that suited him almost too well. His dark hair fell neatly across his forehead, styled to look casual in a way that clearly wasn’t. She remembered the mullet he’d once worn with teenage confidence. This was a better fit. Older. Polished.
He looked settled in himself, comfortable with the space he took up. More adult than she felt. She, at least, had graduated from the bright pink snow boots and pajama shorts she’d worn to grab the mail that morning. Tonight she’d managed a black outfit that suggested competence, even if she’d nearly ruined it with leg warmers out of habit.
Running into him at the gas station had felt like a harmless small-town coincidence. Norwalk had a way of pulling people back into the same orbit around the holidays. It had seemed forgettable then.
But here, beneath the tired glow of Main Street’s oldest bar, with the jukebox humming something familiar, it felt like more. Like that chance meeting had been the first nudge in a chain reaction she hadn’t recognized until now.
The room carried on around them, laughter, clinking glass, chairs scraping wood, but their booth felt separate. A small pause inside the noise.
She watched him sit there in the light, breathing it in.
“So,” Jin said gently, breaking into her thoughts, “you want to get laid. Not start a relationship?”
He held his beer with both hands, thumbs resting against the glass like he needed the anchor. From anyone else, the question might have sounded crude. From him, it was calm, almost clinical, like confirming symptoms before offering advice.
She bit her lower lip, forcing herself not to answer too quickly. Inhaled. Held it. Let it out.
No. She didn’t want a relationship.
The realization came with a strange mix of relief and sadness. Relationships asked for things she didn’t have much of, patience, vulnerability, the willingness to let her life tangle with someone else’s. Most of the men she’d known hadn’t wanted partners anyway. They wanted comfort. Ease. Reflection.
She didn’t have the bandwidth for that. Not now. Maybe not for a long time.
What she wanted was simpler and messier. To feel grounded again. To feel another body’s weight against hers, not to prove anything, just to remind herself she still existed as more than a mind running too fast.
“Basically,” she said.
Jin straightened slightly, then leaned forward, folding his arms on the table as if settling into a decision.
“Well then,” he said quietly, “I have a suggestion.”
Her eyebrows lifted. Suspicion, curiosity, and a reluctant smile all tried to surface at once.
“I’m listening.”
He looked down at the damp ring his bottle had left on the table, focusing on it for a beat. His fingers tightened around the neck.
“How about me?”
Her brain stalled.
“How about you…what?” she asked.
“For a one-night stand.”
He took a slow drink. She watched his throat move as he swallowed. He didn’t look up right away, like he wasn’t ready to see her reaction. The jukebox hiccupped into a new song. A chair scraped. Someone laughed. Everything sounded far away.
“Why would you want to?” she asked.
The question came out thin, barely touching the swarm behind it. Why me? Why now?
His eyebrows rose, surprised, not annoyed.
“Are you serious?” he said. “I don’t know many guys who wouldn’t, Y/N.” He exhaled softly, half amused, half baffled that he needed to explain. “And,” he added more quietly, “I have needs too.”
The word landed harder than she expected. Her throat tightened. Heat curled low in her stomach before she could stop it.
“Okay, bad question,” she said quickly, waving it off. “I just meant, don’t you have a girlfriend or something? You never really seemed like someone who’s…alone.”
She meant it honestly. Jin had always carried himself like someone people naturally gravitated toward, the kind of quiet confidence that made orbiting him feel easy. He tilted his head, considering, then shrugged.
“No,” he said. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
He said it lightly, but the way he rolled his shoulders and glanced away told her it hadn’t come quite so easily.
“Would it surprise you,” he added, “that it’s been about six months for me?”
She blinked. “Seriously?”
He nodded.
“Well… yeah,” she said. “It does. Why so long?”
He laughed, warm and easy. “It’s been two years for you,” he pointed out. “And you’re interrogating my six months? That feels like a double standard.”
“I guess,” she admitted, rolling her bottle between her palms. “It’s just that… you’re… you.”
His brow creased. “What does that mean?”
She didn’t bother softening it. “I can’t picture women not throwing themselves at you.”
She wasn’t flattering him, just stating a fact. She’d seen how rooms shifted when he entered them, how conversations angled in his direction. Attraction had its own physics, and Jin carried his own center of gravity.
“And if they do,” he said, brows knitting, “does that mean you think I’m incapable of saying no?”
“You’re a man,” she said, lifting her hands in mock surrender, a half-smirk tugging at her mouth. “And you did just offer to be my one-night stand. Feels like evidence.”
He barked out a laugh, head tipping back, teeth flashing in the light. He shook his head, amused.
“Yes,” he said, “but that’s not my usual behavior. I’m actually pretty selective.” He paused, then added dryly, “Ask my mom. She’s convinced I’ve destroyed her chances at grandchildren by being ‘too picky.’”
“Is that why it’s been six months?” she asked, teasing but genuinely curious.
He hesitated, not enough to be dramatic, just enough for her to notice. His hand stilled around the bottle; his gaze flicked aside, then back.
“Sort of,” he said. “There’s more to it, but it’s not something I want to unpack tonight.”
The rest of it hovered there, a shape without details. She felt the tug of curiosity but let it pass. Not everything needed to be opened right now.
She nodded, signaling she wasn’t pushing. Her hand went to her hair automatically, twisting it back, holding it for a second, then letting it fall. The familiar motion steadied her as her thoughts caught up.
“So,” Jin said, his voice gentler now, “now that you know I’m single and not a man-whore,” his mouth twitched, “what do you think about my offer?”
Her heart tripped, stumbled, then picked up again in a loud, uneven rhythm she couldn’t control.
“I don’t know, Jin,” she said. The words felt precarious, like testing ice and hearing it crack. “Isn’t this… complicated?”
She gestured between them. “With Joon. Jimin. Everyone.”
The names landed heavier than she’d meant them to. Namjoon was his brother. Jimin was her best friend. Their circles overlapped just enough that nothing stayed quiet for long. She could already imagine Jimin’s teasing, Nina’s questions, Yoongi’s slow, wordless judgment. None of it was cruel, just overwhelming. The thought of becoming a topic made her stomach knot.
Jin leaned forward, folding his arms on the table. Something in him settled, like indecision snapping into place.
“They’re not here,” he said gently.
He glanced around at the strangers, the door swinging open and shut, the hum of conversations no one was tracking.
“No one knows us,” he went on. “No one’s remembering anything tomorrow. And you and I…” He paused. “We cross paths sometimes, sure. But we’re not tangled in each other’s daily lives. It doesn’t have to get messy.”
The calm certainty in his voice steadied her more than she expected. She reached for her bottle out of habit, but before she could touch it, his hand slid across the table and closed around hers.
“Y/N,” he said quietly.
Her name sounded different in his mouth, lower, careful. His thumb brushed once over her knuckles, not flirtatious so much as grounding, like he was telling her she didn’t have to run.
“Why shouldn’t we help each other out?” he asked.
The question settled low in her chest.
“Unless…” His eyes stayed on hers, unwavering. “Unless you’re not attracted to me.”
From someone else, it might have felt like a challenge. From him, it was an out, clean and unpressured.
She laughed too quickly, a thin sound meant to hide the sudden spike of nerves.
“Do you find me attractive?” she shot back before she could stop herself. If he was risking it, she wasn’t leaving him alone out there.
“I asked you first,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. His eyes stayed serious. “And I already told you I think you’re more than reasonably attractive.”
“Right,” she said, her pulse thudding all the way to her fingertips. “But I thought you meant… objectively.”
“I like to think I’m an objective guy,” he said lightly, warmth softening the joke. He didn’t look away. He just waited, steady and patient.
“Now,” he said quietly, “answer me. Please.”
The bar noise, laughter, clinking glass, the jukebox grinding through its playlist, faded to the edges.
There was only his hand around hers. His eyes holding hers.
And the question.
Did she find him attractive?
Attractive felt too small, too generic, something you said about a nice jawline or a lingering cologne.
Jin didn’t fit into a word that neat.
In high school, he’d been the kind of boy people noticed without trying, the one you spotted across a room and followed with your eyes before you realized you were doing it. Always laughing. Always comfortable in his body in a way she never was. Some girls wrote his name in notebooks; others watched him like he was something happening just out of reach.
She’d watched too. Quietly. From the edges, where she tended to stand.
He belonged to the warm part of adolescence. She’d hovered at the fringe of her own life, thinking too much, speaking too little.
Boys like him didn’t look twice at girls like her. And yet here he was, his fingers around hers, his thumb brushing her skin like a check-in, not a claim. His gaze was steady, open. Not cocky. Not assuming. He wasn’t a memory or a distant constellation. He was here.
Attractive wasn’t even close.
There was a pull to him, quiet and persistent, the kind you didn’t notice until you were already leaning into it. Not flashy or loud, but edged. The sort of pull you treated carefully, because wanting him felt like something that might rearrange more than you intended. A choice that wouldn’t reset cleanly once made.
He wasn’t dangerous in a dramatic sense. Just in the realistic one. Some possibilities, once imagined, were hard to take back. And she couldn’t say that out loud. Couldn’t admit that one night with him might ruin her for the smaller, safer choices she’d been making, or that the idea of his hands on her felt like something she’d carry long after the night ended.
So she didn’t say anything. She just looked at him. Her breath stayed shallow, like her lungs were afraid to move too much. Her pulse picked up, restless and insistent.
He still held her hand, his thumb tracing slow passes along her knuckles, steady, unhurried, impossible to ignore. Each brush sent a quiet jolt up her arm, a reminder of how close he was.
“What was the question again?” she asked.
The laugh threaded through her voice was thin, stretched tight over nerves she couldn’t hide. His mouth curved into that almost-smile she’d been trying not to track all night, not the full thing, just enough to hint at it.
“Am I attractive to you, Y/N?” he asked.
Her name settled too easily in his voice, soft enough to make the rest of the bar fall away.
“Attractive enough,” he added, “that you’d want to spend the night with me?”
He winked. She felt it in her throat.
“Oh,” she said. “I’d say you’re…adequately dazzling.”
Light words. Warm truth.
“Is that a yes?”
He leaned in slightly, close enough for her to notice a small freckle along his jaw. His expression softened into something open, hopeful, almost boyish.
She slid her hand from his. Slowly. Too slowly. The absence of his touch was abrupt and cold, like stepping out of a heated room. She looked anywhere but at him, the bottles, the neon sign, the bartender. Anywhere that wasn’t his face.
Distance. Just for a second.
Could she do this? Leave the bar with him, this real man, not the boy she’d once watched across crowded rooms? Could she cross that line and live with what followed?
She already knew the answer. She’d known it the moment he took her hand. Her skin still remembered the shape of his fingers, the warmth, the pressure.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Barely audible, but he heard it. Or felt it. Or saw it in the way her body angled toward him, in the brief drop of her gaze to his mouth. He inhaled sharply, not a laugh, not a joke. Something caught.
“Just this once,” she added quickly, reaching for structure, rules, edges, anything solid. “And I’m not doing it in a car.”
His grin broke open then, wide, bright, real. Dimples appearing, heat flaring low in her stomach.
“I think,” he said, voice threaded with that smile, “we can work around that.”
She couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a second. Instead, she watched his fingers tap once against the table. He rolled his shoulders back, decision settling in. His chair scraped as he stood.
When she finally looked up, he was beside the booth. From here, he looked taller. The overhead light washed his face in warm gold and stretched his shadow across the floor. One hand rested on the chair; the other reached for her, palm up, open, waiting.
“You ready?” he asked.
Her instinct was to stall, to ask for time, for distance, for a different version of herself. But that wasn’t what came.
As ready as I’ll ever be.
She slid toward the edge of the booth. The vinyl squeaked one last protest as she stood, her legs stiff, like they were waking up from too much adrenaline.
His hand was still there. She took it. His fingers closed around hers.
For a few seconds, everything sharpened. Not dreamy, just vivid. The bar grew louder, colors clearer, the air thinner, like someone had turned the world’s resolution up.
They moved away from the booth. Behind them, the candle flickered, their half-finished drinks sweated on the table, her bottle’s condensation ring widening slowly. The bar carried on, darts thudding, someone shouting for another round, laughter breaking loose, but it all receded into background noise.
Outside, the cold hit her face like a damp cloth. Norwalk was half-asleep. The sky stretched dark and star-scattered. Streetlamps cast soft circles on salted sidewalks. Snow clung to curbs in dirty ridges. Christmas lights sagged from porches in tired loops. Across the street, a wire reindeer blinked unevenly, one bulb dead. A faint pine scent hung in the air, tree lot or wreath, layered over the distant breath of the ocean.
Their breaths rose in pale clouds. He didn’t let go of her hand. If anything, his grip tightened as they walked toward the parking lot. She let him.
The pavement was cold beneath her boots. Keys jingled. Gravel shifted. Somewhere down the street, a truck rumbled past.
She didn’t question the speed of it, or the recklessness. Thoughts about what this meant hovered at the edges of her mind but never landed. There was only his hand, warm and steady, and the decision she’d already made.
She slid into the passenger seat. The car smelled faintly of old coffee and whatever soap he used. The fabric scratched through her jeans. Her heart thudded hard enough that she wondered if he’d hear it once he climbed in.
Three footsteps. A door handle lifting. The soft thud of the door closing. The engine turned over. Dashboard lights bloomed blue and green. The radio burst to life with a DJ’s too-cheerful voice, far too loud for midnight.
Jin flinched and scrambled for the volume knob, color creeping into his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Forgot that was on.”
“It’s fine,” she said.
Her voice sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else.
He pulled out of the lot with careful glances at his mirrors. The attention steadied her more than she expected. Whatever else this was, he used his turn signals on empty streets.
Norwalk slid past the windows, dark storefronts, a convenience store buzzing too brightly, closed shops reduced to shadow. The town looked paused mid-blink.
Christmas decorations blurred together, strings of lights, sagging inflatables, wreaths curling at the edges. Reds and greens smeared as the houses thinned, lawns widening, porch lights growing scarce. The gaps between streetlamps stretched into pockets of near-dark the car slipped through like a moving shadow. Warm air blew at their feet. The turn signal clicked in a slow, steady rhythm.
Dashboard light washed Jin’s knuckles in blue. He drove one-handed, the other resting on his knee, fingers tapping softly. Her hands tangled in her lap, untangling, retangling. Her palm still held the memory of his touch: warmth, pressure, something her skin wasn’t ready to release.
At a red light, his free hand shifted. He didn’t reach for her. He simply turned his palm up in the space between them, open and unhurried. She noticed the faint scar near his thumb. The stillness of the gesture. The fact that he wasn’t pushing, just letting the option exist.
She hesitated for one breath, then placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers slowly, his thumb settling along the side of her index finger. Solid. Certain.
The light turned green, spilling color across the dash. He gave her hand a brief squeeze before easing the car forward. Their hands stayed between the seats, resting there like they belonged.
She could have filled the silence, small talk, weather complaints, jokes about friends. Neither of them reached for the escape.
The quiet settled, full but not awkward. The heater hummed. Tires whispered over asphalt. The engine purred beneath it all.
“Left up here,” he murmured, mostly to himself.
Underneath everything, a steady thrum ran through her, anticipation, nerves, adrenaline, beating with the engine, in her wrists, her throat, the hollow behind her ribs. A reminder that she was awake. Choosing this.
A few minutes later, the twenty-four-hour convenience store appeared at the edge of town, its windows glaring bright. Gas pumps stood beneath buzzing lights. The lot was nearly empty.
He pulled in. Gravel and salt crackled under the tires. The headlights swept over shelves of chips and soda before he parked beside the building, half-hidden by a wall and a scraggly shrub.
“Got the munchies?” she asked, aiming for lightness. Mostly, she wanted to know why they’d stopped.
“Um, no,” he said.
Even in the dim light, she saw the flush climb his neck. His fingers slipped from hers, reluctant, and went to his seatbelt. He fumbled with the buckle, suddenly less composed than he’d been all night.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t exactly prepared for this.”
It took her a second to catch up.
“Oh.”
Heat rushed up her neck. “Sorry,” she blurted, though she wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for.
“It’s okay,” he said quickly. He unbuckled and reached for the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Cold air rushed in as he stepped out. The door shut. She watched him hurry toward the bright entrance, shoulders hunched against the cold. The automatic doors slid open and swallowed him in fluorescent light.
She sagged back and let out a long breath.
Thank God he’d parked on the side.
She could picture the alternative too clearly, pulling up to the pumps under floodlights, someone’s aunt or old teacher spotting them, the town’s rumor mill spinning to life before morning. Norwalk loved its stories. She could already hear them being retold in bakery lines and church basements.
This way, at least, there was cover.
She stared at the blank metal siding through the windshield. The heater hummed. Her fingers tapped lightly against her thighs. The absurdity of it settled in, grown adults, midnight, sitting in the dark while Jin Kim ran inside to buy condoms.
A minute later, the door opened again. Cold air rushed in as Jin slid back into the driver’s seat, shoulders tightening with a quick shiver.
“Well,” he said, shutting the door with an exhale, “that was…interesting.”
He rubbed his hands together, blew into them, then shook his head, like he still couldn’t quite believe it.
“Did you know Jungkook works here?” he asked, like he was breaking news.
“Jeon?” she said. He nodded. “No.”
Her voice stayed flat, but her thoughts spiked.
“I think he was jealous,” Jin added.
She snapped toward him so fast the seatbelt bit into her shoulder. “What? Did he know I was out here?”
The panic in her voice made him laugh, actually laugh, his head tipping back against the seat.
“No,” he said, still grinning. “Not jealous of me. Jealous of you. If you catch my drift.”
He shot her a sideways glance, amused in a low-key, smug way. “I’m just saying, I may have had a backup option tonight.”
She stared at him for a beat, then burst out laughing.
“Of course you did,” she said, dragging a hand down her face. “You go in to buy condoms and somehow attract more attention.”
“What can I say?” Jin shrugged. “I’m very approachable in the snack aisle.”
That did it. The laughter that came felt real, loose and unforced. Something unclenched in her chest that she hadn’t realized she was holding. Warmth crept into her cheeks, not from embarrassment this time, but relief.
“So,” she said once it faded, “where exactly are we going?”
Jin tapped the steering wheel, eyes forward, looking like he was mapping unfamiliar terrain instead of a town he knew by heart.
“Well,” he said, “we can’t go to either of our houses.”
“Obviously.”
The mental image, sneaking him past her parents, the dog losing its mind, childhood photos glaring down, nearly made her snort.
“What about the motel outside town?” he suggested.
The word motel landed wrong. Too many images surfaced at once: faded bedspreads, suspicious carpets, horror-movie lighting. Her face must’ve given her away, because he winced before she could respond.
“Hey,” he said, lifting his hands slightly. “I’m not worried about my reputation. Double standards took care of that years ago.”
Guilt pricked her immediately. She hadn’t meant to imply any of that, but it had been there, tangled in her hesitation.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean”
“It’s okay,” he cut in gently.
He smiled, crooked and sincere, though a little thin at the edges. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”
She blinked. “How?”
“It means,” he said, fingers brushing the wheel, “you think I have options.”
She huffed, tension easing. “I honestly can’t think of anywhere better,” she admitted. “And… I’m sorry if I said something crappy earlier. About your options.”
“Nah,” he said immediately.
He brushed it off, but she caught the flicker, a brief crease between his brows, a quick look away. Something unguarded slipped through before he smoothed it over.
“It’s fine,” he repeated, quieter.
He turned the key. The engine vibrated through the car, through her seat, through her spine. As they pulled away, the convenience store’s harsh lights shrank in the rearview mirror, swallowed by dark.
She watched him as they merged back onto the road. Each streetlamp lit his profile in pieces, jaw, cheekbone, brow, the hint of a dimple he rarely let show. Then shadow again. Then light, offering her another angle: focus, tension, quiet resolve.
He wasn’t the boy she remembered from high school, laughing in doorways like nothing could touch him. He was this man, steady hands on the wheel, measured breaths, offering her exits even though everything about him said he wanted to keep going.
Something warm and unsettling tightened in her chest. Not fear. Not the old nerves of being seen too clearly. Anticipation, slow and deliberate. The sense of crossing into something she couldn’t undo. Whatever happened next would linger. She could already feel it, subtle but undeniable, right where his hand had held hers.
The motel emerged from the dark the way motels always did, plain, tired, suspended between usefulness and neglect. Its VACANCY sign flickered unevenly, neon buzzing like it wasn’t convinced it should advertise at all. Paint peeled from the railings. Every door looked the same, numbers slightly crooked. A soda machine cast a cold blue glow over cracked pavement. Somewhere inside, a TV murmured beneath a canned laugh track.
It wasn’t filthy. Just worn. Slouched at the edges, like it had once tried harder and decided functional was enough.
People in town talked about the place the way small towns talked about everything, with stories that were half true and fully exaggerated. Prom nights. Breakups. Bad decisions made too fast. She’d never been inside. Only heard about it.
The car rolled into the lot, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Neither of them spoke. The silence felt intentional, almost protective. Possibility pressed between them like a change in air pressure. Her nerves twisted low in her stomach, climbed into her chest, lodged in her throat.
No movie had prepared her for this part. No soundtrack. No artful lighting. Just two people sitting in a car, trying to be brave, and trying not to think too hard about what came next.
Her thoughts spiraled. Had she shaved this morning, or yesterday? Was her underwear neutral, or the comfortable-but-questionable kind? Did people forget how sex worked after two years? Her nerves said yes. Her body said maybe not. Her heart, reckless as ever, whispered stay.
Jin parked near a ground-level door and cut the engine. The headlights snapped off. Neon buzzed overhead. For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then he looked at her.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
It wasn’t a throwaway question. His eyes left space, for her to say no, to change her mind, to end this with an awkward laugh and a drive home.
She opened her mouth, closed it, then said, “Ask me again in an hour.”
He let out a soft laugh, relieved and warm. “Deal.”
They stepped out into the cold. It hit her fast and sharp, clearing her head. Their breath rose in pale clouds. His steps stayed close but never crowded.
He unlocked the door with a plastic-tagged key. The lock clunked, not reassuring, not alarming. He stepped aside, letting her go in first.
The room was exactly what she’d expected: small, dated, functional. A double bed with a faded floral comforter. Brown carpet chosen for its forgiveness. A nightstand with a yellowed lampshade and a landline that belonged in another decade. A TV bolted to a dresser. A crooked landscape painting doing its best. Heavy curtains drawn tight. A faint chemical floral scent masking something older beneath it.
She stopped a few steps inside, purse strap still looped around her fingers like she hadn’t fully committed to staying.
Jin moved past her but kept his distance, setting his coat over the back of a wobbly chair and smoothing it out of habit. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. A sitcom rerun filled the room with canned laughter, predictable and oddly comforting.
“Great mood-setter,” she said. Her voice pitched higher than usual. “Nothing sexier than a ’90s laugh track.”
“I hear they’re very romantic,” he said.
She exhaled, almost laughing. Her hands suddenly felt conspicuous. She shrugged out of her coat, wrestled with the sleeves longer than necessary, then folded it into something that resembled an attempt at neatness.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she said, too fast.
“Okay,” he replied immediately.
He sat on the edge of the bed, remote balanced on his thigh. She slipped into the bathroom and closed the door a little harder than she meant to. The latch clicked, sealing her inside with stale air and silence.
She gripped the sink and breathed out, slow and shaky. Her pulse thudded in her neck. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, flattening everything. No shadows. No softness. Just her reflection, blunt and unfiltered.
Not perfect. Not a disaster. Just a woman deciding whether she was brave or reckless, or both. Her hair was slightly mussed, lipstick uneven. A small blemish near her chin looked magnified under the harsh light. She studied herself like an answer might appear, then shook her head.
“Jesus,” she muttered.
She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over her face. The shock cut through the static. The motel towel scratched as she dried off, grounding her.
She smoothed her hair. One piece refused to behave, and she let it. Pressed her palms together, felt the tremor there.
“Okay,” she whispered to the mirror.
The word echoed too loudly in the tiny room.
“You’re an adult,” she added quietly. “A capable, attractive adult.”
Her reflection didn’t transform into confidence, but it softened, recognition replacing doubt.
“And there is a ridiculously good-looking man on the other side of that door waiting for you,” she added under her breath.
That steadied her more than any pep talk. Jin. Here. Real. Not a distant memory or a high-school ghost.
“Pull it together,” she murmured.
She inhaled, held it, let it go. Rolled her shoulders back. Shook out her hands like she was about to step onstage.
The sitcom filtered through the door, a punchline, laughter, the faint rustle of sheets as he shifted. She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat, fast but steady.
Before she could second-guess herself, she opened the door.
The sight of him stopped her. He was half-reclined against mismatched pillows, sleeves pushed to his elbows, forearms bare in the flickering TV light, blue, yellow, blue again. His expression wasn’t smug or expectant.
It was calm. Gentle.
“Hey,” he said. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
The thinness of the word betrayed her. She crossed to the other bed and sat, leaving a polite stretch of carpet between them.
“You sure?” he asked softly. His gaze moved over her face, careful, like he was reading something fragile.
She nodded. Whether it was true or something she hoped would become true didn’t matter.
He glanced at the TV, leaned forward, and clicked it off. The room settled into a deeper quiet, the heater humming, a car passing outside, nothing else.
“Why are you sitting all the way over there?” he asked. Not teasing. Not pushing.
She swallowed. “I didn’t know how to start.”
Understanding flickered across his face. He smiled.
“You’re nervous?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Me too,” he said.
It caught her off guard. She looked up fast. “Really?”
“Really.” He let out a quiet, almost self-conscious laugh.
He slid off the bed and crossed the short distance between them. He moved carefully, not tentative, but deliberate, like he was approaching something that deserved respect. When he sat beside her, he left space. Close enough for the mattress to dip, for warmth to shift, but not so close that it pressed.
The springs creaked. She stiffened out of habit, bracing for an expectation he didn’t place on her.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “We don’t have to do anything.”
He wasn’t posturing. He meant it. Whatever was written across her face, the nerves, the push and pull, he seemed to read it easily. He edged a little closer, still not touching, just letting the warmth between them exist.
“We can take our time,” he said. “There’s no rush.”
He studied her for a beat, then added, “I have an idea.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That sounds dangerous.”
He didn’t laugh, just smiled. Calm. Patient.
“Lie down on your stomach,” he said, “and close your eyes.”
Her brows lifted. “Why?”
“Trust me.”
After a moment of arguing with herself, she nodded. She lay down, cheek pressed to the stiff motel comforter, the pillow too thin to matter. She closed her eyes. The darkness made everything louder, her heartbeat, her breathing, her thoughts circling.
“Keep them closed,” he said, closer now.
Then his hands were on her.
They settled first on her shoulders, warm and steady. His thumbs pressed slow, careful circles into knots she’d been carrying longer than she realized. She startled at the initial touch, a quick jolt, but on the next breath she exhaled, long and shaky.
He moved without hurry, without turning it into something else. Just touch. Just grounding. He worked down her shoulders, eased along her back. Each deliberate pass loosened something she’d been holding tight since the bar. Her breathing evened out. Her jaw unclenched. The frantic edge of her thoughts dulled.
She melted into the mattress inch by inch, the way something clenched finally gives in.
His fingertips slipped just beneath the hem of her shirt, barely there. Her body snapped tense again.
He stopped immediately.
His hands stayed where they were, warm and still at the small of her back.
“Hey,” he murmured, low and steady. “It’s okay. Breathe. I’m not going to do anything you’re not ready for.”
There was no frustration in his voice. No persuasion. Just certainty. The reminder that she was in control.
Her breath stuttered, then eased. Slowly, her muscles released again. Her fingers loosened.
When his touch resumed, it was slower, more intentional, following the rise and fall of her breathing. Gentle, but aware now. Like he was listening with his hands.
“Don’t open your eyes yet,” he said softly.
A moment later, the mattress dipped beside her. His warmth pressed along her side, not touching, just close enough to register.
One hand stayed beneath her shirt, fingertips tracing careful lines along her waist. Then he guided her onto her side, turning her to face him. Her eyes almost opened on instinct.
“Not yet,” he whispered, close enough that she felt the words.
His hand rested at her waist, fingers moving in small arcs, up toward her ribs, down toward her hip. Slow. Steady. Each pass settled deeper under her skin. There was no urgency in it. Just presence.
Her breathing matched the rhythm of his touch. The tightness in her chest eased, not gone, but no longer sharp.
Eventually his hand stilled, palm warm against her side.
She inhaled and caught when he leaned in.
Forehead to hers. Soft. Tentative. His breath brushed her cheek. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel him watching her, not pushing, not asking outright. Waiting. Listening for anything that might say stop.
There wasn’t anything.
Not now.
The air between them felt dense with everything unspoken. His hand rested at her waist, unmoving but charged, his thumb brushing slowly over the fabric of her shirt.
“Are you sure?” Jin asked.
His voice was barely a whisper. Not smooth. Not confident. Careful. Cracked at the edges with something honest. Want, yes, but more than that. Something unguarded.
“Do you want this?”
She opened her eyes.
He was so close it made her stomach flip. Close enough to see the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the soft flush in his cheeks, the tension in his jaw as he held himself still. He looked like staying where he was took effort.
“Yes,” she said, her voice catching. “I want you.”
His expression shifted, almost imperceptibly, like something deep inside him let go. His lips parted like he might respond, but he didn’t. He leaned in and kissed her.
She met him there, opening for him, and when his tongue touched hers, something warm and immediate sparked inside her. He shifted, guiding her back until she felt the mattress beneath her. His body moved with hers, lining up in a way that felt familiar and new all at once. One of his hands slipped beneath her shirt, fingers trailing gently up her ribs. Skin to skin. The contact sent a shiver straight through her.
She arched into him with a soft gasp.
Her hands reached for him without thinking. His shoulders, his back, anything solid. She needed to hold something as the space between them narrowed. Their kiss deepened, growing rougher, more urgent. He made a sound low in his throat that vibrated against her lips.
“Do you know,” he said, his voice rough, “how good you look right now?”
He kissed the side of her neck, slow and lingering. She tilted her head, giving him more, and her fingers slipped under the back of his shirt. When her nails grazed his skin, he groaned softly, the sound echoing in her chest.
She hadn’t expected it to feel like this. For weeks she had folded her wanting into neat corners, made it small, told herself it didn’t matter. She’d hidden it behind quiet smiles and carefully chosen words. She told herself she didn’t miss the way he brushed her arm when he was amused or how he looked at her like he understood the things she never said.
She tried to outwait it. To outthink it. To let it pass.
But he was here, and so was she. The walls she had built around her self-control didn’t stand a chance.
There was something different in the way he hovered above her. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. It wasn’t hunger alone, not some careless dive into want. It was slower, deeper. Like he’d wanted her for so long the feeling had turned into something quiet and reverent.
She looked up at him, and something shifted in the air between them. His eyes met hers, and the way he looked at her sent warmth rolling through her body. Her skin stirred beneath it. Her breath hitched. Without giving herself time to second-guess, she said the only thing she could.
“Jin,” she whispered. “Please.”
That was all he needed.
He kissed her again, slower this time, but with more weight. She pulled him closer, hands clutching at his shirt. Her back met the mattress, and she didn’t fight it. She let herself sink into it. Let him come with her. His weight settled over her, not too much, just enough to make her feel wrapped in something real.
One of his arms braced beside her head while the other slid along her waist, fingers pressing into her skin like he was memorizing the shape of her. His mouth left hers and found her jaw, then her throat. She tilted her head, and when his lips found the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, a soft sound escaped her. Her body tightened, legs brushing against his.
He paused, breathing her in, then lifted his head just enough to see her face. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted, eyes heavy with want. His hand moved beneath her shirt again, his palm warm against her stomach as it glided upward, slow and steady. Her breath caught. Her back arched into him.
“You feel...” He tried to speak, but his voice cracked. “You feel incredible.”
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back down, kissing him with urgency. Her hands moved faster now, mapping his body, pulling him closer. She didn’t want to rush it, but waiting wasn’t something her body was interested in anymore.
Her legs shifted, opening just slightly, and he felt it. The invitation. The heat. He froze, just for a second, eyes meeting hers. He was still asking, still making sure.
She didn’t speak. She moved again. Her hips lifted, slow and deliberate, giving him the answer.
His breath left him in a quiet rush. One of his hands found the hem of her shirt. He looked at her again. She nodded.
“Take it off.”
His fingers moved right away. He lifted the shirt carefully, watching her as more skin was revealed. When it was gone and she lay beneath him, bare and waiting, something in his expression changed. It wasn’t just want. It was something quieter. Something that looked like awe.
The air between them held. Heavy. Alive. But neither of them moved too fast. They didn’t need to.
They kissed again. Slower now. Deeper. The kind of kiss that left her dizzy. His tongue slid against hers, and she clutched the back of his neck, pulling him in until their chests pressed together, heat blooming everywhere their skin touched.
Clothes disappeared in tangled movements. Her hands found his sides, then his hips, then his back again. Every part of her felt like it was waking up. He touched her like he was still learning her, still checking, still making sure she felt everything he meant.
She opened her legs when he guided her, breath hitching, body soft and responsive. Her nails dragged lightly down his back, just enough to make him groan, and this time it was louder. Rough. Unrestrained.
Jin’s mouth left hers slowly, like he didn’t want to stop. Like it took real effort to pull away. He didn’t go far. Just dipped his head to her jaw, then dragged his lips down her throat, moving with a kind of quiet hunger that made her toes curl. His mouth was warm, open, deliberate as it traced every inch of skin it could find, as if he needed to memorize her all over again. Y/N tilted her head, letting him in without thinking. Her body arched instinctively toward him, her breath catching at the heat of him pressed along her front, the familiar weight of his hips fitted tight between her thighs. His hand was under her shirt again, moving slow, fingers grazing skin in a way that made her stomach flutter.
His palm smoothed up the soft curve of her waist, fingers spreading across her ribs, then sliding higher to cup her breast in his hand. The contact was solid and full, the heat of his skin burning through hers, his thumb brushing over the peak with a careful pressure that made her gasp.
Her body went taut beneath him, her breath stuttering as sensation bloomed hard and fast. The slow drag of his thumb over her nipple pulled another sound from her throat, something helpless and real. He shifted his weight to one side, his other hand slipping under her lower back and pulling her flush into the hard ridge of his arousal. The pressure was impossible to ignore. He rocked into her once, just enough for her to feel the full shape of him pressed between her legs, and her hips tilted up instinctively to meet it.
Jin looked up at her, eyes dark and locked on her face. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, voice low and wrecked.
Her fingers curled into his shoulders, gripping tight. She arched into his hand, lips parted, another soft sound escaping her when his mouth found the top of her chest. He kissed her slowly, moving lower, letting his lips brush the swell of her breast through the thin fabric. She sucked in a breath, sharp and high, and her knees fell open wider beneath him, thighs twitching around his waist. Her fingers slipped into his hair, anchoring herself, holding him there as her breath turned shaky.
His mouth was warm and persistent, lips and tongue working in slow circles that sent sharp waves of pleasure through her. He dragged the fabric aside, and when his mouth finally closed over her bare skin, her hips jerked up with a startled moan. His tongue moved in slow, controlled sweeps, and the soft scrape of his teeth made her pulse throb low and deep. His hand squeezed gently, thumb still moving in slow, deliberate passes over her nipple, each one making her body pull tighter with want.
She turned her face into the pillow, overwhelmed by the sensation. Her chest rose fast, her stomach trembling with every breath. Her lips were kiss-swollen, her skin burning under his hands. She couldn’t stop touching him—her hands moved everywhere, up the hard lines of his back, over the firm muscles of his arms, around his neck. She needed to feel him, to keep him close, to hold onto something solid as her body unraveled under his mouth.
“Jin,” she whispered, voice breaking over his name like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
He lifted his head, eyes finding hers again. Whatever was left of his restraint had crumbled. His expression was wide open now—wanting, intense, full of heat. He leaned down and kissed her hard, catching her mouth in something rough and consuming. His hand didn’t stop moving on her chest, still cupping, still teasing, thumb circling slowly until her legs opened farther without her even realizing. The pressure between them grew unbearable.
Her body shook now, not from nerves but from how much she felt. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, her heels pressing into his lower back, trying to bring him closer. Her hands gripped his shoulders like he was the only thing keeping her tethered to the bed. Every breath was a gasp. Every sound from her mouth was met with another roll of his hips or a pass of his thumb.
The room felt charged. Thick with heat. The tension was a physical thing, settling over them like a blanket, heavy and inescapable. Her body ached everywhere he wasn’t touching. Her skin tingled in anticipation, her core throbbing with every second he made her wait. She didn’t remember when she’d started clutching the sheets, only that her hands were twisted in them now like she needed something to hold onto.
Jin hovered above her, breathing hard, his body braced on either side of hers like he was holding himself back by sheer will. His pupils were blown wide, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, and his chest rose and fell in fast, shallow bursts. He looked down at her like she was the only thing in the world that made sense. Like he was trying to remember her exactly like this—flushed, open, wrecked beneath him.
Jin’s hands slid down to her hips, fingers curling firm and possessive, like he needed to feel her bones under his palms. He pulled her into him, dragging her into the slow roll of his body, letting her feel his cock grind against her. Her breath hitched—sharp and immediate—as he pressed into her pussy.
The contact sent a jolt through her, and her hands flew to his back, grabbing hard. Her nails dragged lightly down his spine, not enough to hurt, just enough to make him shudder against her and groan into her neck—low and wrecked. The sound made her hips buck. Made her chase the friction without even realizing it.
Their mouths found each other in a rush, lips parted and hungry, kisses deep and messy. Tongues tangled, teeth scraped, breath caught between them. She kissed him like she needed to devour him, hands everywhere—sliding up his chest, over the flex of his shoulders, curling into his hair, pulling him in. Her thighs tightened around his waist, trying to pull him closer. Tighter. Her whole body arched into him, desperate for more, for the rhythm, the weight, the grind of his hips keeping pace with hers.
She wasn’t just wanting anymore. She was aching.
They moved together without words, without thought, their bodies chasing sensation. His sweat-slicked skin slid against hers, every roll of his hips dragging friction right where she needed it most. Her panties clung to her, soaked and useless. Every grind of his body sent sparks of pleasure racing up her spine, setting her stomach alight. She could feel him—hard and hot against her—just barely separated by too much fabric and not enough patience.
He groaned into her mouth, the sound ripped from somewhere deep. She felt the tremble in him, the way his control was fraying. The way he was holding himself back and losing the fight with every second.
He broke the kiss, just barely, resting his forehead against hers, their lips still brushing.
“You feel so fucking good,” he breathed, voice thick with restraint, his breath shaking against her cheek.
She couldn’t answer. Her body did it for her—hips rolling up to meet his, legs falling wider, her hands sliding down to guide him lower, pressing him exactly where she needed him. When his fingers slipped between them, she gasped, arching hard. Her legs parted farther, and he took the invitation, trailing his touch along the inside of her thigh, his fingers warm, sure, dragging slowly over sensitive skin.
He touched her like he was learning her from the inside out. Every slow stroke of his fingertips made her tremble. He hadn’t even really touched her yet, not fully, and already she was shaking, breathless. His fingers brushed higher, teasing, circling, staying just shy of where she was burning for him.
Her breath caught. Her thighs clenched.
“Jin…” she whimpered, already falling apart from the anticipation.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower. His lips skimmed her throat, his breath hot as it rushed over her skin.
“Shh,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Then his hand moved again—lower, closer—and when he finally touched her through the soaked fabric clinging to her, she gasped, the sound caught between surprise and relief. Her hips jerked, chasing more. The pressure of his touch was maddening. Too soft. Too slow. Too perfect.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice thick. “You’re soaked.”
He pressed his mouth to her shoulder, groaning as he rubbed slow, deliberate circles that made her legs shake. His other hand slid beneath her back, lifting her into him, holding her there as she writhed under the pressure. Her fingers clutched at him, pulling at his hair, dragging her nails over his skin as her body wound tighter.
His touch wasn’t rushed. It was confident. He worked her in slow, steady circles, drawing her closer with every pass. Her head tipped back, lips parted in silent gasps as her hips rolled to meet him, chasing that heat, that perfect friction, that promise of release.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice tight and breathless. “Please, Jin…”
He didn’t answer with words. Just kissed her again—deep and consuming—and let his fingers slip past the fabric, finally finding her bare. The moment he touched her properly, she broke apart.
A moan escaped her lips, high and broken, her whole body jolting. Her hips lifted into his hand, thighs trembling as he stroked her in tight, slow circles. Her body was molten beneath him, slick and desperate, her skin flushed and damp. She clung to him, arms tight around his shoulders, anchoring herself to something solid as her breath came in shuddering bursts.
He watched her, completely focused. Every flick of her hips, every quiet gasp, every time her brows pulled tight and her mouth dropped open. He kept his hand steady, fingers slipping through her with practiced ease, pushing her higher, deeper into the burn blooming between her hips.
“You’re perfect like this,” he murmured, breath warm against her neck. “So fucking perfect.”
She couldn’t answer. Her body was locked in place, thighs tight, stomach fluttering, chest heaving. Her voice was gone—replaced by soft, desperate whimpers that only grew louder when he adjusted his angle, pressing just right.
Her whole body jumped.
“That’s it,” he said, and he didn’t stop. “Right there.”
She came apart slowly at first, like the pressure was unraveling thread by thread, until suddenly it wasn’t slow anymore. It crashed over her. Her body arched, locked, then convulsed, every muscle drawn tight as the pleasure rushed through her like fire. A cry tore from her throat—his name, broken and breathless—her hands grabbing blindly for his arms, his back, anything.
He didn’t stop until she was gasping. Until she was shaking. Until she collapsed beneath him, her body spent and trembling, her skin flushed and glowing.
He kissed her gently—everywhere. Her shoulder. Her ribs. Her stomach. Down the inside of her thigh. And when she finally opened her eyes, dazed and wrecked and glowing, he was still there. Watching her like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to let go of this moment.
He leaned in, lips brushing hers.
“We’re not done.”
Then she felt it. His cock, hot and hard, pressing against her entrance.
Y/N looked up at him, hair stuck to her temples, her skin flushed and damp. Her lips were parted like she had something to say but forgot how to say it. Her eyes were wide, still trying to settle on Jin’s face, like she couldn’t focus long enough to catch her breath. For a second, she didn’t move. She just watched him, chest rising and falling beneath the thin motel light, the kind of light that didn’t flatter anything but didn’t lie either. Her fingers reached up slowly and curled behind his neck.
“Please.”
Jin hovered above her, arms tense, holding his weight. His gaze locked with hers for a beat, maybe two, like he was still deciding whether to ask again or just go. Then he spoke, quiet and hoarse.
“Ready?”
She didn’t answer. Her hand slid into his hair, pulling him down into a kiss that was open-mouthed and impatient. It wasn’t soft. It was rushed, messy, full of urgency. Their teeth knocked for half a second before their mouths found a rhythm. She kissed him like she’d already waited too long.
Her legs shifted under his, parting more, knees bending until her calves brushed his sides. Her hands dropped to his ribs, fingers pressing into the hard lines of him. The tension in her body said it all. She wasn’t uncertain. She was already there, already open.
Jin reached down, breaking the kiss just long enough to grab his wallet from where it had fallen beside the bed. Y/N watched, quiet, her chest still rising and falling, her fingers loosely twisted in the edge of the sheet. She didn’t speak while he opened the foil, didn’t move until he rolled the condom on and looked back at her. She pulled him in again, hand at the back of his neck.
He reached between them, lined himself up, and pushed in slowly. The breath caught in her throat. Her hands gripped him tighter. Every inch he gave her pulled a sound from her lips, soft but unfiltered. Her eyes fluttered closed. She shifted her hips once, adjusting, and exhaled hard when he bottomed out.
They stayed like that, still, pressed together with nothing separating them. Their skin stuck where it met, their chests barely lifting between breaths. Jin lowered his forehead to hers, his hand braced near her shoulder, and for a few seconds there was nothing but the hum of the air conditioner and the uneven pace of their lungs.
Y/N blinked at him, mouth still open, lips red from kissing. Her voice came out rough, right against his cheek.
“Don’t make me wait.”
He pulled back and drove into her again, this time with force. The sound of it landed hard in the quiet. She gasped, her nails dragging up his back. He did it again. Then again. Her legs tightened around him. The mattress gave a low creak beneath them.
Her breath turned sharp. She met him with every thrust, her hips moving with his, finding rhythm like they’d done this before, like they knew how to match each other without thinking.
She gripped his arms, her nails digging in just enough to leave a mark. Her head dropped back against the pillow as her body arched to take him deeper. Her mouth fell open. Jin watched her, every change in her expression pulling something deeper out of him.
His rhythm built without meaning to. Faster, deeper. The slap of skin, the soft hit of the headboard against the wall, the hiss of breath through teeth. Y/N’s voice cracked once, a sound like surprise, and her thighs pulled him in tighter.
He lowered himself more, chest brushing against hers, the heat between their bodies nearly unbearable. She smelled like sweat and perfume and something sharper he couldn’t place. Her fingers were in his hair again, pulling when he hit the right spot.
She said his name, or something close to it.
He grunted and picked up the pace, his hand gripping her hip to hold her steady. She moved with him, letting him take control without going still, matching the rhythm with the tilt of her pelvis, the way she pressed her heels into his lower back.
Her skin was flushed and sticky, her breath breaking in uneven gasps each time he moved. And still, she wanted more. Her legs stayed locked around his waist, tightening with every deep pull of his body against hers. The sounds she made would have embarrassed her if she could focus on anything but how good she felt. Her hands roamed without aim, fingers dragging down the curves of his back, up his arms, over the tight bunch of muscle in his shoulders. She needed contact. Needed to feel him in every possible place she could reach.
She reached for his jaw, held it for a second, then let her hand fall back again. Her head rolled to the side, and a small sound escaped her, half breath and half moan.
His rhythm started to falter. She felt it. Her legs tightened again, like she didn’t want to let go of it yet, didn’t want it to end too fast. He kissed her without meaning to, just pressed his mouth to hers in a way that was all teeth and breath and desperation.
The headboard hit the wall once more, louder this time. The sound of their bodies was everything now, thick and fast and close.
Jin didn’t let his focus drift. His jaw was clenched, sweat gathering at his temple, his eyes fixed somewhere between her face and the place their bodies met. He looked like he was holding himself back by sheer will alone—each motion slower than it could be, deeper than it needed to be, drawn out like he was punishing himself with how good it felt.
When Y/N shifted beneath him, raising her hips just a little more, a low sound broke from his throat. Almost a growl. His head dropped forward, forehead pressing to hers, and for a few seconds he just stayed like that—still inside her, breathing hard.
“God,” he murmured, voice barely there. “You feel so—”
She kissed him before he could finish speaking, slow and open-mouthed, her hands coming up to frame his face. There was no finesse left in either of them. Their mouths moved like their bodies—hungry, uncoordinated, desperate for contact over grace.
His thrusts returned slowly, unhurried again, like he wanted to start over. Every movement was felt, not just in her hips but in the way her eyes fluttered closed, the way her lips parted around a quiet gasp, the way her nails curled into the back of his neck. She was unraveling under him, but not fast. She was stretching the moment out just as much as he was.
Time didn’t feel real anymore. The room felt suspended—thick with heat and breath and skin. The faint hum of the motel’s ancient air conditioner buzzed somewhere in the background, but it might as well have been miles away. The only thing she could register was the sound of their bodies moving, the creak of the bed, the ragged cadence of his breath beside her ear.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice breaking.
“I won’t.” His hand slipped beneath her back, pulling her tighter, angling her hips just enough to draw a sharp gasp from her lips. “I’ve got you.”
Her body tensed as another wave built in her belly, different from the first—this one slower, deeper, more consuming. Her breath hitched with every grind of his hips, and she felt the tremble start again in her thighs, the warning sign of something coming for her that she wasn’t sure she could handle if he kept going like this.
His movements turned heavier again, hips rolling into hers with more purpose. Not faster. Just deeper. He shifted his weight onto one arm, the other dragging down the length of her side until his hand found her thigh. He held it there, grounding her, thumb brushing slowly over her skin as he moved through her like he wanted to crawl inside her and stay.
She cried out again and turned her face into the side of his neck. Her lips grazed his skin as she breathed through the mounting pressure inside her, trying to hold it back, but knowing it was too late.
Jin didn’t stop. He didn’t speak. He just pressed a kiss to her cheek and kept going.
Her muscles went tight, her fingers clutching at him. She was right there—on the edge, toes curling, back arching—and she couldn’t hold it anymore.
He felt it. He tightened his grip on her thigh and held her in place as she shattered beneath him again, her breath catching in her throat, a soft sound slipping from her lips as her body convulsed against his. The way she clenched around him pulled a groan straight from his chest, and his own control started to splinter.
He kissed her, soft this time, as her body pulsed beneath him. He let her ride the wave, let her tremble and whimper against his mouth, his hand smoothing up and down her side to keep her anchored.
Only when her muscles went slack again, when her body stopped twitching and her breath finally started to level out, did he let himself chase the edge he’d been holding back from for so long.
Y/N’s body had gone soft beneath him, trembling, pliant, flushed and glowing. Her breath came in stutters, lips parted as though she was still tasting the last wave of pleasure. Her fingers had slipped from his shoulders to the back of his neck, where they stayed, loose but steady, like she couldn’t bring herself to let go just yet.
Jin didn’t stop moving. Couldn’t.
The heat between them was unbearable now, like the air had thickened and settled on their skin. Every slide of his hips was deliberate, slower than before, but deeper, almost reverent. She was still so sensitive, still shivering with the aftershocks, but she held him tighter, letting him ride that edge he’d been hovering over for what felt like forever.
He was unraveling. It showed in the way his forehead pressed hard into the curve of her shoulder. In the way his breath hitched mid-gasp. In the way his hand found hers, their fingers weaving together as though anchoring himself to her was the only way to stay grounded.
Every muscle in him was tight and trembling. Each thrust hovered on the edge of collapse, his body caught in that narrow space between control and surrender. His rhythm faltered, stuttered, found itself again.
Y/N kissed the side of his face, her mouth brushing his jaw as he pressed forward one last time, a deep grind that pulled another gasp from her even through the haze of her own release. She whispered his name, not sharp or urgent, but soft, awed, undone.
That was it.
He broke with a sound torn from deep in his chest, breath collapsing into her neck like he’d been emptied of air. His body jolted, curved into hers, pulling them impossibly close. His hand clamped around her thigh, hard enough to bruise, and then there was nothing but stillness.
Jin didn’t speak. Couldn’t. His mouth opened once, as if words might come, but all that followed was a slow, shaking exhale against her collarbone.
Y/N held him, arms wrapped around his back, legs still locked at his hips, breathing rising and falling with his. The room felt suspended in the aftermath, air heavy with heat and skin and sweat and something sweeter, the ache of what had just passed between them.
He stayed inside her, their bodies fitted together, unmoving. There was no urgency to separate. No need. Everything had already been said, even in silence.
Eventually, he shifted just enough to look at her. His eyes were glassy, hair damp against his forehead, lips bruised from kissing. And still, he looked at her like she was the only thing in focus.
She traced the line of his jaw with her fingers and smiled, not wide or certain, just real.
They stayed tangled, breathing hard, too spent to speak. Sweat cooled on their skin. The room felt quieter than before, thick with heat and silence.
Jin eased out carefully and rolled onto his side, one arm flung over his eyes. Y/N turned onto her back, chest still heaving, mouth slack, vision unfocused.
Neither of them spoke. The sheets were twisted beneath them, the mattress warm. Somewhere down the hall, a door shut. A car passed outside. The air conditioner kicked on again.
She lay still, eyes closed, trying to gather herself back into one shape. To find the edges of her body again. Somewhere in the blur of breath and warmth and closeness, she’d loosened and unspooled until it felt like their outlines had overlapped. Not lost. Just blurred.
Jin stayed close, breathing steady now. One of his hands traced slow, absent circles over her stomach. Not asking. Not signaling. Just there, a grounding touch, as if he needed the contact to be sure the moment hadn’t evaporated, that she was real, that they both were.
His other hand rested beneath her neck, fingers curved lightly against her skin. Not a grip. Something gentler. Protective. She didn’t feel held so much as kept, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
“That was…” he murmured, voice rough and dazed. “Wow.”
His hand drifted upward, moving along the center of her torso with careful attention. He paused at her sternum, pressing lightly, as if feeling for her heartbeat, or something quieter beneath it.
When his fingers reached her chin, he guided her face toward his, the touch barely there. His thumb brushed her jaw, then slid into her hair, combing through it slowly. He moved like someone touching something precious they’d admired from afar.
“Mmm. Yeah,” she said, voice low and warm, still thick with breathlessness. “But… it’s kind of like Pringles, right? Once you pop”
His eyes flew open.
“Pringles?” he repeated, incredulous.
She groaned and covered half her face. “That was awful. Please forget I said that.”
His laugh burst out, bright, unrestrained, real. It rolled through him, warm and alive, and something in her chest tightened at how much she liked it.
“Pringles,” he said again, shaking his head.
“It’s not completely wrong,” she insisted, peeking at him through her fingers. “I might’ve been better off before, when I didn’t remember how this felt. Because now…”
Her voice trailed off. The rest, the wanting, the fear of wanting, settled between them like mist.
He didn’t push her to finish. Instead, he leaned closer until his shoulder brushed hers. His breath warmed her throat, sending a small, involuntary shiver through her.
“You want more?” he asked quietly.
His voice was lower now. Unsteady. Hopeful in a way that felt fragile.
She lowered her hand and met his eyes fully.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”
He moved toward her again, not with urgency, but with a slow, searching tenderness. His mouth traced the angle of her jaw, a brush of reverent touches, deliberate and unhurried. His lips paused over the soft pulse at her throat, as if listening. Learning her again from this new closeness.
When he reached her ear, he murmured, “Give me a minute. I’m not as good as I used to be.”
A smile spread across her mouth, warm and unguarded. She lifted a hand to his cheek, her thumb tracing the edge of his lips.
“Yes, you are,” she whispered. “You really are.”
The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full, of cooling skin and steady breaths, of hearts easing back into rhythm. It wrapped around them like an extra blanket, soft and golden and enough.
Time blurred in the small motel room. Four a.m. arrived quietly, marked only by the heater’s tired wheeze and the way the lamp’s dim glow seemed to sink deeper into the walls. Outside, the parking lot lay still beneath a faint crust of frost, the world reduced to darkness and a few scattered lights.
She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to disturb the fragile space they’d made. Jin’s arm rested around her waist, loose and warm, his fingertips drifting lazily along her hip as if committing her to memory by touch alone.
She wanted to stay like this, not just now, but beyond now. Wanted morning with him: pale light slipping through cheap curtains, no rush to untangle limbs, the ease of kissing him simply because the day had begun.
But wanting was dangerous. Wanting could grow roots. She’d promised herself, just tonight. Nothing more.
And yet Jin didn’t seem ready to let go either. Each time she shifted, thinking she should sit up, find her clothes, return to something sensible, he drew her back gently. Another kiss. Another soft brush of his mouth at her temple, her shoulder, that vulnerable place behind her ear that unraveled her defenses with alarming ease.
At one point, his lips warmed her temple. His voice followed, nearly lost to the quiet.
“We still have plenty of condoms,” he murmured.
She laughed, surprised and breathless. “We can save them for next time,” she said, without thinking.
The moment the words left her, she froze. Heat flared across her face, regret sharp and immediate. She’d crossed her own line. Said too much. Revealed too much.
She waited for the pullback. The polite laugh. The retreat.
Instead, he smiled, slow, steady, sure.
“That sounds like a plan,” he said. “So… I can call you?”
She really looked at him then. Hair rumpled against the pillow. Eyes soft, open. No calculation in the question. No pressure. Just sincerity.
“I’d like that,” she whispered.
And that was how it became both the best and the worst Christmas vacation she’d ever had.
Best, because of him.
Worst, because of him.
Because even as she lay there, wrapped in the steady warmth of his arms, breathing the same quiet air, she already knew the truth she’d been avoiding.
One night was never just a night. It was a beginning. A seed.
And seeds were dangerous things. They grew quietly at first, almost politely, until suddenly they weren’t small at all. They climbed. They reached. They threaded themselves into places you hadn’t meant to tend.
Wanting him felt like that. Like the first green curl breaking through soil, delicate and inevitable.
She could already feel it starting.
Like ivy.
Snow fell over Norwalk. The next two days slipped into Christmas Eve and Christmas Day before she quite realized it, carried along by the rhythm of the holiday: warmth, ritual, repetition.
Her hours filled the way Christmas hours always did. Relatives arrived with cold still clinging to their coats; friends drifted in bearing tins of cookies and stories polished on the drive over. The house smelled of pine and cinnamon and roasting meat. Laughter spilled from room to room. Someone was always offering food, passing plates like small offerings, mashed potatoes piled in soft hills, pies with glossy crusts, coffee mugs warming hands still stiff from shoveling.
She laughed when expected. Listened when she should. Played card games. Endured retellings of childhood mischief she could recite better than the people telling them. She let herself be folded into the glow of family.
And she didn’t see Jin. Not once. Not even a passing glimpse, the back of a coat disappearing into a shop, a familiar stride crossing a parking lot. She was surprised by how much she’d anticipated those small-town coincidences. More surprised by how sharply she felt their absence.
The days expanded with noise and contracted with quiet, and beneath all the warmth, tucked into a private corner of her chest, was the memory of him. Not a memory exactly. More like a lingering temperature, the warmth left behind long after the hands that made it were gone.
On Christmas afternoon, when the house finally drifted into stillness, relatives dozing in recliners, conversations softening into the clink of dishes, the sky outside dulled by falling snow, her phone buzzed.
His name lit up the screen.
“Hey,” he said when she answered. His voice was warm and familiar, threaded with a softness that pulled her straight back to the motel bed, to the way he’d said her name in the dark. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”
“It’s okay,” she said, leaning back against her headboard. “I figured things were busy. Jimin keeps sending updates on the ongoing war between the Kim and Park households. I think his mom’s winning.”
Jin laughed, low and rich, crackling faintly through the phone. “Still. I told you I’d call.”
“And you did,” she said. “So you’re forgiven.”
She could picture him easily, stretched across his childhood bed, maybe still wearing the sweater his mother insisted made him look handsome, sheets rumpled beneath him, the same posters on the walls he’d pretended not to care about in high school. She heard the faint rustle as he shifted.
“When do you leave?” he asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Shit.” The word came out on a breath, soft with disappointment. “No chance you can stay?”
“I have work Wednesday.” She exhaled slowly. “I wish I could, though. My apartment’s going to feel quiet with Jimin staying here all week.”
A pause. “You fly out Wednesday?”
“Yeah. Red-eye.”
Silence settled between them, not heavy, not strained. Just the quiet acknowledgment of distance already tugging at the edges of whatever they’d started. A reminder that Norwalk was a place people passed through. A place where orbits didn’t always align.
“Any regrets, Y/N?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
“No,” she said, surprised by the certainty in it. “You?”
“Not one.”
He breathed out, a soft sound that seemed to brush the skin just below her ear, even through the phone.
“I hate that I didn’t get to say goodbye in person.”
“I know,” she said gently. “But… we did say ‘just this once,’ didn’t we?”
“Technically,” he murmured, a smile audible in his voice, “it was already more than once.”
She laughed under her breath. “Looking for loopholes?”
“Always.”
Her smile came easily, warm and unguarded. Whether he was joking or reaching for her in the only way he felt allowed, she couldn’t tell. But it felt good. It felt simple.
And it wasn’t awkward. Not at all. She’d imagined so many other versions of this, strained, distant, regret-heavy. The kind of quiet mornings that shrank nights into something smaller. But Jin wasn’t pulling away. He wasn’t softening what had happened or pretending it meant less.
He was just… him.
“Well,” she said softly, “it really was good to see you.”
“Are you cutting me off already?” he teased gently. She could hear his smile as clearly as if he were beside her.
“Not at all,” she said. “I just…” Her fingers worried a loose thread on her blanket. “I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. That’s all.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, I know.”
Silence settled between them again, thin as frost, fragile as breath in cold air.
“I should go,” she murmured. “The pies are almost done.”
“Okay.” A soft inhale. “It was amazing, Y/N.”
Her heartbeat snagged at the base of her throat. “Thank you, Jin.”
She ended the call first.
Not because she wanted to. Not because it felt finished. But because waiting, hoping he might say something else, felt too dangerous. Like standing at the edge of a drop and feeling the smallest, most reckless part of herself lean forward.
She’d learned that endings were easier when you made them sharp. Quick. Like tearing paper or shutting a window before the cold crept in. So she pressed the button. The line went dead.
In the quiet that followed, her heart fluttered in the space where his voice had been, suspended there, fragile, crackling faintly with leftover static.
The rest of Christmas Day unfolded the way dreams faded once you started to wake, still present, but slipping whenever she tried to hold onto it. Rooms blurred together. Conversations washed over her in warm, indistinct waves. She moved through her parents’ house slightly out of step, smiling when someone caught her eye, laughing when the moment called for it, accepting wrapped gifts with polite murmurs and numb fingers.
It all felt one layer removed. Like she was watching herself from just outside her body.
The potato salad tasted like nothing. Her father’s holiday ham, usually his proud masterpiece, sticky with glaze and ceremony, barely registered. Even the cookies, crinkled and dusted with powdered sugar, felt strangely thin on her tongue.
And beneath every moment, threading through the hours with quiet persistence, was the echo of Jin’s voice. The way he said her name. The pauses he left before certain words. The warmth that carried even through a phone line, as if he could still cup her face from a distance.
Her thoughts kept circling back, to the dim motel room, the low glow of the lamp, the steady heat of his hand at her waist, the charged softness in his gaze. The memory followed her like a shadow that ignored logic, staying close even under bright lights. It wasn’t sharp or intrusive. It simply lingered, settled somewhere in her chest, unwilling to leave.
By the time she went to bed, she felt suspended between two worlds.
One was here, full of Christmas lights, familiar rituals, the comfort of belonging. The other smelled faintly of motel soap and winter air, a place where time had stretched just enough for something unexpected to take root.
And she wasn’t entirely sure which one she was meant to wake up in.
Morning arrived quietly, as if the world were reluctant to disturb what remained of Christmas. She stepped outside into a dawn washed in gray, not sad exactly, but undecided. A sky caught between intentions. Pearl-colored clouds stretched thin, like eyelids half-lowered in thought. Snow hovered somewhere above, either gathering courage or reconsidering entirely.
Everything felt paused.
Her breath fogged and vanished in the cold, but traces of warmth still lingered, yesterday’s laughter, the scent of pine, the echo of wrapping paper scattered across her parents’ living room. The holiday had slipped into memory overnight, leaving behind only this hush, reverent and spare.
Her boots crunched over old snow as she carried her duffel down the steps. The snow was no longer soft, but hardened into pale crusts, bright once, now stiff and done. Each trip to the trunk pulled her gaze toward the end of the street, toward the same empty stretch of road.
She kept looking. Once. Twice. More times than she would ever admit.
Half out of habit. Half out of a hope she kept trying to silence.
Logic had already delivered its lecture, firm and unmoved, reminding her that he wouldn’t come. That he wasn’t the type to show up unannounced in the cold, hair damp, apology in his breath.
But hope, reckless, light-footed, immune to reason, kept whispering: Look again. Just once more. What if?
Hope was dangerous. It didn’t age. It didn’t learn. It kept believing long after the world had stopped offering proof.
So she looked. When she zipped her bag. When she shut the trunk. When her hand hovered over the driver’s-side door.
One last time.
The street offered nothing but stillness, quiet and winter-worn, lined with houses she’d known her whole life. A faint wind sighed through bare maple branches, pushing a few stubborn leaves across the pavement. Christmas lights sagged on porches, dulled by daylight, as tired as everything else.
Norwalk’s silence was particular, gentle, old-fashioned, like a quilt pulled up to the chin. It wasn’t empty. It was resting.
But Jin’s absence rang louder than sound. It pressed into the space around her, shaped like a truth she didn’t want but already understood.
She’d known it the moment she woke, the pale light on her bedroom wall, the echo of his voice still warm in her mind. Some moments were meant to stay suspended in memory, delicate as snowflakes, fleeting as firelight, too easily broken by daylight.
Dragging them forward could ruin them. Dragging them forward could ruin her.
Knowing that didn’t soften the ache.
She slid into the driver’s seat. The car smelled faintly of pine from an old air freshener swaying from the mirror. Her breath clouded the cold cabin as she turned the key, the engine coughing awake like something bracing itself for another winter.
She stayed there a moment, hands on the wheel, forehead resting briefly against chilled leather, letting the ache settle into something manageable, tucking it beneath her sternum where it couldn’t trip her.
She buckled in. The sky remained undecided.
And she drove.
The road to New Haven stretched ahead like a long ribbon of winter, gray, metallic, slow. Brake lights glowed along I-95, drawn into thin red lines by distance and motion, flickering like embers carried on a wind too tired to ignite them. Every car around her held its own small world: families with trunks stuffed full of crumpled paper and forgotten gifts; couples sharing coffee from matching mugs; students slumped against windows, returning to apartments briefly abandoned for home.
All of them crept forward toward the same thing, normal life resuming, the holidays dissolving into memory.
She turned on the radio, needing something to fill the quiet in her head.
A soft guitar began to strum. A voice threaded with longing spilled through the speakers, singing about missed chances and words spoken too late. It was too on the nose, too sharp, like the song itself was leaning over to say, Yes. Think about him.
“Nope,” she muttered, stabbing the button until the music cut out.
Silence rushed back in, cleaner, less accusatory.
The engine’s hum steadied her. Tires whispered against asphalt. Wind threaded through small gaps in the windows, humming its thin winter tune as the road carried her forward.
She tried, earnestly and stubbornly, not to think about Jin. Tried not to replay the night where time seemed to bend in a motel room lit by one stubborn bulb. Tried not to remember the warmth of his hand guiding her, the gentleness threaded through his voice, the way he looked at her like she was a question he wanted to keep answering.
She tried not to linger on the phone call, the catch in his breath, the way the word amazing had softened in his mouth, weighted with something he hadn’t said aloud.
She tried not to imagine another version of the holiday: one more day, a different choice, their paths nudged just close enough not to drift apart again.
But thoughts had never listened well. They were stubborn things. And hers climbed into the passenger seat with no intention of leaving.
By the time she reached New Haven, dusk had settled into the corners of buildings, stretching shadows across cracked sidewalks. Her apartment door groaned as she pushed it open, as if surprised to see her back so soon.
Silence met her with a chill, like a draft slipping under the door.
The warmth Jimin and Nina usually filled the place with was gone, the music bleeding from a distant room, the clatter of dishes from someone attempting a new recipe, the half-serious argument over whose turn it was to buy milk. Gone were the voices, the laughter, the low, constant hum of life.
The apartment felt hollow. A stage after the actors had gone home. A space where the heartbeat had paused.
Normally, she loved this. She treasured quiet, the pleasure of a still kitchen at midnight, the echo of her own footsteps, the clean clarity of a room without noise. But tonight, quiet was dangerous. Quiet reflected too much. Quiet was shaped exactly like him.
Her thoughts rose around her, slow and insistent, carrying all the things she’d tried to leave behind: the warmth of his hand at her waist, the weight of his question, the sincerity in his voice when he said he’d call, and the simple, disarming fact that he had.
The night they’d shared lived in her memory like a jewel wrapped in cloth, soft, bright, impossible to forget. Something borrowed from time itself. Tender. Unreal.
She set her keys on the counter, the sound sharp in the empty room, and decided to let it go. She had work in the morning, and Jin had no place in her life.
🙂🙂🙂this is me smiling to keep myself from SCREAMING INTO THE FUCKING NIGHT. It was INCREDIBLE. the feelings, the longing, the incredible character of seokjin! And the ending was so real raw and awfully familiar🫠
Thinking about riding hobi while there are people downstairs .⋆♱
Warning: he calls you a slut oop. Hes a bit rough . Voyeurism?/she wanna get caught 🫠 . Lots of dirty talks kinda.
Mdni 18+
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“You’re seriously insane,” Hobi whispered, voice strained as he grabbed your hips to stop you from moving again. “Fuck.. your friends are literally downstairs”
And yet he still couldn’t stop looking at you.
You sat on his lap on your bed, riding his dick like you had no shame at all, oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder while you smiled at him all sweet, like you weren’t slowly driving him crazy with the way you roll your hips on him. Every tiny movement made his jaw tighten harder.
His dick throbbing despite the pleading look he gives you.
“ you need to lower your voice baby.. there’s literally people just down the hall” , and you know that. That what makes your pussy clinch, knowing that anyone could hear the wet skin slapping on skin if they just walk past your door, it thrills you so much that you gush a bit of wetness down his dick he gasps.
“ fuck baby, your pussy is soaking my dick so much. Are you that fucking horny for me? You couldn’t wait until your friends leave… fuck .. baby please be quiet,”
He was nervous — you could feel it in the way his hands kept flexing against your waist, his head struggling to keep up while looking at your tits bounce up and down under the shirt, while he kept glancing toward the bedroom door — but that only made him harder. Looking at you with pleading eyes trying to get you to look at him and maybe listen to him and keep quiet.
“ I can’t stop hoseok ..your dick feels so fucking good. I can’t wait ..i can’t..”
Your hips started picking up pace along with the soft sounds slipping from your mouth.
“Jesus” he muttered, his patience slipping away.
“Keep those pretty sounds down,” he warned, voice strained and low before he finally snapped.
One quick movement and he had you flipped onto your stomach against the mattress, hand on your mouth keeping your shocked gasps down.
“You wanna act needy so bad?” he said breathlessly, sliding his throbbing dick back inside of your tight hole, holding you down harder now.
“Then fucking take it.”
his grip tightened as his thrusts turned rough and desperate, holding you down while you trembled beneath him.
“ fucking slut, shit.. you can’t keep your needy moans down, can you? You wanna get caught this badly?,” he growl so roughly, his hand slipping from your mouth.
the bed kept shaking under the force of his movements, pressing you into the mattress while you clung helplessly to the sheets.
At this point, hobi is so fucking desperate, he doesn’t care if anybody hears. Your pussy so tight and wet on him his eyes roll back while he let out a desperate moan.
“ fffuckkkkk baby… this pussy is fucking divine, makes me wanna take you outside and fuck you in front of everyone… s-shit..that got you excited didn’t it?,” feeling you clinch harder around him after that made him shiver.
he leaned down your ear, one hand holding you down by the waist, the other pulling your hair back, not caring if you let out more noises.
“ you want that, baby? wanna show everybody how slutty you are for me?”
You bucked back instinctively against his cock, moaning so loud, unable to stay still, chasing more of him without thinking, barely coherent now, repeating broken ‘yes’ after ‘yes’ under your breath, eyes fluttering shut as you lost yourself completely against him as you feel his dick perfectly hitting your sweet spot.
“ Holy s-shit im gonna fuckin cum,” you said almost screaming.
“ you wanna cum baby? fucking do it. Come on my dick you fuckin slut.”
his breathing got rougher, focus slipping as everything started to feel too intense to slow down. the little grunts he letting out right by your ear pushed you over the edge as you melt around him.
“ fuck.. you’re so tight .. I can’t hold much longer,”
realizing how desperate you’d made him completely overwhelmed you, and you lost control right there in his arms. Coming so hard he lets out a little whimper, shortly following after as you feel him fill you up with his hot cum. Rolling his hips slowly while breathing so heavily.
for a few seconds, neither of you could even move properly, stuck in that heavy silence where everything still felt too intense to process.
His arms now wrapped loosely but firmly, slow kisses lingering at your nape like he’s grounding himself in you.
the tension is gone now, just warmth and quiet between you.
“you drive me crazy, baby,” he murmurs low, voice softer than before.
You let out a small breathy laugh, turning just enough to catch his his lips in a slow kiss
“i will definitely do that again”
he goes quiet for a moment, then exhales, giving up already not trying to argue with you.
his hold tightens just a little, pulling you closer into him
“just… don’t make me lose it like that every time,” he mutters, thinking there is absolutely no way he can face your friends after how loud you both were ㅤ♡
Genre: established relationship (married) AU, smut, fluff, slice of life
Rating: 18+/NSFW, minors DNI
Word count: 9.5k (this was supposed to be short, believe it or not)
Summary: A diamond has many facets, especially the diamonds on the gorgeous pieces of jewelry that your husband Seokjin is paid to promote. You quickly learn that there are a lot more benefits to having a husband paid to model jewelry than meets the eye.
Or, a series of pwp blurbs about a reader who’s just really thirsty for the sight of her husband in high-end jewelry, with a hint of domesticity.
Warnings: Swearing. Zero plot, just smut; oral (m/f receiving); fingering; dirty talk; unprotected sex; creampie; spitting; cum eating; spanking/impact play; mentions of choking; sensory deprivation (blindfolding); use of sex toys; hints of size kink; overstimulation; praise kink; body worship; deep throating; cockwarming; use of degrading names. Reader’s a little bratty and possessive. Kind of canon compliant but only because of the jewelry sponsorship; no mention of why someone might even be sponsored by a fine jewelry brand, so you can use your imagination 😇
Notes: As promised, here it is! Basically if this one gif was a fic. Jin's Marie Claire shoot was the primary inspiration behind this, and every time he’d debut a new piece of jewelry during concerts or something I would sigh and open up my laptop to start writing. This fic in one line: we keep the gold chains ON during sex.
Credits: Dividers from strangergraphics. Do not reupload/repost this fic -- this is my original work.
It’s not hard being married to a man who models for a high-end jewelry brand, you think. Not at all.
Sure, the material perks of the partnership between your husband and the jewelry brand that flowed over to you were nice; you can’t say Seokjin coming home on random days with necklace, earring and bracelet sets whose retail prices almost equalled an entire month’s worth of your salary was anything worth complaining about. And you definitely hadn’t minded Seokjin fawning over the way the brilliant jewelry complemented your skin tone, how it adorned your body like it was meant to be there.
Despite this, your appreciation for your husband’s jewelry sponsorship is almost totally selfless. Actually, sometimes, you wish Seokjin would just keep all of the pieces he’d been gifted for himself. It’s not because you don’t like them, far from it; but because he simply makes them look so good, does them justice in a way you don’t think anyone else could. The dainty jewelry pieces Seokjin models make him look even more like the picture of elegance that drew you to him initially, all those years ago, and you often catch yourself admiring the way the necklace he’s most fond of sits gently on his collarbone, falling right above the moles you love to trace early on lazy Sunday mornings. You can never tear your eyes away when he goes bolder either, opting for thick, crystal-encrusted chokers that make his swanlike neck stick out all the much more.
But you’re admittedly a fickle thing, and you think the best part about the too-expensive jewelry that he’s been wearing is the versatile, rather multifaceted nature of it, how it veers beyond simply being aesthetically beautiful to actually being carnally pleasing.
You’re quite biased, but you think the way the brand’s necklaces look dangling above you is, by far, their best look. You think maybe the brand should advertise its necklaces from the perspective of how they’d look hanging above someone (not Seokjin, though, because God knows you wanted him to yourself too much to share that particular view with anyone else). The view of the stupidly expensive chain currently swinging in front of your face is erotic enough to launch a thousand ships, sell a million necklaces.
A bead of sweat drips down your husband’s temple, and if you had been any more present, you would have reached up and caught it before it splattered on your face. As it is, though, you’re so lost in your own pleasure that you can’t even remember your own name, much less how to do much of anything with your limbs.
Being wound up all night more times than you cared to count and only being allowed to come once while being halfway to your second orgasm does tend to have that effect.
The thrusts of his thick, pulsing cock inside you are synced perfectly to the rhythm at which the pendant of the thin chain he’s grown accustomed to wearing is swinging in your face, almost with a pendulum-like regularity. As he withdraws fully, the diamond-encrusted pendant moves further away from you, and when he slams back in, forcing his cock head to meet your G-spot in a way that makes your spine arch, the necklace’s bejewelled pendant gets so close to you that you could probably suck it into your own mouth if you just tilted your chin upwards the slightest bit. If you could think of anything other than the way Seokjin is pounding into you fervently, you’d probably be hypnotized by the way his changes of pace now make the heavy pendant around his neck sway and twist every which way: in, out, front, back.
He takes his next thrust as an opportunity to take the soles of your feet and push your thighs up into your chest, letting him slide in all the more deeper inside of you. “Taking me so good,” he gets out under his breath as you belatedly react to the change in position.
"Fuck, so fucking deep," you gasp. The stretch of your legs, along with the stretch of your walls in this new position, is so deliciously overwhelming that it sends your hands up to tangle in the thick, black hair at the back of his neck.
As he slams back in and adjusts your legs so they’re more firmly tucked into your chest, one of your hands absentmindedly forms a fist around his necklace. With the press of his length against your G-spot, you keen upwards, inadvertently taking his chain with you as you do so. You’re met with a sharp hiss from your husband as the white gold is pulled taut in your hand and the chain goes thin and flat across the front of his neck. You watch briefly, eyes flitting over the skin underneath the chain as it gets a little red in response. He’s always been so responsive, so reactive to your every touch, and his neck is perhaps the best illustration of that.
“Do it again,” mumbles Jin, and you dutifully follow, giving the chain another experimental pull upwards. With each subsequent yank, his cock pulses inside of you, though you can’t tell if it’s because you’re making his necklace dig deliciously into his vascular neck, or if it’s because his thrusts are getting so erratic that your pussy has no choice but to clench around him in response.
“Squeezing me so goddamn hard, my perfect girl, shit,” he groans, and the waver in his voice gives away how affected he is. Sure enough, with the next swing of his pendant in your face, his balls press against your ass as he buries himself deep inside of you, and suddenly the delicious weight of him is falling forward as he comes with a low grunt. His softening cock slips out of you along with the release he’d pumped deep inside of you. You whimper more than a little pathetically at the loss of him, still waiting desperately for the onset of your own orgasm.
“I know, I know,” your husband soothes, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek. “I've got you.” You nod eagerly, eager to get to the same relief he’d just experienced himself.
Seokjin slides himself down your body, gently settling your legs back down, but instead of finishing you off with his hands like you’d expected, it’s his soft mouth that greets your core, kissing around your lower lips. He’d already eaten you out to one orgasm, and it looked like he wanted to bring you to a second one on his mouth. You’re not complaining; he’s as skilled with his mouth as he is with any other part of him.
“So pretty for me here too,” he marvels, pulling away briefly to stroke your sex with the light touch of his fingertips. “Can tell your pussy got fucked so good, got all puffy and swollen for me.” His voice is light but his gaze on you is all too heated to be a joke. You heat up under his words and attention focused on the most intimate part of you.
“Need more,” you whine. He doesn’t respond, but seems to heed your order, because he leans back in, wasting no time as he traces your lips with his tongue before focusing his attention to your clit and laps right at the sensitive nub until you’re keening into his mouth. His tongue darts between your folds in earnest now, dipping shallowly into your entrance before he flattens the appendage and licks all the way up to your clit. “Ah, keep going,” you hiss. You don’t even realize you’re speaking and not thinking until you hear the words leave your mouth.
You don’t register the upward motion of your hips until the raw strength of Jin’s palm firmly pushes one of your hipbones down onto the bed, blocking you from further movement. You can’t help it; the way he uses his lips, the way he knows just how to draw a reaction out of you using nothing more than his tongue to create expert swipes through your folds and thrusts into your core is delicious, and your body acts on its own accord to chase more of that feeling. You’re practically vibrating with need now, and you know he can tell, because you hear a low chuckle from below you.
Seokjin pulls away from you, mouth glistening in the room’s dim light. “Try and be patient,” he chides, before resuming his ministrations. “Think you can manage that for me, angel?” He asks sweetly, and you can only let out a mewl. When his tongue returns to you this time, it’s accompanied by two fingers meeting your clit. He rubs the bundle of nerves raw in perfect symphony with his tongue fucking you open, and you cry out.
Your breath catches in your throat as the movements of his tongue grow more desperate, frenzied, at your sex. “Close,” you squeak. It’s becoming too much to bear, pressure building in your lower half with every passing moment.
Still hard at work eating you out, he hooks the index and middle fingers of his free hand into your mouth, pulling your jaw down by your lower teeth to part your lips. You quickly catch his drift, opening your mouth wider for him. The next swirl of fingers at your clit, accompanied by a scooping thrust of his tongue inside of you, is all it takes for the knot in your lower stomach to burst open, filling you with searing heat. You sag into the pillows below you with a loud sigh, the relief from finally reaching your orgasm palpable.
When Jin gets back up to kneel beside you, you belatedly realize he’d been using his tongue to collect the cum he’d left in you earlier, which he spits out into your mouth. “Swallow for me?” He asks, eyes hungrily fixed on yours. Of course, you acquiesce, wasting no time in doing so. The taste of your mutual releases is heady, sharp on your tongue; you can taste his distinct saltiness along with something you recognized as being uniquely your own essence, something he would swear up and down was sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted.
“Good girl,” he coos, bringing his lips to your own so you can kiss the rest of your releases off of him. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
(The next morning, you’re mindlessly buttering a slice of bread in the kitchen and trying not to think too hard about the dull ache between your legs when your husband comes up behind you, pressing a kiss to your cheek and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder.
“Morning, beautiful,” he mumbles, voice still a little scratchy from disuse. “That for me?”
“No,” you grumble, but shove the now-buttered toast in his direction anyway. He snickers, taking a big bite of your offering.
“You tried choking me last night,” Seokjin says accusingly, mid-chew.
You snort and turn around to face him. Thinking back on your previous night’s activities brought up plenty of delicious memories, but you couldn’t say that choking him had been one of them. “Definitely didn’t try choking you. I think I’d remember that.”
“Yanking on my necklace like you wanted to rip it off me doesn’t ring a bell?” He raises an eyebrow.
Oh. That, you did remember. Though you hadn’t known it had left such an impact on him, nor that it had actually managed to choke him. “Must have done it without realizing,” you pause, lost in thought, and steal what’s left of your toast back from your husband. “Sorry?” You follow your apology up by shoving the sliver of toast he’d so graciously left for you in your own mouth, a little embarrassed.
“No apologies needed. When you pulled that chain around me, kind of felt like I was gonna choke, honey. I liked how it felt,” he says casually.
“Is that right?” The pitch of your voice rises upwards as you smirk. “Interesting information.”
And if you tug at his chain experimentally when he pulls you into a kiss, he has only himself to blame for telling you what he likes.)
You were also thankful to the brand for teaching you that jewelry could have an auditory dimension. You couldn’t say that you’d been aware of the sonic qualities of jewelry before, but apparently, diamond makes lovely sounds when crunched under one’s teeth. Perhaps it’s a quality unique to Seokjin and the literal treasure troves of jewelry he’s been sent home with.
You’d been slumping against the headboard one day, fresh off of an impromptu session with your vibrator, when your husband had gotten home from work. When Seokjin loosened the tie he’d been wearing that day with one hand and said “I have an idea” with a devilish glint in his eyes and his hand still clutching the royal blue tie he’d just undone, you’d nodded vigorously, offering your wrists up towards him.
He’d only chuckled. “Maybe later. Not quite what I had in mind. But good idea, though.”
Boy, you’d had no idea what you were in for.
Seokjin had leaned in and the scrap of silk had slipped over your eyes, a little warm from where it had been crumpled up in his hand, before his fingers had deftly knotted the tie into a neat bow at the back of your head.
“How many fingers am I holding up, ________?” He had joked.
“Eight,” you’d deadpanned. “I don’t know, I can’t see for shit.” That had earned you a smack to the fat of your ass.
“Brat,” he’d muttered, pushing you down onto the bed with the push of his fingers. “On your knees.” You'd complied eagerly before gasping in surprise as he’d pulled you up so that you were in a tall kneel.
Not being able to see had heightened the rest of your senses, forcing you to rely solely on feel and sound to get your bearings. Not that you really needed any bearings at the moment, though; you’re still securely on your bed, but your legs have been spread a little wider to accommodate the intrusion of your husband’s cock from behind you. From his position behind you, Seokjin holds your wrists behind your back in one large hand, pulling your upper back into his chest as his other hand alternates between your breasts, going from roughly palming each one to tweaking your nipples, all as he’s splitting you open.
Ironically, your lack of sight has only added to your pleasure; to say you’re overstimulated would be the understatement of the century.
From this position, Jin seems even bigger; not just the sheer size of his broad frame dwarfing yours from behind you, but the length of his cock, barely conquerable even after the thorough preparation you and your vibrator had gone through earlier, feels impossibly larger inside of you somehow in your kneeling position. You’re stretched wide around him, with no choice but to accept the languid movement of his cock inside of you. The slow rolls of his hips deliver agonizingly precise strokes that need little power to have you mewling, letting him expertly tap onto the spongy patch inside of you that creates stars behind your eyes. The angle at which he’s spearing into you lets him easily get to spots inside you that are the hardest to reach.
“God, so f-full,” you sigh contentedly. He only presses a kiss to the side of your neck in response, movements not slowing down a bit. From where your back is glued to his chest, you feel his torso turn away as if he’s in search of something, though you can’t figure out what he’s reaching out for.
When you hear a click and the telltale hum of the vibrator you thought you’d done a good job of hiding beneath an artful crumple of the blankets when you’d heard his keys turn in the lock, your cheeks heat up.
“Having fun before I got here, weren’t we,” your husband says dryly. “Kind of want to see what I missed out on. Want to show me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, and suddenly, the vibrator’s buzz mixes with your surprised cry as he presses it right onto your clit. The feeling of his cock familiarizing itself with your G-spot from inside of you is enough on its own, but it's almost too much to bear when it’s coupled with the unforgiving, incessant motion of the toy against your sensitive bud. You know he doesn’t mind your instinctive clenches around his cock in response, not if the sudden sharp intakes of breath coming from behind you are any indication.
“Please,” you can only whisper in response to him pressing the plastic toy against the raw nerve endings of your clit in tandem with the now-frenzied snapping of his hips as he bottoms out inside of you on every thrust. “‘m—close. P-please.”
“Since you asked so nicely,” Seokjin obliges, tapping the toy onto you a few more times. Your knees nearly give out in pure ecstasy as your orgasm sets in, so quickly and with such a pulsing insistence that you can’t even vocalize anything beyond a strained gasp that catches in your throat, and he tosses the now-silenced toy aside, using his adept fingers to roll at your nub and work you through the dregs of your orgasm. It only takes a sharp tug at your wrists, still held firmly behind your back in his large hand, for him to keep you upright and anchor you back to his chest. You throw your head back onto his shoulder at his show of pure, unbridled strength as he keeps your body upright, pressed against his own with seemingly no effort.
It feels like you’re being brought directly to heaven, or more accurately, dragged down to hell with the punishing pace of his fingers and cock, walls growing tighter around him after your orgasm. The way he’s twitching inside of you tells you he’s as affected as you had been just moments ago. Vaguely, you think you register a faint clang of metal somewhere, although it’s hard to make anything specific out when your pulse is thudding in your ears and your brain is hazy from pleasure.
His pumps inside of you are growing more and more erratic when a dull metallic scrape, one that would probably have gone unnoticed if you were paying any less attention to the sounds around you, suddenly registers in your ears. The sound of the scrape is nearly in direct response to the way you’re clenching around him in overstimulation. Then, you hear what can only be described as a light crunch, and it occurs to you what it is you’re hearing: nothing other than Seokjin’s necklace coming into contact with the enamel of his perfectly straight teeth in satisfaction as he hits just the right spot inside of you.
You’ve seen him absentmindedly take the pendant into his mouth when he’s lost in thought or when he’s concentrating playing games, so it’s not a stretch to assume that’s what’s happening now. Even with the blindfold still taking away your sight, you can almost vividly see what’s going on: he’s taken his pendant into his mouth, and you’re hearing it catch on this teeth and the sound of him biting down on it, hard, as he reaches his own end, spilling into you with a grunt that gets muffled into the sinewy juncture of where your neck bleeds into your shoulder.
“You biting down on your necklace all because of me, baby?” You tease, shuddering at the sudden emptiness as he slips out of you. “Aw, felt that good inside of me, huh?” You clumsily undo the blindfold, blinking slowly as the room's light floods your eyes.
“I think we need to try a gag for you next time, ________”, he growls, arms tightening around your frame as you both fall onto the bed.
(The necklace, miraculously, survives your tryst without a scratch, despite the gold's tendency to be damaged by impact -- like teeth clamping down on it. You suppose you’ll just have to challenge yourself to get Seokjin to leave marks on it next time.)
Another aspect of Seokjin's jewelry you’d come to learn about over his time working with the brand? How good the jewelry felt. Not just for the wearer, but on others. Especially on the most, well. Sensitive parts of others.
Seokjin had come home one day, fingers adorned with bands of varying thicknesses. The brand was focusing on their new ring collection and wanted him to promote them, he’d explained. Though the novelty of seeing him with necklaces and bracelets on had more or less worn off now that he’d been working with them for a few months, the rings were a completely new addition. He didn’t typically wear any rings aside from his low-profile wedding band, so the sight of several new, flashy bands on his slim fingers had caught you off guard.
All of his explanations had gone in one of your ears and out the other; you had been too busy admiring the way the bones of his long fingers were encased by the thick, bejewelled bands, how delicate he made the thinner, smaller rings look. The contrast between his large hands whose veins prominently stuck out and the polished, elegant rings he’d selected had made your mouth water.
Somehow, though, you’d managed to hold yourself back, quell whatever feelings Seokjin’s ringed fingers were stirring up inside of you. You’d been making dessert together later that evening, a chocolate cake in response to his sudden sweet tooth, when the temptation to do some market research of your own about the rings gracing your husband’s fingers had become too much to bear.
“Hey, you got a little cake batter on your hand,” you point out innocently, waiting for him to react. As he quizzically raises his hand out in front of him to examine it, a grin grows on your face like the cat that had eaten the canary.
“Where?” He says quizzically, flexing his hand as his rounded eyes scan it. “Where'd you see it? I don’t see anything.”
“Let me get it,” you roll your eyes and heave a sigh, as if you’re doing him some giant, taxing favour. Smoothly, you take his hand in your smaller one and, keeping direct eye contact with him, you take his index finger into your mouth up to the thick white-gold band that sits at the base of the finger, making sure to blink up at him through your eyelashes as you do. His eyes widen in surprise before turning dark.
You slide his finger out of your mouth with a lewd plop and get back to stirring the batter, folding it up and down like you give a shit. “Hmm, the batter tastes a little more metallic than I’m used to. Maybe it needs more sugar or something?” Your brow furrows in feigned concentration as you muse offhandedly, still watching as his eyes fill with lust.
That’d been how you’d ended up in this rather undignified position. You’d been hoisted up onto the kitchen island as if you’d taken the place of the dessert you were supposed to be making, shirt long discarded and legs falling open as Seokjin’s hands rubbed your heat through the sodden fabric of your panties. The bowl of half-prepared cake batter had been unceremoniously shoved onto a nearby counter.
“Who knew you’d be such a whore for these rings? So horny, all over some jewelry. Are you so easy that all it took to get you this wet was me wearing some rings?” he teases.
“Been distracted ever since you came home wearing them, wanted to feel them on me so bad,” you admit shamelessly, making direct eye contact with him, watching as his eyes narrow and jaw tightens as you go on. “Hands look so sexy when they’re all decorated and pretty.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “I could tell. Made up a stupid excuse to suck on my finger, talking about ‘there’s cake batter on your hand’,” his voice raises in pitch to emulate yours, and you roll your eyes at his exaggerated imitation of you. “Such a nasty girl, soaking her panties over some rings. Just wanted my attention, right? Wanted me to touch you with the rings on?” He’s really just goading you now.
Throbbing in anticipation for what he'll do next, all you can do is nod vigorously. He’s dead right, and you love it when his usual warmth disappears in favour of him being a little mean. The feeling of his fingers on your sex, even through a layer of fabric, is delicious; the rings, hard and unforgiving, make you squirm as they contrast with your soft flesh.
Your panties are roughly pulled to the side as if he’s in too much of a rush to even pull them all the way down your legs, and when the cool metal of his rings meets your heated folds, it’s an invigorating feeling. Still making no move to enter you, he does a few more experimental drags of the ringed fingers along your wet slit. The feeling is new and all too delectable, the feeling of the blunted edges of the diamond studs of one of the rings completely alien as they catch onto your folds.
The view of the cuffs and bracelets adorning his slim wrists, glimmering in the kitchen light, as his torturous movements have all the hairs on your body rising is an added bonus. It’s not long before he’s playing with your pussy like it’s an instrument he’s seeking to master, brushing over your lips and spreading them apart, doing everything but actually entering you.
If you bite down any harder on your bottom lip, you feel like it will explode. “Fingers feel so fucking good with the rings on, Jinnie.” As your mouth forms around his name, Seokjin’s ringed fingers brush up right against the delicate hood of your clit — intentional or not, you’re not sure — and you stiffen.
Of course your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed, and he does it again, watching carefully to see if you react just as much a second time. Indeed, you do. “So sensitive, princess,” your husband murmurs, hearing your breath catch in your throat.
That minuscule reaction seems to awaken something inside of him. He moves to lightly tap your clit with his ringed fingers, keeping his eyes on you at all times to monitor your reaction. On cue with his next tap, which is a little harder than the previous ones had been, your leg, once stretched out flat on the counter, tenses so that your knee flexes upwards and the sole of your foot comes up to rest flatly on the cold marble. He takes this as a sign to tap harder, making sure the heavy metal is in direct contact with your bud every time, and you sob in blissful agony.
“Feels — ah, hurts,” you whine, voice spiking up in pitch as Seokjin lays another ringed finger on your clit.
He’s just relishing in seeing you squirm, you can tell.
“Hurts? You’re dripping all over the fucking counter with every touch, though. My dirty girl must like it a little rough,” he murmurs sweetly with a kiss to your inner thigh, tone and demeanour in total contrast to the absolutely depraved feelings he’s drawing out of you.
Bastard.
It’s when you begin to writhe out of overstimulation that Seokjin takes pity on you. Well, at least you think it’s pity.
“Roll over,” he mutters, and you oblige, eager to see what he has in mind for you. Your front is pressed to the cool counter, contrasting the heat running through the rest of your body, and he lazily manhandles you to pull your hips down until your ass is close enough to him for his liking and you’re bent at the hips, lower half hanging off of the edge of the counter. You almost break your neck trying to adjust yourself so that you can watch what’s going on behind you. The sight itself is sinful; the bracelets he’s taken a liking to wearing glitter in the warm light of your kitchen as his hands trail slowly down your bare back to meet your ass. The grey sweatpants Seokjin prefers to wear at home do absolutely nothing to hide his arousal; clearly you’re not the only one turned on.
Though even the hardest of Seokjin’s taps on your clit had been pretty light, keeping in mind the sensitivity of the region, he has no such qualms for the meat of your ass cheeks. The first strike of his open palm is so sharp on its own that it has you recoiling into the firm counter, abdominal muscles clenching instinctively as if to brace against the impact of the hits, but the impact of the rings adds an additional, deliciously biting layer to the equation that has you near tears embarrassingly quickly. He alternates between light swats with only his fingers and harder slaps with his whole palm, making sure his ringed fingers are a focal point of the contact.
“Aw, that’s gonna hurt,” your husband drawls after a smack of his palm on your left glute, taking a break to soothe the skin, now burning hot with pain, with sweeping caresses of his palms. The sarcasm dripping off his words is practically tangible. “Might even leave bruises or something, princess.”
He’s evil.
“Fuck, l-like you care. You love leaving marks on — fuck — me,” you manage to sob out through the tears that well up in your eyes, though you’re interrupted by several smacks meeting the fat of your ass.
“My pretty wife is so smart, isn’t she?” The condescension in his tone isn’t lost on you, nor does it go unappreciated. You know he loves putting you in your place, setting you straight, and it makes you drip all the more for him. The cold air of the kitchen feels like a caress on the wetness between your legs, and you’re sure it’s visible how affected you are. Seokjin returns to his previous motions, taking care to ensure his ring-adorned fingers are also landing blows on your ass rather than only his palms.
The added impact from the rings on his fingers is becoming almost too much to bear. The tears freely spill down your face with every passing blow to your ass, and you’re sure you won’t be able to comfortably sit down after this.
“Not even touching your pussy and she’s still dripping this much,” he says, amazed. “You really like getting spanked that much, angel?” As if on cue, your pussy clenches around nothing, his words reminding you that he hasn’t even inserted a single finger inside you.
“Please, please,” you wail out, positively aching now.
“Use your words, princess. I can’t read your mind,” he says, bored. “What is it that you want?”
“Want fingers in me,” you get out, surprisingly more coherent than you feel.
“You’ve been so good. Think I can do that for you, give you what you’re begging for,” your husband coos, moving to leave kisses on the hot flesh and soothe the redness now blooming there with his bejewelled hands, and you wince as the diamond-studded metals bite into your skin.
When the soothing hand motions suddenly end, you feel the familiar breach of a blunt finger at your entrance and sigh contentedly at the feeling of finally being filled as Seokjin’s middle finger drags inside of your walls. The additional feeling of the hard metal inside of you is new, but not displeasing; it’s a curious contrast to the velvet skin stretched over hard bone that you’ve grown accustomed to feeling.
Once you’ve gotten used to the one finger, he slots in a second finger, also adorned with a ring. He (wisely) must have removed the diamond-studded ring, because you don’t feel any additional projections on the bands that are dragging along your walls, just the metal bands of varying thicknesses on the two fingers inside of you. Lazily, Seokjin curls his fingers inside of you, but makes no move to do anything else.
“Fuck yourself on them for me. You wanted my fingers so badly, use them,” he says, delivering another sharp smack to your ass cheek with his free hand. The abrasiveness of his words forces you to clench around him.
Though it’s hard to do that (or much of anything) from your position flat on the counter, you try your best, so agonizingly close to relief that you’ll do anything to get. You give a few experimental rocks of your hips to send them backward, which grants you some more relief in the form of his fingers and the metal encasing them rubbing against your hot walls, but it’s just not enough, doesn’t let his fingers get as deep as you need them. Instead, you get up on your forearms, lifting your torso up off of the counter and pushing up on your forearms so you have more room to move and rut against the two fingers he’s so generously offered you. This time you’re successful; the increased range of motion you have in your new position allows you to draw his fingers in further, faster, just the way you like. It doesn’t take long before your desperate ministrations have you shaking, coil inside of your stomach tightening with every shift of your hips. In desperation, your hand slides under you to rub at your clit in the hopes it’ll finish you off.
Not missing a beat, Seokjin slaps your wrist away from your cunt before you’ve even had a chance to begin stimulating yourself. “Slut. Wasn’t even enough for you to use my fingers to fuck yourself, greedy clit needed attention too. Tsk,” he chides. Your cheeks burn at his words.
In spite of his words, he replaces your own hand with his. You’re met by the same ringed finger he’d used to tap your clit swollen earlier, and it only takes a few more taps like those, in tandem with your desperate movements against the fingers that are now scissoring against your velvet walls, to send your chest falling back onto the counter as your arms give out under your body weight. “S-jin-ah!” You cry out in relief, a mix of his name and some jumbled curses, as your orgasm washes over you.
His fingers slip out of you as your walls constrict following your orgasm, but the finger at your clit stays there, still tapping at you with the unforgiving consistency of a metronome. “Too much,” you pant after a few beats, swatting his ringed finger away from your clit. He chuckles, but moves it away after you let out another garbled protest, and pulls you up to face him.
“Sorry you might not be able to sit down tomorrow,” Seokjin says, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“Probably have to call out of work,” you murmur tiredly, falling into his broad chest. Wouldn’t be the first time, nor would it be the last.
(Later that night, you’re in bed, drifting off to sleep when a thought occurs to you. “That chocolate cake would be so good right about now,” you sigh wistfully.
“Wonder whose fault it was that we got distracted,” he retorts dryly from beside you.
“Yours, technically,” you snap back. It’s true; everything had started with you thirsting over his ringed fingers, so if he had just left the rings off, you'd be blissfully eating cake right now, probably.
He flicks your forehead before he turns around, drifting off to sleep.)
You suppose you have another reason to be appreciative of the jewelry; how the sight of its pieces on your husband awakens your creative spirit. You’d argue the model is the primary source of your inspiration, though, but you suppose you can give the brand and its creations some credit for your sudden artistic awakening.
Earlier, your husband had returned from an event — a ‘fucking snoozefest’, as he’d described it before hopping in the shower — where he’d been tasked with schmoozing and hobnobbing with industry insiders as he showed off the brand’s newest collection. After emerging from the shower, he’d tumbled onto the bed in only his half-buttoned pyjama shirt and matching pants, not bothering to take any of his jewelry off. You’d been idly reading your book, but to say you’d been able to focus on the page you’d been reading after being faced with the sight of a fresh-faced, bare-chested Seokjin would be a lie.
“How was your day, beautiful?” He asks idly, eyes fluttering as he tries to fight back the urge to succumb to sleep.
“Boring. Had to train some newbie at work and it made me want to slam my head on my desk. It’s a lot better now that you’re back, though,” you grin, eyes shamelessly eating up the sight in front of you. You notice right away that he’d selected a new piece for the event: it was a longer chain, layered over top of the short one that he usually wore. The pendant of the chain falls heavy, landing somewhere in between his pecs, and you eye it hungrily. Your mouth is practically watering now.
“I like the new necklace, Jinnie,” you murmur, leaning over to place a warm kiss on his full lips. Even though you know he’s dead tired, his hands reach up to gently meet your head, tangling in your hair as he pulls you into him and lazily kisses you back from his prone position on the bed. “Such a good model, baby, they’re so lucky to have you working with them. So handsome.” His cheeks heat under your praise, and fuck if you’re not turned on now.
You take a moment to deepen the kiss, suckling on his bottom lip, before a thought flashes into your mind. You pull yourself off of his lips, which is a Herculean task considering Seokjin’s soft mouth. “I think I know how to make the necklace look even better, though,” you giggle mischievously.
“Mm? And how might that be?” His eyes lazily open to follow your movements, blinking slowly as they meet your playful gaze.
You hum, pretending to ponder your course of action for a bit. “Think we could benefit from a dash of colour,” you say. You push his shirt off of him, scrambling to undo the buttons he’s done up seemingly at random, before you crawl down his body. You’re eye level with his toned stomach now, leaving light kisses above his navel before greedily running your hands over his ab muscles, and you feel him shudder in response. You busy yourself with leaving a trail of wet kisses along his abs, moving upward to meet the shorter, delicate chain he typically wears resting atop of his pecs. His skin, always so reactive to your touch, is practically blooming in response to your ministrations. The way the gold chains he has on pop against his skin when the normally creamy skin gets flushed with arousal is stunning.
He lets out a contented hum, and you see him fighting to keep his eyes open. You lave kisses on each pec, paying special attention to each one of his dusky nipples, swirling your tongue over each one much like he does on your own chest. He’s sensitive there, very much so, hands flying up to tangle into your hair at the first instance of contact between your hot tongue and his nipple.
You move to focus on each pec in earnest. “Been hitting chest more often at the gym, honey?” You coo, in between laving your tongue over the hot flesh. “It shows.”
Seokjin chuckles, which trails off into a moan as your thumb moves up to graze his other nipple in the way you know he likes. As you suckle harder on his pec, his hand absentmindedly yanks in your hair, and when your teeth finally make their appearance on his fleshy muscle to leave a light bite, he keens upwards into your touch, short nails digging into your scalp in some combination of pain and pleasure.
You’re sure his styling team is going to hate you for the next week once they see the aftermath of your efforts on his chest, but you can’t find it in yourself to give a single fuck. If they could see him like you did, you’re sure they’d find your actions to be totally justified.
You, somehow, tear your lips off his pecs and travel back upward to his collarbones, making sure to give them the same attention you’d given the lower half of his chest, letting your tongue trace each collarbone from where it peeked under the thin skin of his sternum to where it ended at the width of his shoulder. And though you have enough restraint (and sympathy for his makeup team) to not leave any marks on his neck, that doesn’t stop you from kissing up and down the thick column as he writhes in pleasure underneath you. The kitten licks you leave on his pulse point have him shuddering, sighing sharply, and you can tell he’s enjoying it. The tips of his ears are burning red in the same way they do when he gets attention. “Feels so good, princess,” he groans.
“Only for you,” you coo, pushing his damp hair out of his face so you can see him better. “Treat me so well. Let me take care of you for once.” If it’s even possible, he reddens more at your attention and the amount of praise you’re layering on thick now.
The dampness in your panties is bordering on uncomfortable now, but you push through. Seeing Seokjin’s fair skin blush up with every movement of your lips, hearing his breathy moans in direct response to your actions, tasting and smelling the unique combination of greens and sandalwood that was so uniquely him is worth it, and you decide you can hang on a bit longer.
“You like that? Want me to make you feel even better?” You murmur softly, blinking up at him, but it’s almost rhetorical because you can already predict his answer, what with the contented noises you’ve been drawing out of him with your measured movements.
He nods yes, brown eyes peering out under heavy lids and long lashes. You leave a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before happily obliging, dragging his waistband down just enough to set his cock free, now hard and weeping at the tip, and watch as it slaps his lower stomach. The sight makes you want to lick your lips.
You give yourself a moment to admire the sight in front of you, the protruding, throbbing vein along the side of his cock that leads from his tip down to his balls; the dark red bordering purple of his cock head, looking ready to burst; the thick length of it, standing tall and proud against his stomach. Suddenly, your mouth waters, and you want nothing more than to feel it in your throat right away.
You let your thumb collect the moisture at his tip to spread it along his length, and he lets out a hiss, hand reaching up to catch your wrist mid-stroke.
“No more teasing, please, ________,” Seokjin pleads. It’s a rare event; usually you’re the one to be begging in the bedroom, which makes you cherish the sight even more.
You nod and leave a gentle, light kiss to his tip, one he would have thought he was imagining if he didn’t watch you do it, before you get to work. First, you use your tongue to swirl around his sensitive head, just like you know he likes, before hollowing your cheeks out to take the first bit of his length down your throat.
His size means it’s always a multi-stage process to get him all the way in your mouth, but sucking him off is worth it for his reactions alone. Your husband is very vocal about pretty much everything, be it tasty food or video games, but it’s something about the feeling of your hot mouth around his cock that gets him increasingly worked up, and today is no exception; he’s not even a third of the way buried in your mouth when he lets out a loud groan, shattering the otherwise perfect silence of the bedroom.
While you bob your head and drag the flat of your tongue along what’s in your mouth, one hand comes up to play with his balls, feeling the weight of each one in your hand. You blink up at him through wide eyes, and out of pleasure at the sight in front of him, his hips keen up and he fucks further into your mouth. You let out a cough at the unexpected intrusion, but stretch your mouth wider around him as best you can to accommodate him. The movement has saliva dripping out of the corner of your mouth and down his length, and tears prick at the corner of your eyes as your air supply is impacted.
“So perfect for me,” Seokjin says in awe, bringing a hand up to stroke your hair, and your heart twinges at the warmth in his eyes. “Look so good like this.” The saliva you’ve dripped out around him serves as lubricant for your hand to enclose around what’s left of him and give lazy tugs as the rest of him is stuffed in your throat. Idly, you think your hand looks tiny from where it struggles to close around the girth of him, and the sheer eroticism of the sight makes your pussy clench around nothing.
As spots dance in your vision, you pull off of his length just to give yourself time to breathe, sucking air in greedily as your hand keeps gliding up and down his length. Once you’ve caught your breath, you take in another gulp of air to prepare for the grand finale of taking his full length down your throat. This time, when your lips wrap around his cock, you barely have to pause to take all of him in, and it’s not long before your nose is nestled along the neatly trimmed hair at his base. By now you can barely see what’s going on in front of you, vision swimming with tears, but you blink the tears out of the way as best you can. After all, you don’t exactly need vision to do what you’re doing now, pretty much having committed the feel of him to memory by this point. You can hear the crisp sheets crinkling as Seokjin fists a hand into them in response to how good your mouth is working him.
When you withdraw a little to keep bobbing at his length, his hands draw back into your hair to guide the motion of your head, drawing a surprised moan out of you. With a single push to the back of your head, he sends you all the way down to the base of his cock, keeping you there for a moment until you’re gurgling around him and his length displaces all of the saliva in your mouth. The tears have long pushed past your cheeks now, but you don’t let them stop you from peering up at him lovingly. You relax your jaw and hum around his length, sliding your hand to his sack, now drawn up and practically ready to burst, to work him to his release as his hand settles idly at the back of your head, a heavy weight that threatens to send you back down at any moment.
“________, I’m close,” he whines in warning, hands entangled a little painfully in your hair now. You hum around him, and the grunt he lets out in response is low, so drawn out that it breaks at the end. You make no move to pull off of him, taking a deep breath in through your nose so as to get the oxygen you need to merely exist as you will your throat to clench around him one last time. That’s all it takes to send him over the edge, low groans erupting from his chest as he fills your throat with cum, and you keep your lips around him even as your mouth physically can’t keep everything in.
Once he begins to soften, slipping out of your mouth, you stick out your tongue for his view, making sure he’s seeing you swallow the remnants of his release, salty and earthy and undeniably him. His tired eyes watch in admiration. “So good to me, angel,” Seokjin murmurs, eyes still slightly dazed from the aftereffects of his orgasm.
You smile. “Told you I’d take care of you.” You toss a leg over top of him so that you’re seated on top of him now, leaning down to pepper his face with kisses. You plant a kiss to his lips now, slow and exploratory, taking time to open him up with your tongue and surprising him by suckling on his tongue. When you pull away, there’s a little strand of saliva that hangs between the two of you that gets disconnected as you lazily swoop back in for more. The combination of tastes on your lips is heady, undeniably Seokjin: the salt of the cum you’d just swallowed; the musky taste of his cock, and then the freshness of his toothpaste layered on top of the lip balm he always has on hand.
It doesn’t take much for him to get hard again. The thin layers of the pyjama pants and underwear you’re still wearing don’t do much to shield his hardening length from you, and you just can’t help yourself; you send your hips back with an experimental roll, eyes squeezing shut with how good his cock feels underneath you, all of its veins and ridges. You have to stop yourself from just rutting on your husband like a horny teenager, and when you snap your eyes open, he’s staring back up at you, pupils blown black.
You rise briefly to tug the offending layers off of you, spreading the wetness that’s now gathered at your entrance to make the stretch easier before you lower yourself down on him. You both groan as you watch yourself slowly but surely swallow up his length, your lower lips spreading to take the width of him in, gripping onto him tightly.
Although you’re more than wet enough to reduce the friction of the way down, Seokjin hadn’t prepared you to take his thick length, so the stretch is agonizing, even more so than usual, but it’s so delicious that it rips a loud moan out of your throat. “Stretching me so good, baby, feels amazing,” you murmur, pausing to adjust to the feeling of him inside of you. Your hands clumsily seek purchase on his chest as you wriggle on top of him, and he lets his head fall back in pleasure.
Recognizing how tired he is, you lazily push him down when he makes a move to grab at your waist to pull himself up and thrust into you from underneath in favour of continuing to leisurely ride him. You let your clit drag against his pelvic bone when you need extra stimulation, which also has the effect of making you clench around his cock. If your husband’s groans are any indication, he’s near his own end, but you can tell he’s not close enough for your liking. As you quicken the pace of your bounces astride him, you snake a hand down to his nipples, which you know are sensitive, and twist them in between your index and middle fingers for a bit.
“Making me feel so ff-good, honey, what did I do to deserve — shit — you?” he groans out. Now it’s your turn to preen under the weight of loving words, eyes trailing down his body before remembering what had gotten you into this position in the first place.
The damned necklace.
Suddenly, you move with an urgency you have no idea the source of. You take the pendant on the long chain from where it fell in between his pecs, flip it over to the side that hadn’t been in contact with his skin and, suddenly, drop it on his nipple, drawing out a gasp from him. The pendant is warm enough to not be a total temperature shock while still being cool enough to be able to surprise him.
“So sexy with your jewelry on, aren’t you? You promote all of this jewelry, but it’s such a shame,” you say, voice coated in feigned disappointment, and his eyes narrow when they meet yours, almost as if he knows what you're going to say next. "Such a shame that only I get to see you this way,” you say, possessiveness now creeping into your tone as your bounces on top of him grow more and more erratic. “So pretty, but only for me. Aren’t I so lucky?”
Your breathless words are turning you on even more somehow, in combination with his moans and the way he’s sloppily thrusting up at random to meet your hips as they swivel on top of him, letting the head of his cock practically kiss against your cervix with how deep it is. You feel your orgasm coming on more quickly than you’d anticipated.
“Mm, I’m lucky, too,” he groans, so low it’s almost a whisper. “Only one that gets to — ah —“ he’s interrupted by a particularly harsh clench of your walls around him — “have you like this.”
You lean down for a brief kiss. “Gonna try something,” you whisper. His tired eyes widen in surprise as you lift off of him completely, ignoring his furtive complaints and also your own release running away from you. Instead, you pull your husband over to lie on his side before slotting in on your side in front of him, grabbing his length and tapping it on your clit. You both let out a moan then, but this isn’t the only trick you have up your sleeve. Instead, you slot it in until he’s halfway sheathed inside of you, moaning as you can feel him even deeper in this position. The head of his cock feels like it’s right underneath your belly button, as if you could press down on your stomach and feel him inside of you; the thought alone is practically euphoric enough on its own. Instead, you slowly fuck yourself back on him, and blessedly, your husband gets the memo, lazily thrusting upwards.
“Remember you said you wanted to try cockwarming, honey?” You whisper. He lets out a guttural groan then, and you can tell that he’s so turned on by the mere prospect of it that he’s close to coming.
“Let’s try that today, baby. Want to take care of you,” you say, letting your hips circle around him.
“So perfect for me, my sweet girl, treating me so well. F-fuck, I love you,” he says, words trailing off at the end into incoherent babbles as you increase the speed of your ass bouncing back on him, going harder and harder, and dragging your agile fingers along your clit for your own benefit. He pushes his hands down on your lower stomach — just where it feels like the head of his cock is hammering into you — and that’s enough to send you over the edge. You clench down around him, hard, back snapping up off of where it had been supported by his own chest. He’s not far behind. The twitches of his length inside of you only precede the hot mouth closing around your neck and shoulders only by a few seconds as he comes inside of you.
“Keep it in, baby. Feels so fucking good, Jinnie, shit,” you groan. You can tell your husband is too fucked out to say anything back as the feeling of your walls around him gets to be too much, but you try your hardest to keep him in place, fighting your own overstimulation even as his length rapidly softens inside of you.
“Love you,” he mumbles, pressing soft kisses to your back, shoulder, and neck.
Your eyes, suddenly, feel heavy. Some combination of the late hour, your strenuous activities, and the heat surrounding you pulls your eyelids down like gravity, all while your husband is still nestled inside of you.
When you awaken the next morning, satisfied both from your uninterrupted sleep and the events of the previous night, you realize that despite your best efforts to keep him inside, your husband's cock has slipped out of you, and wince at the soreness between your legs. Turning to admire your still-asleep husband as the beginnings of sunlight peek through the curtains onto his chest, you admire the the fruits of your hard work.
The white gold of his chains shimmers in the faint morning light, making them stand out even more against the blooming crimson love bites you’ve left on his pecs. You smile to yourself as the sight makes you think about the ways that other jewelry he wore would look over top of the art you’d so meticulously left on him, especially that thick, corded diamond cable necklace he’d worn a few times before somehow losing.
Who’d have thought jewelry could be quite so… multifaceted? Certainly not you, but you were more than happy to have been proven wrong.
Thanks for reading! This is the first fic that I’ve managed to finish within the same year of starting, which is a huge accomplishment for me since the other ones have been in various stages of development for 2-5 years. I promise that I tried to make this short - it was supposed to be blurbs!!, but I blacked out and got carried away and suddenly we got to 19 pages of pure smut. The sight of Seokjin dripped out in all of these expensive chains has a chokehold on me, clearly. And just know that if he ever gets a luxury watch sponsorship this fic will get a sequel so Rolex, Audemars Piguet, or Patek Phillipe if you’re out there (hopefully not reading this though) you know what to do.
I’m pretty sure Fred Jewelry would send me a cease and desist if they knew this fic existed but I hope you enjoyed! I’d love to know what you thought of this and/or any ideas for what to do next 😇❤️😘
Summary • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 There were ten million reasons why Kim Seokjin was World Wide Handsome, everybody knew that −but, there were some things that only you knew...
Pairing • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 idol!seokjin x f!reader
Word Count • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 5.5k (I could have gone on and on, and on −you get the idea!)
Elements • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 calling Seokjin Jjan; breast play; nipple play; nipplegasm; choking; no panties; thigh riding; praise kink; 🔞; world wide handsome; big dick Seokjin; dirty talk
Author's Note • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 anon, you had my mind filling up with all kinds of dirty, hot, naughty, filthy things. actually, I’ve written a few fantasies with similar themes (Jin does something crazy to me when it comes to getting down and dirty −hardcore bias wrecker) but those have never been posted. they’re just for my eyes only, hehe −but I did revisit a couple of them for this one, which was an absolute turn-on to write, so thank you for this request. I hope it meets with your approval. As ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked. it’s so totally unfair how badly Kim Seokjin wrecks me, ugh. the man is HOT in bold, capital, 72+ font and then some −and he’s getting f***ing hotter…
**finally, this ‘author’ claims no responsibility over wet p*****s caused by the Seokjin thirst in this fic 😉
**This is meant as a work of fiction and does not reflect the artist’s views/behaviour in any real way.
•𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ )
•𓂃𝜗𝜚 seokjin masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ )
• 𓂃𝜗𝜚 ( ❛ bts taglist ❜ )
There were ten million reasons why Kim Seokjin was World Wide Handsome, everybody knew that -but there were some things that only you knew.
Only you knew how he could bite you just so to be the right side of excruciatingly pleasurable, or exactly how his plump, overripe strawberry lips could reduce you to tears with a simple little suck. It was so unfair, the way he had you squirming with shameless need with the softest kisses, and the gentlest, tenderest caresses in all the right places.
God surely had created him solely to ruin you.
From where you sit on his lean, muscular, Gucci-clad thigh, you look across at the most beautiful face you had ever seen. Every perfect, latte-coloured inch of luminous, smooth skin worthy of his self-given title, and then some. It wasn’t the lotions and potions he endorsed that did that, oh no, in Seokjin’s case, it was all divine intervention.
Soft, expressive, almond eyes, with hues of the most decadent chocolate rain, cleanly framed by exquisite, well-defined brows look back at you. You could get drunk in his eyes, intoxicated in the desire you see brimming deep within those fathomless, stormy depths.
A man like that could ruin anyone with one look. You should know.
“Dirty girl,” he whispers in your ear.
The effect on your body is instantaneous −igniting like a match to gasoline, spreading over you, head to toe, your every nerve on fire as you grind down over his thigh.
You had already slipped off your panties for him the moment he had got home −two weeks waiting for him to get back from continents away had made you a living nymphomaniac running on pure heat, who had thought of nothing else apart from when the next time you would be able to feel Seokjin’s brutally devastating mouth on you.
The friction against your bare cunt as you slide over his leg is the sweetest sensation you had felt in over a fortnight.
“You’re such a slut for me, hmm?” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck, silky hair tickling at your throat, teeny-tiny nips made at the hollow of your throat provoking breathless puffs out of you in suffocating, short bursts.
That, and the way it seems so illegally filthy whenever any cuss word came out of that innocent, pretty-ful mouth.
“Jjan−,” you sigh, hands digging into his thick, feather-soft hair, tugging firm against his scalp.
You lean down to bury your face against the top of his head, inhaling the musky, masculine scent of his all over wash that you love to use when he’s away, just to feel like he’s still beside you. Because missing him feels like half of you is gone.
You feel him smile against your neck, his hands threading under the shirt you wear to find and cup your breasts. “It’s so cute when you call me that, jagi.”
His voice always dips at least two octaves deeper, sometimes possibly three, when he’s being intimate with you. It takes on a sensual, almost lazy quality that you feel reverberating right into your soul, one that gives his moans a seductive, drug-like, high effect you can never get enough of.
Those moans are an aphrodisiac you couldn’t buy in any store in the world, and they’re just for you. You hum proudly, placing a series of loving kisses at his brow.
Seokjin squeezes the soft flesh of your breasts with just enough pressure that you whine, your grip on him tightening, your cunt pushing down onto his leg as you chase more friction. You’ll be making a right mess on his pants, you can already feel how much slick has started to pool between your legs.
“I love your tits,” he tells you, smishing his face just where your shirt is left open by two buttons, giving just enough of a view to the top of the valley of your breasts. “So soft, so bouncy −so perfect for me.”
His finger and thumbs place simultaneously on both sides to pinch at your nipples, and you arch your head back, exposing the column of your throat, calling out his name once more in the way that he liked to hear.
Stirring sensations pulse through you under his touch, and he begins rolling your nipples slowly between his fingers, pulling and twisting until you are writhing and rutting on him as if you were on some bucking bronco.
If the world could see you now. Kim Seokjin playing with your tits while your cunt leaked like a faucet left open on full, all over his expensive Gucci slacks. Hell, you’d let him fuck you in front of God himself. Call it appreciation or something of His best creation.
“You like it when I play with your tits, don’t you baby?” Seokjin says, delivering a series of sucking kisses over your collarbone as he continues to elongate your nipples. “Want me to play with them, hmm?”
“Yes!” you breathe desperately.
It’s true. Intimacy with him was perfect. So soft and tender, rich with passion, yet devastatingly obscene at times it made your head spin, the slightest reminder of the kinds of things you would let him do to you making your body thrum with excitement.
Seokjin takes his hands away from your breasts, bringing them up to the first done up button of your shirt. It’s his shirt actually. You had thrown it on straight after showering in your eagerness to have him back as soon as possible, impatient for your man.
His large, pristine white designer shirt (Seriously, at least four sizes too big on you. He had those infamous broad shoulders, you know) that had been hanging at the back of the door since he’d left had been your choice of a welcome home outfit.
Deciding to lose all your underwear had been the surprise gift, something you had never been brave enough to try before, but one that watching his delight when he’d discovered it made it what you credit as a good call. It had been a turn on seeing you standing there in just his shirt, but he’d gotten hard instantly the moment you’d sat astride him and given him a peek under it.
With deft fingers, Seokjin loosens the first couple of buttons. You hadn’t done them all up, he’s halfway through. Your body tenses with that excited apprehension as the shirt starts to fall open to reveal your exposed breasts to him.
As the final button comes apart, he draws in a sharp intake of breath when he parts the material, his eyes feasting on what he always tells you are your ‘beautiful tits’. He makes no secret of how much he adores them, and for you, it’s exquisite heaven.
Having him devote that hungry mouth and his capable hands to your breasts repeatedly, never tiring of them, taking a whole lot of pleasure from stimulating you that way brings an entire new level of arousal to you that drives you to delirium.
Seokjin eases the shirt away from your shoulders and you shrug it back without removing it entirely, knowing that the visual would turn him on. Seeing you in his shirt, naked and needy for him, would turn his cock rock hard for you.
You reach between his legs, knowing just what you would find. He hisses, followed by a soft, throaty moan as you palm over his protruding, massive bulge with a deliberate stroke. Only once, you didn’t want to give away too much too soon.
Your mouth waters at the thought. Seokjin’s cock was a work of art, even when it just hung between his legs like a dormant monster −but erect? Now that was painfully, achingly desirable. The way it was shaped and sized so well that he hits it right where you wanted it to bring you to earth-shattering heights, not just once or twice, but as many as three times sometimes. He was so fucking good, and his cock a blessing you’d counted more times than you’d had kisses.
Your walls clench around nothing and you groan in frustration, rocking yourself a little faster on him.
With the ready access to your body, his hands are drawn to your breasts again as he claims your lips in a long, open-mouthed kiss. His tongue dances over yours, tasting like strawberries and cream from the sponge cake you had made for him earlier, as he kneads you gently. You reciprocate, mouth parting obediently under his searching one, giving him what he wants.
When he pulls back, your breasts already feel heavy and swollen from his attention. Seokjin lets them weigh in his palms, raw want in his expression as he takes you in. The jutting peaks of your puckered nipples, tautly stretched as if straining for something, sensitive to the slightest touch as he glides his thumbs over them, and the lightest quiver of your stomach as you work your cunt against him under his lustful gaze.
“Such beautiful tits,” he coos, biting at the puffy corner of his lower lip in the manner that drives you crazy. “So sweet… mm… so sweet I want to taste you.”
“God, Jjan!” you cry, his words eliciting a surge of arousal in you.
Your hands fly forward, resting on his shoulders, fingers clutching at the fabric of his black shirt. But you want the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, longing to feel the expanse of the muscles of his back.
“Yes, baby, I’m right here,” he says, voice low and husky as he kisses your neck again, mouth lowering, making a beeline for your breasts torturously slowly, leaving you wrecked and brokenly moaning, the wait excruciating.
The moment you feel his lips touch the swell of your breast, you shudder, your clit pulsing.
“That’s right,” Seokjin says softly, voice laced with seduction. “You’re soaked already, I can feel your wetness on me, baby.”
Your face flushes furiously, his words making you blush like red roses on white canvas. You cover your face with your hands instinctively, but Seokjin brings them down again slowly.
“Uh-huh −it’s too late to be shy, baby girl,” he tells you sternly. “You’re the one who greeted me without panties.”
The way he can go from schoolteacher to nerd in zero point one second never fails to impress you. You love it, it means there is never a dull moment with him, and you want the dark side as much as you want the lighter side of him. Both came with a supersized cock and that pure but dirty mouth, so as far as you were concerned, it was win-win.
Seokjin lowers his hands to your waist and adjusts you on his leg, giving him more room to worship your breasts. He squeezes them together, bringing them up, the corner of his tongue pink and wet, suspended at the corner of his mouth, just peeking out. The sight is too much.
“Please−,” you plead, your body already too weak to chase your release with as much fervour as you had been.
“Please, what?”
He’s in dark mode now. Knowing how this anticipation would be needling you with an insatiable craving to feel his mouth on you. Wanting to hear you beg for it, not because he was arrogant, but because having the one and only World Wide Handsome put your tits in his glorious mouth was worth getting on your knees for −metaphorically speaking or otherwise.
He pulls at your nipples, pinching a bit harder. He’s a master at build-up, with the patience of at least ten saints. He can keep that raging hard-on that way for as long as he needed to when he really wanted you to work for it. You on the other hand have none. You’re dripping and aching and gagging for him. You’d sell your soul for him when he made you like this.
Gospel.
“Please suck my tits,” you manage to get out through ragged breaths.
Seokjin smirks. “There, now that wasn’t so hard now, was it, hmm?”
You resume your grinding on him, renewed with the urge to control your release before you combusted right here on Seokjin’s lap far too early.
He tuts, pinching at your nipples harder, long fingers closing around your breasts to squeeze harder. “You’re making a right mess, aren’t you?” he chides. “So eager for me, baby. I like it.”
Holy fuck. He could really use that fucking tongue of his in so many ways, all of which had your body screaming inwardly, scorched and burning with need for him. He had the extraordinary ability to have you hurtling so close to the edge armed with nothing but those filthy words that rolled so easily off his weapon of a tongue.
Kim Seokjin should come with a warning. Several warnings, an alarm and flashing lights.
You grab at the collar of his shirt, pulling him forward hard, leaning in to bite a kiss at those soft, juicy lips. Why should you suffer alone? But he’s strong, so much stronger than you, and without breaking a sweat, he cups your face, dark eyes so alluring arresting yours with a look so intense it winds you and you gasp.
“Jin,” you whisper, slipping into what you usually called him. “I need you. I need to cum, baby. Please.”
His hands roam down over your body, leaving your breasts momentarily to grasp at the curve of your ass. He grabs on, pulling you over him, guiding your movements as you gyrate over him, moaning as your cunt is stimulated.
It’s always so much better when he does things.
“So wet,” he says, eyes on your cunt, travelling up and back to your breasts. “Mm… I love to watch you like this. So sexy for me like this.”
His fingers dig into your ass harder, forcing you down, lifting his thigh slightly to increase the rub on you. “You wanna cum?” he says hotly. “You wanna cum all over me like this, hmm?”
“Yes, please,” you choke out in a half-sob as your pleasure mounts. “Jin, please, please.”
“You make that word the sexiest word on earth,” he says, “I could listen to you say it over and over until I−.”
You close your mouth over his, swallowing the word with a kiss, your climax abandoned for now. It’s an innate reaction, you can’t bear the thought of ever being without him, and that word was banned. He should know better, he was the one who had made banning the D-topic a thing. You were just upholding his rules.
He kisses you sweetly and softly in a way that you can taste his smile, lovingly stroking your hair in gentle, affectionate motions. Reassuring you he knows, recognises what he is to you. The same as you are to him −everything.
This time when his head dips, he takes your breast into his mouth without hesitation. You aren’t expecting the wet heat of his tongue so instantly, and you cry out as you feel his mouth envelope you.
The first suckle is strong −his jaw is strong. He had told you he had a good bite, and he hadn’t been exaggerating. When Seokjin gave love bites, they bloomed and marked your skin for days on end in red, blue and purple hues, evidence of his claim on you.
Working at you with both his hands and mouth, you relax into the sensations he elicits from you. You look down, hands caressing his hair, watching as his mouth hollows and latches onto you, his tongue flicking over your nipple on one side, fingers stimulating the other.
He looks up as he switches sides, flicking out the tip of his tongue to lap at you. He makes you think of a baby fawn −innocent, bright eyed and beautiful. But he’s not fragile, you know better than anyone that he can be a wolf.
Oh, but the feeling of his mouth on your breasts is a delight. It feels divine. Seokjin’s every touch was nothing short of ecstasy. Mouth, hands, tongue, cock −whatever it was, he always did it just right.
You find a slower rhythm now as you circle your clit against him, moaning in gentle sighs as your sensitive bud tingles, your walls tightening. Seokjin leans into you more, his head heavier on your chest, resting against you as he places kisses between your breasts, hands still tugging at your wet nipples.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, teeth closing over one nipple while his tongue eases the pain into pleasure. “If I suck your beautiful tits for long enough, do you reckon you might milk for me eventually?”
“Jjan,” you whimper helplessly, your grinding temporarily increasing. “I can’t−.”
“You can’t what, baby? You can’t milk for me?” Seokjin asks, brushing over your nipples with the back of his hands and making you mewl, straining forward for his touch. “No matter, I’m sure you will someday. I’ll make sure of it.”
His promise excites you, the prospect of it adding another dimension to your arousal. His velvet mouth starts to suckle you again, this time harder, pulling on your breast, biting at your nipples while his hand never fails to give the other attention. All the while, you work yourself over him, cunt verging on overstimulation from the fabric and intensity of your grinding, your climax nearing.
Your eyes close now, your attention completely concentrated on the deep sensations of pleasure that had begun to come more frequently. A heady mixture of pain and pleasure from the overzealous demand of his teeth and the soothing, searching hungry need of his wet, entrancing mouth, swollen lips providing soft tender touches to your starved, aroused skin.
You become aware of a rising feeling that starts to unfurl within you, beginning at the very core of you, tightening and coiling like a viper waiting to strike at any second. You feel sexual, powerful, back arched as you lean back, pushing your body all the way up to his so his erection can feel you hit it every time you rock forward over his thigh.
“Such pretty tits,” he moans, “I want to wake up every morning with these in my mouth.”
You groan lewdly, sounding like a porn star. If Seokjin recorded and sold himself saying things like this, he’d have an easy number one, with women all over climaxing to the sounds of his dirty talk. He could make reading a telephone number sound like he was asking you to finger fuck yourself for his eyes only.
And damn, where was that dirty imagination from?
A bite on the underside of your right breast steers you back on course, and once more you continue to make that climb. The feeling starts up again and your eyes flicker open in surprise.
This wasn’t just some getting you in the mood, start-up from him sucking your breasts. You honestly feel like you could actually orgasm from him playing with you like this. It’s the craziest revelation you had reached. You had heard snippets of it being a thing here and there, but it had never happened to you before. Honestly, you had never thought it was possible, convinced that those who had claimed to have experienced it were exaggerating about their sex lives in order to brag.
But now, with the wet pull of Seokjin’s mouth on you, the devoted attention of his hands on you, looking at you with all that longing reverence and raw, unabashed lust, it doesn’t seem so impossible. Going by the way your body was feeling, wrought with an ache that cried out to be released, you were on your way.
“God, don’t stop, Jjan−,” you urge suddenly, hips working rhythmically over him. “It feels like I might−.”
Seokjin looks up at you, rapture mixed with disbelief etched on his handsome face. “What− seriously?”
“Yes,” you breathe. “I can feel it, I don’t know. It’s never happened before −just don’t stop, okay?”
He smirks again triumphantly, full of pride that he might just accomplish something that had never been done before. “Oh, you will cum for me now, baby−” he says, “Even if I have to play with your beautiful tits all night long.”
Yeah, Kim Seokjin was top of the class when it came to dirty talk.
He doesn’t waste any time, back working at your breasts with determination. Your legs open more, looking to extract yet more from the strength of his thigh, while he suckles on you like a man possessed.
Sure enough, you can feel his stimulation find the right points, that tension that had lay taut and waiting inside you was nearing the verge of snapping.
Suddenly you feel Seokjin’s hand wrap around your throat firmly, pushing your back further, fingers pressing down lightly on you.
You gasp, adrenaline soaring, your pulse jumping in that state between thrill and fear as your body relents to him. His mouth is still fixed on your left breast, tongue prodding at your aching, sore nipple, lips softly brushing over your skin.
“Jjan, don’t stop!” you implore desperately, speeding up your movements, your thighs shaking, muscles tightening. “I need to cum −please. Fuck. Please, don’t stop.”
His thumb runs over your lips, pushing into your open mouth, running over the ridge of your teeth. You lick at the digit, his fingers closing tighter around your neck, mouth sucking harder over your breast. Your heat and slick pool faster, walls tensing, your climax beckoning.
Fuck Seokjin’s Gucci slacks.
You’ve never felt more sexual. Dirty, hardcore, like a desirable goddess, all just for him. Your Seokjin. Nobody else’s.
“Jjan− I’m close,” you grunt, lifting a hand to cover his at your throat. He takes your cue, tightening his grip, almost choking you but not quite. Enough to lift your arousal towards breaking point.
“That’s right, let it go for me, Y/N−” he murmurs. “Show me how you cum for me, my sweet slut.”
He whispers something else afterwards, something in Korean you don’t understand, but you know it’s something filthy. Whatever it is, he sounds so fucking sexy, and your hips roll purposely over him. His hands come away from your throat and wrap around your waist.
And then, he does just enough, licking your nipple once, twice, sucking once, then twice. He blows over the wet, stiff peaks, his breath making them ache painfully. It feels so good you want to cry.
The soft suction of his plump lips is exquisite, the pull on your skin agonizingly slow, and eliciting all manner of delightful sensations that poured forth from your every nerve, maddening and completely addictive. As if everything were all chained together in one delicious link that he yanked on relentlessly, pulling forth every pleasurable response your body could deliver.
He owns you like a musical maestro on his instrument, playing all the right notes, gearing up higher, evoking such depth of feeling with his fingers until he reached the final, magical crescendo.
“Jin−,” you implore in the faintest, breathiest moan, your nerves stretched thin now, hovering weakly on the edge right before the descent, “−Please Jin, don’t stop, −please!”
Seokjin lifts his head slightly, taking in your flushed, rapture-filled face, eyes glazed and almost teary, skin tinged with the rush of blood, thin film of sweat beading your brow, and your mouth parted in the praying mantra of his name.
When you look back at him, he’s so beautiful your heart aches. Willingly you would put yourself on the altar of sacrifice for him, let him take what he wanted from you, break you, fill you and devour everything you had to give him. Belonging to him in every way you could.
He can see you’re close, knows it from the wild look in your eyes that he’s brought you to that point where you’re ripe for the taking. The smallest smirk plays about his plump, pink lips.
“Oh God −Jjan!” you cry pathetically, tugging at his shirt so hard you hear one of the buttons snap off.
But you don’t care. You would buy him another ten if he wanted. You’re too gone to think straight, needing to feel his skin under your touch, needing that closeness as your fingers make contact with his chest.
He doesn’t seem to care either.
“Fuck, I want you,” you wail, frenzied with your need for him, unable to form any sort of sensible thought that doesn’t revolve around Seokjin and how he can make your body obey him like a devotee.
“I know, baby,” Seokjin whispers hotly.
You’re delirious, falling deeper into that vortex of rising pleasure, the sensations his touch on you gives so sharp and sweet at once, his scent consuming you, his salacious mouth relentless on your breast.
He sucks and licks you altogether one final time so perfectly you come apart with a force that gives you no warning as it rips through you like a tornado. Your walls convulse, legs shaking, your mind blanking into nothing but white, bright spots dancing behind your eyes, as your climax thunders and ravages through you.
“Jin!” you scream, unable to hold back as you grasp whatever is nearest, not even knowing what it was, your fingers gripping until your knuckles had whitened. “My God, Jin, −oh fuck! God, I can’t…”
You dissolve into a babbling, incoherent mess, barely lucid. All you know is him, only your Seokjin.
It’s like lightning, volts of electricity running up and down your spine, your body juddering uncontrollably in his arms. Seokjin continues to lavish attention on your breasts, holding you tightly as you cum, your body pulsing in deep, long bursts as you experience one of the most shattering climaxes you had ever had.
When it’s finally over, he kisses you softly, murmuring soothingly as he holds you, stroking your back. “That good, huh?” he asks, pushing back a strand of your hair from your face and feeling his soaked pant leg with amusement.
You can’t even barely speak, still contracting in your post-climax stage, and shocked it had even been possible. You nod weakly, eyes hazy, your body entering that comedown that made you sleepy, but still unsated, wanting that high to go on forever.
“You’re so handsome,” you sigh, touching his lips with the lightest touch you can muster, as if you were afraid anything more might destroy them.
You could look at him for an eternity. Your perfect prince.
“You look so fucking ruined,” Seokjin tells you with a smile that melts your soul, the cuss word spurring on a fresh wave of longing in you. “I’ve completely spoiled you now. I suppose you’ll be wanting one of those more regularly now, hmm?”
Your eyes widen, gleaming mischievously, suddenly invigorated at this possibility. “You bet, World Wide Handsome,” you say with a playful wink.
Seokjin’s got that look in his eye now, the one that gives you tremors that flutter deep inside your cunt. He’s kept himself hard for you, just like he always did, but it’s his turn now. Without another word, he reaches down to unbuckle his belt, zipper down without any fuss, his gaze pinning you with intent, his face dusted with a rosy-pink hue as he reaches into his slacks and takes out his beautiful cock.
You swallow, groaning audibly as he reaches for you with strong arms, pulling you to him, hands cupping your ass as he manoeuvres your body over his crotch where his thick, towering erection waits.
You’re so wet that you slide just over halfway down without difficulty, your stimulated cunt taking him in hungrily. Seokjin starts to lower you onto him further, pushing his length into you, impaling you bit by bit, accompanied by soft, whispery, ragged moans that should be forbidden.
Your cunt stretches obediently around him, scrambling to adjust to just how engorged and swollen he is inside you. The tightness as he goes further causes him to slide into impatience and his next few thrusts come a little faster, more eager, concentration etched on his handsome face as he attempts to fit his entire massive cock into your cunt.
“Jjan,” you breathe, “Go a bit slower, baby. You’re so−.”
“Y/N,” Seokjin interjects darkly, voice taut, warm hands caressing over your thighs, your shirt lifting as he goes further up until he’s bracketing your waist, ready to dictate the speed. “I’ve waited so long to feel this. I need to be inside you.”
You give a sharp cry of agony and ecstasy as he edges himself in a little more, rocking you against him slowly, his hips rotating, working at you, angling you for his own pleasure. The discomfort gives way quickly to the satisfaction of feeling full inside, the beginnings of that familiar ache sparking as the head of his cock reaches your cervix.
“Fuck−,” you whine, clinging to him, pushing down, feeling the walls of your cunt stretch to breaking point as you wonder whether he was going to split you apart at any moment. “You’re so fucking big!”
Your words buoy him with pride and the last of his restraint ebbs away as he clutches you, slamming his hips up into you, burying his cock balls deep in you. “You know I love to make you sore,” he tells you, reaching down to brush his thumb over your clit with precision. “So you’ll feel me for days inside you, just the way you like it.”
“Yes, yes −Jin!” you sob, the pleasure and pain that consumes you an instant high. You do want more. You want him to destroy you on his glorious cock. He’s so right, you love it. “Fuck me, baby −please, please.”
Your pleas and pants come thick and fast, and Seokjin is only too willing to oblige as he does indeed fuck into you. You start to grind down onto him, riding him until you’ve almost forgotten every reality except the way his cock feels inside you.
“That’s right, give me another,” he urges, pressing firm strokes over your bud while he hits your depths. “Cum for me, my dirty girl.”
It doesn’t take long for him to bring you to climax, the second one almost as intense as the first, almost bringing you to tears as you feel yourself soak his cock, the sounds of your skin slapping against him lewd and explicit.
The clenching of your walls around his cock and the sight of you wild-eyed and wrecked climaxing over his cock is enough to have him letting go, and you feel his cock pulse, throbbing and releasing, filling you with hot spurts of his cum.
“Oh fuck!” he moans, breathing heatedly at your neck, kissing and nipping needily as he holds you in place, letting every drop flow into you. “Too good, baby. So good.”
His slacks are an absolute cum-soaked mess. You too are a mess. Seokjin however, in his post-cum bliss, face flushed, eyes glassy, mouth parted, is even more enthralling than ever as he looks up at you.
You steal a quick kiss from his beguiling mouth, earning you another of those exquisite tugs on your nipples. You grumble, unsure how you could possibly manage a third finish despite your body still reacting as if you were on heat at his slightest touch. Who were you kidding, the man could take you apart with a lot less than he’s giving you now.
“Jjan?” you ask softly, a teasing smile tugging at your lips, brushing back his hair that falls over his forehead boyishly and kissing the top of his head, fingers playing with the strands that curl at his nape.
Having your World Wide Handsome wanting you the way he did, fucking you so damn good, was a thrill money couldn’t buy. It just got better with him every time. You couldn’t imagine anything could satisfy you except him.
“Mm?” he answers, distracted with your breasts again, kissing the tops as he holds you.
Summary: You find out your roommate Namjoon is an OnlyFans creator and had a collab fall through. He is worried about making rent on time and asks you to be in a video with him to help him make his deadline. Before you make your decision, you do your own research.
Preview: “Did you like what you watched?” He persisted, taking another sip of his drink.
“I uh, didn’t watch anything. I just scrolled really.” You lied very unconvincingly.
“You know, these walls are very thin.” He explained, using his finger to tap against the eggshell white paint of the kitchen. “Any little sound, or buzzing noise, can be heard very well. So let’s try answering that question again.”
Content Warning: 18+ NSFW. NO MINORS. Service Dom! Namjoon. Sub! Reader. Reader is kind of annoying and pushy in the beginning for the plot sorry. Masturbation (f). Mention of watching porn w description of m/m videos (bisexual Namjoon), solo videos, and m/f videos. Talk about porn/sex. Nipple play. Dry humping. Oral sex. (M and f receiving) Fingering. Major overstimulation. Multiple orgasm. Pussy worship. Use of sex toys. Squirting. P in V. Dirty talk. Use of pet names like: baby, good girl. Praise. Birth control is implied idk.
Tag list: @woohwachaos @mintyunho @nowornevermarie @dayho3 @hoofymalone @auxiny @daeteez @b-tangkitten
Namjoon was a pretty decent roommate. You had connected with him on Facebook while searching for somebody to move into your spare room in your apartment when your last roommate moved out unexpectedly. He was quick to take you up on the offer.
He kept things tidy, relatively quiet. He read a lot and liked to sing in the shower. Your schedules seem to be quite the opposite: while you were at work, he was home. And while you were home, he was out or hidden away in his room. Your interactions were always pleasant. He was a genuinely nice guy who even left you meals in the fridge if he had any food left over from his dinner. You didn’t know much about him: who his friends were, where or what he did for work, or even what his last name was but he paid rent on time and didn’t bring drama. That’s all you could ask for.
You sat in your shared living room watching tv, lounging and relaxing after work when Namjoon came out of his room with a frustrated look on his face. His fingers were furiously typing against his phone screen.
“Hey.” You greeted him. “Didn’t realize you were home.”
“Uh, yeah.” He said without looking up, still focused on whoever he was texting.
“Is everything okay?” You asked, never having seen him in any mood other than a pleasant one. He took a second to glance up at you, a fake and tight smile on his face.
“Yeah. All good.”
“Okay.” You shrug. “You just seem a little stressed out or something.”
“It’s just a work thing.” He said, brushing it off but this peaked your interest never hearing him mention anything about his work. Or much of anything really.
“Oh? Anything I can do to help?” You offered causing Namjoon to snicker a bit, a laugh that made you feel a bit insecure for some reason. Almost as if he was laughing at some sort of an inside joke. “What’s so funny?”
“I uh- I don’t think this is something you could help me with.” He said, plopping down on the couch beside you in a huff. This was the first time you had had a conversation this long, let alone sat so close together. It excited you a bit.
“Come on, I’m good at my job. I’m a supervisor. I manage a whole team. I’m sure I can help you out with whatever is going on.” You pushed. “What kind of work are you in?”
“Well,” he hesitated, “Im a content creator.. I guess you could say.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Maybe I’ve seen some of your work.” You said excitedly while taking your phone out. “What platforms are you on?”
“I definitely don’t think you’ve seen my content or I think we would have crossed that bridge by now.” He chuckled, a hint of a darker tone behind his words that you caught onto quickly.
“What? Am I crossing the line or something?” You ask, panicking a bit. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t gotten to know you so I guess I got a bit excited.”
“Well, although that’s very cute, I don’t know if this is something I’m ready to share with you.”
“Do you make cringey videos or something?” You chuckle but Namjoon didn’t laugh along with you.
“No.” He said, sighing deeply. “Definitely not cringey.”
“Okay, you kinda have to tell me now. I’m way too curious.” You pester, not allowing him to shy away from the topic. He groaned, running both his hands through his hair dramatically before finally giving you an inch.
“Do you promise not to judge me?”
“I promise.” You say, crossing your heart like a school-girl. “Cross my heart.”
“Oh god-okay.” Namjoon rolled his eyes at your cliche but continued. “I make content for Only Fans.”
“Wait, isn’t that.. the porn site?” You ask with a bit more emphasis on the word porn than Namjoon appreciated.
“You said you wouldn’t judge.”
“I’m not I’m just.. I guess I can’t really picture you doing.. that.” You said, your voice still full of judgment. Namjoon was admittedly very, very, attractive. But in more of a ‘hot teachers assistant’ way. He was tall, studious, and came off very private. You couldn’t imagine him filming himself and posting it for others to watch.
“You mean you don’t think I can fuck?” He said, snickering a bit.
“No! I mean, yes. Not that I’ve imagined you having sex. I haven’t. But I just didn’t take you as somebody who would, you know, record yourself doing that for money.” You said, a bit of panic in your voice. “There’s nothing wrong with that! Nothing wrong at all. I mean, you always pay rent on time so I don’t care.”
“Well, that’s kinda the problem.” He grumbled. “I was supposed to shoot a new video I promised my subscribers with this new amateur actress and she cancelled. My other creator friends are all unavailable so, I might be fucked out of rent this month.”
“Oh-uh.. I can see how that would be frustrating.” You say, not knowing the best way to comfort him in this scenario while also worrying about the other half of your apartments rent money in the back of your mind. “Can’t you just.. do something else?”
“My subscribers are waiting on a new video with a partner. If I post a solo video I’ll have to refund a whole bunch of subscriptions and I’ll be fucked. No pun intended.” He groaned.
“You really have enough subscribers to pay your rent every single month?” You say in complete shock, glazing over his entire issue.
“Yes.” He sighed. “For now.”
“Holy shit.” You mumble. “Well, do you have a backup plan?”
“No. Not unless you want to take one for the team and be in the video with me.” He said, laughing a bit.
“Oh, you’re hilarious.” You rolled your eyes.
“I’m joking. Plus, you’re a virgin right?”
“That’s fucking rude.” You scoff.
Namjoon’s eyes scanned you up and down, sizing you up. You suddenly felt a bit self conscious and covered yourself by crossing your arms.
“You know, maybe that’s not such a bad idea after all.” He lifted his finger to his lips like he was pondering a deep thought. “Yeah, that could totally work.”
“I’m lost. What are you going on about?”
“You should be in the video with me. If you want to, that is.” He said so casually you thought he was joking. You started to laugh, a small snort slipping out. When his face remained serious, your laughter cut off quickly.
“Wait- you’re not joking?”
“No. I have to pay rent somehow and you’re very pretty. I get tested for STD’s weekly and I’m clean.” He said very confidently. “Plus, I would do all the work. You wouldn’t have to worry about anything other than enjoying yourself.”
“I wouldn’t have to worry about anything? Of course I would. I’d be on camera!” You balked. “There’s like a million things I would have to worry about.”
“My content very much surrounds the pleasure of my viewer and the person I make content with if I do a video with somebody.” He put it simply. “I don’t expect you to do anything too performative. We can talk about what you like and dislike but, really, all you have to do is allow me to give you multiple orgasms for my own pleasure and yours.”
“Oh please.” You scoff, not believing a second of it. “I’ve seen porn before. It’s 90% blowjob followed by 3 pumps and a fake orgasm.”
“That’s porn made in a studio for men by men. I make porn for everyone but, mainly women. The majority of my subscribers are either women or people who identify as queer.” He explained. “Plus, I get off by getting people off.”
Although the idea was insane, his words admittedly made butterflies flutter around in your stomach.
“I don’t know.” You said, still not fully believing what he was saying. “I also don’t know how I feel about being recorded. What if people recognize me?”
“I can blur your face if you like.” He shrugged, unbothered. “I’m able to work with you to make you as comfortable as possible. We don’t even have to have sex if you don’t want you. You can just lay back and let me take make you cum a few times with my hands. My mouth. Maybe a toy if you have one..”
He trailed off, allowing you to envision the experience. You felt heat rush to your cheeks as well as between your thighs, although it made you feel a bit embarrassed. Your eyes glanced down to his hand. His fingers were long and almost delicate that suggested hidden skills and an expert touch. As your eyes traveled farther, you noticed he was hard. His bulge pressing up into his jeans in a size that was impossible to ignore.
“Oh.” You slipped without thinking, your eyes snapping away quickly. You had to fight hard not to look back down.
“Sorry.” He apologized, a smirk on his lips. “Like I said, I get off to getting others off. Even thinking about getting you off is enough to turn me on.”
You unintentionally pressed your thighs together which Namjoon noticed, satisfied. He knew he was having some sort of effect on you. Good or bad, he didn’t quite know.
“What are you thinking? Is this too much all at once?” He asked, his voice soothing.
“I still don’t know Namjoon.” You mumble. “I’m just.. nervous. About a lot. I’m not sure what to think about all this still.”
“I understand.” He nodded and stood up from his spot on the couch. “How about you sleep on it? Let me know tomorrow.”
You nodded, giving him a tight smile. He walked over to his bedroom door. But, before going inside he told you one more thing.
“Runch Randa.” He said, not elaborating.
“What?” You asked him, completely confused.
“My Only Fans name. Runch Randa.” Namjoon repeated. “In case you need to do some research.”
Namjoon slipped into his room without another word, leaving you with a peculiar decision to make by morning.
———————————————
You were still tossing and turning at midnight. Namjoon’s words repeating themselves over and over again in your mind. Should you or shouldn’t you? You thought to yourself. It would be easy to say no and help him cover rent this month. Secretly look for a backup roommate just in case this happens again. But truthfully, the thought about saying no disappointed you a bit. Not because you wanted to be on camera and wanted to sell sex with your roommate. But because Namjoon made sex with him sound so intriguing. And he must be good at it, right? If he was good enough to make money off of selling his sex it must be?
You wanted to call a friend and talk to them. Ask them what you should do but, you couldn’t. You didn’t want them to judge your roommate or you if you went through with it. Or worse, watch the video if you did. So instead, you opened the web browser on your phone and search his username. ‘Runch Randa.’
“Such an unsexy name for a sexy man.” You mumbled to yourself, and then clicked on his profile. He had a decent amount of subscribers. Not a crazy amount but, for his subscription cost, definitely enough where he could support himself with some change left over. His account was subscription protected but, thankfully, his account offered a 24 hour subscriber trial. All you had do to was create an account.
Once signed up, you scrolled through his long list of videos that he had sorted by categories. You first started in his “Solo” playlist. The thumbnail of the first video made your jaw practically hit the floor. It was Namjoon sat on a chair, only his torso shown, with his fist at the base of his thick cock.
You slapped your phone down on your chest and took a deep breath, completely freaked out by the fact that you had just seen your roommates dick. But, more importantly, that it looked like that. After taking a deep breath, you lifted your phone again and found enough bravery to press the play button.
The video was simple, one of the first he ever posted based on the date. Over a year ago. You watched with cheeks burning as his hand slowly stroked himself up and down, his wrist twisting each time he got to his head. Your eyes followed every movement, the time passing as if you were entranced. Suddenly, without warning, a soft moan left your phone speakers. You closed the video quickly, your heart racing along with a new pulse between your thighs. A new excitement bubbling. Before opening your phone again, you made sure to grab your headphones to enjoy Namjoon’s noises with more privacy.
You scrolled through more of his Solo playlist and found he had gotten more adventurous, using masturbator toys and even touching himself from behind as he grew more confident in front of the camera. You noticed about 6 months into his career he started to show his face, and enjoyed watching how his jaw would go slack whenever he would do something to himself that felt really good and how he would curse and clench his jaw when he came really hard. Before long, you had to come to terms with the fact you were wet from watching him.
You moved on and saw another category: “Partners” and was pleasantly surprised to find not just women, but very attractive men featured in the videos as well. There were few, seemingly new to his career. He must have only just started collaborating with other sex workers recently. You clicked on one with a pretty man with long blonde hair that was pulled into a ponytail. He was shorter than Namjoon and had a tattoo on his ribcage but also one down his spine that was very nicely on display when Namjoon bent him over.
His needy whimpers made your entire body feel hot. Too hot. You quickly clicked out and went to another video. You found one of Namjoon with a female creator. She was beautiful, of course. And Namjoon had pulled her over his face, making her sit right on top of him. You watched in awe as she quivered and twitched above him, whimpering as devoured her from down below. Even muffled by her thighs, you could still hear the audio of his lips sucking on her click and tongue licking up her arousal. His hands planted firmly on her thighs so she would not squirm away. Her moans were so pornographic it almost made you jealous. Almost. Overall, you were just incredibly turned on.
The pulse between your legs was impossible to ignore now, your panties now soaked from watching your roommate eat this girl alive. As you watch her cum on his tongue, convulsing above him as he held her steady until she came down from her high, you decided you couldn’t fight it any longer. Opening the drawer in your bedside table, you pulled out your vibrator and pushed it under your panties.
You went back to a video you had scrolled by previously, a solo video. You pressed play and watched as Namjoon stroked himself, one hand firmly at his base while the other focused on stroking his swollen cockhead. He was leaking precum, his deep voice dribbling out nonsense. You clicked the first speed on your vibrator, a small gasp slipping through your lips as the sensation hit your engorged clit.
“Fuck baby, you look so pretty playing with yourself for me.” He said, his voice deeper than normal. Your heart raced as if he could actually see you but, this only made it that much more exciting. You found yourself settling down in your bed further, spreading your legs into a wider butterfly position. The fabric of your panties tightening against you as you spread your legs that pushed your toy even harder into you.
“Are you making yourself feel good for me? Such a good girl.” His honey voice cooed in your headphones. Without realizing, a small whimper slipped out of your lips. You tried your best to control yourself, biting down on your bottom lip as you continued to watch. You started to move your vibrator in circular motions against yourself, matching the pace that Namjoon was using to stroke himself. It didn’t take long for the heat of an approaching climax to start to build.
“Are you going to cum for me? Hmm?” He grunted, the speed of his fist picking up speed, his wrist twisting and milking him harder. “Going to be a good girl and cum for me?”
You found yourself nodding pathetically as if he could see you. Your hips bucking up into your toy, pressing up into it hard, wanting more. You clicked the power one more time, upping the speed. You were right there, on the brink.
“Fuck- that’s it baby. Cum with me.” Namjoon grunted. And you watched as his eyes fluttered shut and his hips twitched as he pumped himself empty into his hand. The sight on the screen making you go over the edge, cumming hard against your toy. A small moan escaping your throat before you could stop yourself.
When your orgasm subsided, you pulled off your completely ruined panties, the apex of your thighs still pulsing with the aftershocks of your climax. You knew for certain now you were definitely interested in sleeping with Namjoon. That was fact. But being on camera? That was a component you weren’t sure about yet. Namjoon said he could blur your face which took care of that but, the worry still was in the back of your head. There were so many angles, so many things others could notice about you that you didn’t want them to. What if you sounded weird? Your stomach bunched up in a weird way? Did you have a strange looking vagina or weird shaped nipples? Did Namjoon even want to sleep with you? Or was he just desperate to make content?
“Ugh..” you groaned, throwing your arms above your face, sleepiness catching up to you. You decided to make up your mind in the morning.
————————————————
You were eating a piece of toast when Namjoon emerged from his room.
“Morning.” He greeted you, a hint of a smile on his face.
“Morning.” You felt your cheeks get warm instantly. “There’s coffee in the coffee maker if you want some.”
“Thanks.” He said and walked over to pour himself a cup. Black, no sugar or milk. “So, did you enjoy your research last night?”
You cough, choking on your bite of food which made Namjoon laugh.
“I get a notification every time somebody subscribes. Even if it’s with the free trial. Maybe using your first name in your username isn’t the best idea in this scenario.” He explained with a cocky grin.
“Oh, I see.” You said sheepishly, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Did you like what you watched?” He persisted, taking another sip of his drink.
“I uh, didn’t watch anything. I just scrolled really.” You lied very unconvincingly.
“You know, these walls are very thin.” He explained, using his finger to tap against the eggshell white paint of the kitchen. “Any little sound, or buzzing noise, can be heard very well. So let’s try answering that question again.”
“God- please spare me.” You grown, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry, I’m being mean. I just like to tease.” He chuckled. “But, I take it you enjoyed what you saw?”
You adverted your eyes completely and couldn’t bear to look at him however, the familiar pulse between your thighs returned at the memory and also his forward words. He was still patiently waiting for an answer and you knew he wouldn’t drop this topic without one.
“Yes.” You mumbled shyly.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Namjoon reassured you. “That just means I’m doing my job well. I take it as the highest compliment. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
You smiled softly and gave him a shy nod, finally meeting his eyes. You finished your toast and he finished his coffee in silence before he finally spoke again.
“Have you given any more thought to helping me out today?” He asked the million dollar question. Well, more like the $1500 question.
“Yes, I have.”
“Have you decided? Or are you still unsure?” Namjoon persisted, still remaining composed and polite. He leaned against the kitchen counter. You couldn’t help but stare at the way his shirt hugged his pecks as he leaned back against the granite, making your mouth go a bit dry.
“I uh- I’m still a bit unsure of some things.” You said with a weak voice since he had stolen your breath just simply by existing. He nodded and thought for a moment before continuing.
“Well, tell me what you’re sure of and then we can go from there.”
“Oh. Well.. you’re very attractive.” You admitted which made him smile a genuine smile. His dimple showing deep in his cheek. “Very, very attractive. It seemed like you know what you’re doing and are good what you do. And I’d like to sleep with you.”
“Okay.” He said, his head cocking to the side with his eyebrow raised. “It sounds like that’s all we really need. So, I guess I’m a bit confused on what’s holding us back here.”
“I just- what if people don’t like how I look? What if after all of this you still have to refund people anyway because you slept with somebody who looks like me? I mean, do you event want to sleep with me? If you didn’t have to make this video would you have ever pursued me? Because you’ve never tried.”
“I got hard just thinking about getting you off.” He said simply. “I got off last night listening to you get off. Just knowing you were watching my videos drove me crazy. Of course I want to fuck you.”
“You got off to me?” You ask him with surprise.
“Yes. And the only reason why I haven’t tried sleeping with you before is because you’re my roommate and in the past that.. complicated things. I didn’t want drama. But I can’t deny that I’ve thought about it. Many times.”
“So, you do think I’m attractive?”
“Yes. Very much so. And so will my subscribers but, that’s not the point. I just want to make you feel good and I know I can. If you are so gracious to let me.” Namjoon pushed himself off the counter and walked over to you. He took his hand and grabbed your chin gently, lifting your face up to look at him. Your lips trembled and your heart raced. “I want to make you cum. Over and over. You won’t see the camera and I’ll make sure of that. It will just be us.”
“C-can you blur my face?” You whispered, your voice shaking.
“Yes. Anything you need to make you feel comfortable.”
“Then.. okay. I’ll be in the video.” You tell him, agreeing to his proposition.
“Good girl.” He smirked and then pulled away from you. “I promise you won’t regret it.”
You finally took a breath, realizing you had been holding it for some time. Your head was spinning slightly but you had to focus as you had more questions to answer.
“I need to know what you’re comfortable with. What you like.”
“Hmm? Oh- I’m sure anything is fine.”
“No. I need direct answers.” He said very seriously. “This is sex but this is also my work. I need to be professional and make sure you’re not uncomfortable. Are you okay with kissing on the lips?”
“People have been not okay with that?” You ask him in shock, wondering how you could enjoy sex without doing such a thing.
“Different people have different boundaries. Especially if the person who creates this sort of content has a significant other outside of this line of work.” He explained. “So, I take that as a yes?”
“Yes. I’m okay with kissing.” You told him with butterflies in your stomach.
“Okay. Can I touch your breasts? Do you like nipple okay?” He asks it so casually you had to repeat the question to yourself in your head a few times before answering.
“Yeah.” You mumble. “I do.”
“Good.” He pursed his lips, thinking. Mapping out the video in his head. “Am I allowed to finger you? Go down on you, if you’re comfortable enough?”
“Yes.” You gulped. Your mouth felt dry again, as if he had stolen every drop of moisture from your body and sent it pooling down between your thighs.
“What about toys? Can I use one on you?” You could see him getting hard in his pajama pants at the thought. It made you press your thighs together just at the sight of his bulge, especially knowing now just what he was hiding under the fabric.
“I think you’re going to kill me but, yes.” You told him which made him laugh darkly.
“I’m going to push your limits for sure.” He admitted. “But that’s all the fun. I want you to feel pure bliss. I’ve already made you cum once.”
“That doesn’t count.” You argued, your cheeks burning.
“Oh yes, it does. And I’m going to make sure there’s plenty more where that came from.” He said, grabbing his cock in his hand through his pants. “Can I fuck you?”
“Yes. I really want you to do that.”
“Noted.” He almost laughed at your expression of pure lust, feeling flattered. “What about anal? Can I eat your ass?”
“Oh, uh. I don’t know- I’ve never really..” you started to feel a bit nervous and unsure. Maybe even a bit scared which he picked up on instantly.
“Don’t worry. We won’t do anything like that today. Is there anything else I should know before I go set up and shower?” He asked you and you thought long and hard but shook your head no.
“Okay. Give me two hours and knock on my door. I’d say wear something cute but, it will come off regardless.” He smirked. “See you soon baby. I’m looking forward to it.”
————————————————
The hours flew by as you rushed to prepare for your on-camera “debut”. You made sure to scrub your whole body, shave it nice and bare, and did your makeup to perfection. You knew exactly what you would wear: a matching sheer black lace panty and bra set that left little to the imagination. You tossed an oversized shirt over yourself to conceal your undergarments that fit you almost like a dress, not wanting to come off too strong and show up at Namjoon’s door half naked.
Your heart pounded as you made your way to his room. You were both anxious and terrified to experience what waited for you on the other side of his door. You took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the doorframe. Moments later, it opened and Namjoon was there to greet you. His frame feeling even taller than normal, towering over you.
“Hi beautiful.” He said warmly. “Are you ready?”
He was shirtless, wearing nothing but loosely fitted grey sweatpants that hung off his waist. A silver chain around his neck. He looked divine.
You smiled shyly and nodded. He smiled back and lifted his hand to caress your cheek, trying to calm you.
“We can stop at any time. Okay?”
“I know.” You told him.
“I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make you feel amazing.” He told you, reaching for your hand and leading you into his room. You stepped in slowly and glanced around, trying your best to not be obvious as you searched for the video camera. You thought you would see a tripod, a camcorder, something technical. Instead all you saw was a plush king size bed, a bookcase on the wall overfilled with books that seemed to be one title away from collapsing, and a window filled with plants that had leaves cascading to the floor. His room was inviting and cozy. Comfortable.
“Not what you expected?” He asked, catching your eyes wandering.
“Did you not set up yet?” You asked him.
“I told you, you won’t see the cameras. But they’re here. They’re recording. I’ll show you where after. Right now, it’s just me and you.” Namjoon reassured you and pulled you close to him. He lifted your chin up, leaving your lips inches from his. You could smell his minty breath against your face, coaxing you in.
“Are you sure you still want to do this?” He whispered against your lips.
“Yes.” You told him. “I want you.”
“Good.”
Namjoon pressed his lips against yours softly, allowing the kiss to become deeper as you melted against his chest. He wrapped his arms around your waist, allowing his hands to slide down over the curve of your back and over your ass. He smirked into the kiss when he found you opted to not wear shorts under your oversized shirt, and was instead wearing a pair of panties when his hands cupped your cheeks. When you felt his large hands squeeze your behind you couldn’t help but whimper into the kiss you were sharing.
You wrapped your arms around Namjoon’s neck and he lifted you up off the ground and wrapping your legs around his waist to carry you to his bed. He sat down on the edge with you on his lap straddling him. You both made out for a few minutes, getting familiar with each other until Namjoon started to play with the hem of your shirt.
“Can I take this off of you.” He asked you, nipping at your bottom lip. You nodded shyly and raised your arms for him to take it off and enjoyed the look on his face when he saw you clad in your lacy black set.
“Jesus Christ you were hiding that this whole time?”
Namjoon kissed down your neck slowly, placing open mouth kisses on your throat and collar bone until he reached the top of your bra. Using his hands, he gripped the top of each cup and pulled them down, allowing each of your breasts to spill out in front of him.
“Shit.” He sucked in a breath at the sight before him, relishing in it. “So fucking beautiful.”
He grabbed one breast in his hand, using two of his fingers to pinch at your hardened nipple. He tweaked and twisted it, the sensation shooting down between your thighs instantly. While he continued to toy with that nipple, he wrapped his plump lips around the other. He sucked on it gently while keeping his eyes on you, enjoying how your eyes fluttered each time the tip of his tongue flicked across the tip of your hardened bud.
You started to grind down against him. You could feel how hard he was against you, somehow growing harder and harder than he already was. His cock pressing up just right against you, his head pressing up into your clit. The friction felt amazing and soon you had soaked through your own panties, leaving a wet mark on his sweats. But you didn’t care. It felt too good.
“Mmm.” You moaned, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Your hips starting to pick up speed as you chased the growing burn between your thighs.
“Does it feel good baby?” Namjoon said, pulling his lips off your now puffy nipple. You nod frantically while your hips still rock against him. “Such a good girl for me.”
He placed his lips back on your nipple and continued his sensual torture. While he did so, down below, Namjoon made sure to buck his hips up to meet your movements which made the friction so much more precise and intense. After a few more minutes of this, you felt a familiar intensity building between your thighs. Your hips started to twitch and your movements became more desperate, breathing more shallow and rapid.
“Joon-“ you were going to warn him but he placed his lips next to your ear and shushed you quietly.
“Be careful pretty.” He whispered almost too quietly. “Don’t use my name. They don’t know my real identity.”
“S-sorry.” You mumbled and he pressed a warm kiss to the base of your jaw to silently accept your apology.
“Are you going to cum grinding on my cock baby?” He purred in your ear in a tone that made your head spin.
“Please.” You begged, your hips moving faster. Your pelvis pushing against his bulge even harder. “Please, can I?”
“I’m here to please you baby.” He told you, his fingers pulling a bit harder on your nipple. “Now be a good girl and cum for me.”
After a few more swings of your hips, you had your first orgasm. Namjoon held you tight against him while your body twitched and you shyly whined into his shoulder as you creamed in your panties. It was not earth shattering by any means, having been over clothing and not by Namjoon’s own hand but, felt so fucking good regardless.
“You make such cute noises.” He told you, nuzzling into your neck as you came down from your high. “I need to hear more. Lay down for me.”
He stood up, taking you with him and gently laid you down on the duvet with your legs still dangling off the edge. Namjoon placed his hands gently on your thighs and dragged them slowly upwards until his fingers reached the waistband of your panties. His eyes looked up and found yours, waiting for you to give him permission. With a small nod of your head, he wrapped his fingers around the fabric and slowly dragged the black lace downward. You lifted yourself upwards to help him shimmy them off. As you did, you could feel the cold air hit your wet core that was covered in the remnants of your orgasm.
Once the fabric was off your body, Namjoon dropped it into a heap on the floor next to your shirt. You felt a bit shy and clamped your legs shut tight. You peered up at him through your lashes waiting for him to make his next move.
“Can I see?” He asked you with his hands placed on your knees again, his voice low.
You slowly parted your thighs for him and he watched as you opened up like a flower. Your folds glistening in your arousal, clit plump and still tingling. He thought he could cum just from looking at you.
“My god. Fuck.” He said, suddenly dropping to his knees to get a better look. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed which made you yelp a bit in surprise. He chuckled and placed a heavy kiss to your inner thigh and continued, getting closer and closer to your heat. You started to squirm as the anticipation was building. Not knowing if the next time his lips met your skin he would place them where you desperately wanted him most. But he was teasing now, nipping at your skin of your opposite thigh and you were getting impatient. Your hand reaching down for his hair and giving it a weak tug.
“So impatient.” He chuckled darkly. “Am I taking too long, baby?”
“You’re driving me insane.” You whine pathetically.
“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I do really want a taste of you.” He smirked. “You want me to eat your pussy pretty girl?”
“Fuck- please!” You groaned in frustration again.
“Since you asked so nicely.”
Namjoon put his hands behind your knees and pushed your thighs back and apart towards your chest, leaving your pussy completely open and exposed to him. He dipped his head down and licked a heavy strip from the opening of your cunt to your clit, savoring every drop of your juices. His lips stopping to encircle your clit and suck on the swollen nub, his tongue massaging the tip slowly as he did so. Your back arched off the bed the second his tongue touched you with curses falling from your lips.
Namjoon took his time with you. His lips and tongue worked against your cunt slowly but with expertise, almost as if he was making out with it. The pleasure was almost excruciating and you desperately needed more. You grabbed onto the back of his head and laced your hands into his hair and pulled him forward into your pussy, burring him deeper. He hummed out a chuckle, the vibrations feeling immaculate, and you tried grinding against his face.
“Am I not satisfying you baby?” He pulled away to ask you, his lips and chin glistening in your slick with a mischievous smirk on his face. He was doing this on purpose.
“You are. You’re so fucking good. I just need more of you.” You beg him. “Please give me more.”
“Do you want..” he started to say while slowly bringing a finger up to tease your entrance to circle your dripping hole. “..to feel my fingers?”
You answered him only with a moan, unable to form actual words. He smirked and pressed two fingers against your entrance to gently push inside. You gasped as you felt the length of his long digits twist up inside of you, curving against the contours of your body perfectly. He watched and obsessed over the view of your pussy swallowing each inch of his fingers and how you clenched around them so beautifully each time he dragged them out slowly and pushed them back in with delicious force. His dick throbbed in his pants, leaking into his sweats.
When he felt you start to tighten more around him, he bent back down and reattached his tongue to your clit once again to lap at the sensitive bundle as he worked your cunt from below. The double pleasure made your eyes roll back into your head and jaw fall open in a silent cry with only a broken gasp managing to escape your throat. You felt your second orgasm approaching and approaching fast.
“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” You chanted mindlessly, completely lost in the pleasure. Within seconds your walls clamped down around Namjoon’s fingers as you came dramatically around them and on his tongue, your legs dropping down around his neck like a vice grip and held him to your pussy where he graciously licked your cunt until you finished cumming.
When your legs finally relaxed and let go, he pulled away gasping for air. His face was plastered with a triumphant, wet, grin as he looked down at you completely collapsed into jelly on the bed.
“I hope you’re not tired yet baby. I still want to play with you.” He said and walked over to grab something from his nightstand. In his hand was dildo. Shiny and new. “I bought this just for you.”
He pressed the tip in-between your folds and dragged it up, rubbing the tip of the toy against your clit. You sucked in a breath bucked your hips the second it touched your swollen bundle of nerves.
“Still sensitive baby?” He asked you then tapped the toy a few times against your pussy which made your hips buck and you whimper.
“Yes but it f-feels so f-fucking good.” You say as your voice trembled.
“That’s my good girl.” He cooed at you while rubbing the toy between your folds as you squirmed against it. “If you want to take my cock you gotta show me how good you can take this one. Can you do that?”
“Yes. Yes, I can take it.” You practically begged. He smiled and leaned down onto the bed to hover over you to give you a deep kiss.
“I knew you would.”
Namjoon pressed the tip of the toy to your entrance and eased it inside of you one inch at a time. It slid into you easily and made your eyelids flutter as the girth filled you. Your walls clamped down around the silicone and started to pulsate due to the overstimulation and for a moment you swore you could have came just from having it pushed inside.
“You look so fucking sexy right now.” He whispered in your ear. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”
He started to slowly pull the toy out of your cunt and, just as the tip almost made its way completely out of you, plunged the entire length of the toy back inside. The noise you made in response was nothing short of pornographic. He did it again, and again, picking up speed each time until he was ruthlessly fucking you with the toy while you could do nothing but relish in the building hot pleasure.
“You’re making quite the mess.” He teased, but his wrist did not slow as he relished in the sounds of your cries and the sounds he was pulling from your cunt. His eyes fixating down between your thighs where the colorful silicone slipped in and out of your swollen and sensitive folds that seem to be opening up more and more like a flower. He shifted on the bed once more and, without missing a beat, brought his free hand down between your thighs and started to use his thumb to rub heavy circles against your clit while still fucking you on his toy. The sensation was intense.
“Shit!” You screamed. “It’s so much.”
“But look how pretty your pussy looks being played with? It loves it. It wants to cum again.” He cooed. “Give me another.”
He switched from rubbing your clit with his thumb to his pointer and middle finger, rubbing it back and forth at a quick pace. The speed, mixed with the toy rubbing against your g-spot, had your third climax on the brink but this time it was different. It had only happened once, a long time ago while you were by yourself, and you didn’t think it would ever happen again. And you were afraid right now would be the time.
“W-wait, it’s too much-“ you tried warning him. “I think, I think I might-“
“Come on baby.” He said through gritted teeth, his fingers and wrist still working against you. “Don’t hold back. Fucking cum for me.”
You orgasmed again, this time your climax gushing out of your cunt and onto the duvet.
“Holy shit.” Namjoon said in shock. “Did you just squirt for me?”
“I tried to warn you.” You gasped, completely breathless. “I’m sorry.”
“Fuck- don’t be sorry. Just do it again.” He growled placed his fingers back against your clit once again, rubbing them back and forth quickly against the red and swollen nub. You screamed and came again instantly, squirting again all over him. “Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun.”
You laid down, body convulsing in orgasm aftershocks while Namjoon stood up to drop his sweats. His rock-hard cock released from the waistband, his cockhead dripping in pre-cum from all the anticipation. He took his hand and collected the arousal and used it to pump his length a few times as he watched you lay before him in your glistening mess until you had collected yourself.
Watching him jerk off his big length brought you back to watching him for the first time on screen. It reminded you how bad you wanted him instantly, making up your mind in that exact moment that you needed him no matter what. Needed his cock. It made your mouth water.
“Can I suck your cock, baby?” You ask him, licking your lips. “Please.”
“No need baby. This is all about your pleasure.” He told you sweetly.
“I know. That’s why I want to.” You purred at him, twisting around on the bed and getting on your knees to crawl over to him. Your sudden forwardness exciting him, intriguing him. “Sucking your cock is for my pleasure.”
“Then I can’t say no to that, can I?” He said, placing his hand against your cheek and slowly lowering your face down to his cock.
You gripped the base of his shaft with one hand and stroked him at a slow pace, twisting your wrist as you worked him up and down. You put your lips on him, placing his head into your lips softly. You sucked on the tip gently as your wrist worked his shaft. Periodically, dipping your head down to take the entirety of his length into your throat until you felt him hit the back of it.
“Jesus-fuck.” Namjoon cursed under his breath as he took in the sight of you. He couldn’t believe how filthy you were, impressed with your skill. “You look so fucking pretty with my cock down your throat.”
You enjoyed working his length, savoring him and the grunts and groans he let out as you did so. Your pussy began to throb for him again between your thighs as you continued which you let him know by moaning as you sucked him, making vibrations run up his dick. You were working him so well, too well, and he had to stop you. He gently pulled you up and off of him, planting a hot kiss onto your messy lips before letting you go again.
“You did such a good job for me. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” He asked you. “Do you want me to fuck you now, baby?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Namjoon pulled you forward and spread your thighs, settling between them. He lined himself up with your entrance and teased his head against your hole, running circles around it before pressing forward into you. You gasped feeling his girth spread you open and your back arched off the bed as you received him, your legs circling around his hips.
Namjoon leaned over you and placed his forehead against yours, wanting to be close. You felt his cock deep inside of you and he could feel your walls pulsing around his hard length. When he finally started to move, he used deep and slow strokes, ones that had his pelvis grinding hard against your clit each time he rolled his hips. The technique and feeling was beyond anything you had ever experienced with any other partner you had slept with. It was fucking heavenly.
“Holy shit.. Joon..” you moaned, forgetting the rule about not being able to say his name. He didn’t panic quite yet, knowing he could manage a few edits here as long as it wasn’t that noticeable.
“Do you like my cock baby?” He whispered into your ear, only for you to hear and not the camera this time. Truly enjoying fucking you.
“Fuck yes.” You practically cried as he continued to roll his hips deeply into you. “Your cock is so fucking perfect.”
Between his deep strokes and the friction of his pelvis against your clit, it wasn’t long before you started to cum again. Your walls clamping down around his cock and almost taking him with you before he was ready to.
“You didn’t squirt for me? That just won’t do.” He tsked and walked over to his side drawer to pull out his secret weapon: a magic wand vibrator. You almost ran out of the room when you saw it.
“Please- I don’t know if I can.” You told him weakly, holding up your hands in defense.
“Of course you can baby.” He said, pressing the bulbous end of the wand into your puffy clit. “I know you can.”
He pressed the on button and brought the toy to life. The lowest setting was already so powerful and had your body practically levitating off the bed. Namjoon pressed down on your pelvis to keep you on the mattress and slipped his cock back into your cunt, making you scream out in ecstasy. He wasted no time fucking into you. It wasn’t slow or romantic. This was pure fucking and his goal was to make you completely break this time. Reach pure bliss.
“Fuck! Joon! Oh my god! Joon, please!” You begged for something you weren’t even sure you were ready for. “Please Joon give it to me!”
He pressed a button on the wand one more time and made the speed go one level higher. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your hips lifted off the bed completely as you felt the pleasure take over you, Namjoon never ceasing his thrusts. You felt your cheeks start to burn and lips quiver. Your vision began to blur.
“Joon, I’m gonna cum-“ you gasped in broken breaths.
“Cum.” He ordered you, pressing the wand into your clit as hard as he could and hitting the speed button one last time to take you to the third and most intense speed.
You came dramatically, gushing all over Namjoon’s cock and abdomen. Namjoon continued to fuck you, enjoying the view of you spraying your orgasm all over each time he pulled out of you and pushed back in. This continued until he finally came himself, filling you up and collapsing on top of you.
You both laid wrapped in each others arms with chests heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Namjoon stroked your hair, brushing it carefully from your face and placing a careful kiss against your temple.
“Are you okay? Do you need water?” He asked you gently.
“I will in a little. Right now I just need to lay here.” You told him, feeling much too exhausted to even sit up in that moment.
“Thank god because I’m tired too.” He laughed which you couldn’t help but join in as well. “Did you enjoy that?”
“It was.. beyond.” You shook your head in disbelief. “You’re really good at what you do.”
“So you don’t regret it?” He asked you with a tone of hopefulness.
“Namjoon you just made me cum like, what, five times?”
“Six.” He corrected you.
“Six. So, no. I wouldn’t say I regret anything.” You giggle. “Did you enjoy it, at least?”
“Yes. Fuck, yes I did. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a session that much before.” He admitted to you with a smile on his face.
“Good. Speaking of which. Where are the cameras?” You asked him, looking around the room.
“Ah so-“ he said, raising his hand to point just before you at the bookcase that stood in front of his bed. “In between those two books on the middle shelf is one of my cameras. Tiny right? And then-“
You followed his finger over to the window where he kept all his plants and saw, tucked away between lush green, another camera.
“And then one more.” He said, pointing above you both to find a small camera secured to one of the blades of his ceiling fans that almost camouflaged into the color of the wooden blade.
“Wow, you really got all the angles didn’t you?” You told him, giggling.
“Yes. I have my editing cut out for me.” He chuckled. “I just hope me muting you screaming my name doesn’t make the footage too unwatchable or else.. we may have to reshoot.”
“Oh-shit. I’m so sorry.” You felt terrible, and a bit embarrassed. “I got so lost in it.”
“I’m only kidding. I’m just looking for some sort of excuse to sleep with you again.”
“Namjoon-“ you started to tell him, voice serious. “-if you think you can fuck me like that and I’m not going to come back for more, you’ve lost your mind. I’ll be in any video you want me to be in if you fuck me like that each time.”
Namjoon threw his head back in laugher and pulled you to his chest tightly.
“I definitely think we could make some good money making videos together yes but, I’d also like to fuck you not on camera. If you’re interested, that is.” He told you, his voice soft for words so suggestive. “Maybe we could even grab dinner sometime.”
“I’d love to.” You felt as if your heart could burst.
“Great.” He smiled widely and helped you sit up, your head still spinning a bit. “I’m going to order us some food and I need to edit this footage so I don’t miss my deadline. Do you want to help me?”
“Help you? I’m no help with editing?”
“Maybe not.” He shrugged but a hint of a smirk reached his lips. “But I might need help with my breaks since, you know, I’m going to get all worked up re-watching us fuck again.”
“Now that.. that I can help with.”
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PHEWWWWW THIS TO ME 7 DAYS TO WRITE YALL. I really hope you enjoyed!
