[Disclaimer]: What is currently on this list is all that I have written so far. More is to come <3. The list is organized in order from oldest to newest.
One question though...do you think they reunite..in like..heaven and live for eternity and happily?
What do you think Jungkooks reaction would be to seeing her again in heaven?
First off, I'm so sorry this took so long to answer..this past year has been extremely busy for me 😓😓
Anyway, I don't think I can determine the answer to that question 🤔. I guess it depends on the reader's beliefs, in a way. Whether that be religious or not. I'd like to think their souls are connected in life and death somehow, though :)
Thank you so much for reading! I'm glad you liked it 🥺❤️
Oh, you definitely chose my most favourite heart-breaking songs for fic when she loved me. 😭 Truly coincidental, but I gotta tell ya, When she loved me is so underrated, but it's so good, but it also hurts. Basically one of my childhood song, but it feels different now that someone recognizes it, you btw. And the singer is to be blame why the song is still stuck in my head, in no rush forgetting. Her voice, like she's crying too. And Jessie in that scene?! Please, it was devastating, I cried for her when I was a kid. "You never forget kids like Emily, or Andy... but they forget you." 😭 Oh and Up theme song? I don't know the songs name but I know my shit. Not underrated, but of course, no one can argue that everybody cried for Carl and Ellie. No matter how buff and tough y'all are. AND THAT'S OBVIOUSLY JUNGKOOK AND Y/N. They 100% represent them, hard. Hope Jungkook heals. Hope we all heal. Hope you heal.
Hii! I'm so glad you felt the same connection to the songs as I did. Both songs tear me apart 😭 I truly cannot listen to these songs often as they just make me sad lol. I hope we all heal 🥲. Thank you for the read 😭
hey idk if you remember this but i told you a while ago i wanted to write a poem abt when she loved me even tho ik 0 shit abt poetry
composed this in october but i was nervous to share it😭
Oh. Mygod.
I am SOBBING.
This honestly was so perfect, I am so touched. There aren't words I can come up with for how amazing this is. Truly, thank you. Your poetry carries so much feeling, thank you so much for sharing this with me!!! I can tell you put a lot of feeling and thought into this. I'm so glad my story has sparked such an amazing mind to create this poem. I feel like your work can touch the hearts of those who haven't even read the story, it is just that touching.
Thank you again, I'm so glad you decided to share this with me. Please, don't stop being the amazing person you are! <3333
[Summary]: You know Taehyung is the one. You knew it since the first day you saw him, when thunder rolled through the sky. But your lives don't collide. They might be too different to choose both.
[Theme]: Rich Reader, Law Student Reader, Construction Worker TH, Poor TH, Rich Girl Poor Boy AU
[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes, sexual content, unprotected sex, kissing, making out, marking, angst, familial separation, topics of class, and triggering opinions of some characters
[Word Count]: 8,296
[A/N]: First TH fic!! I hope it is enjoyable~ This might be my last fic for a little bit. Going to be focusing on school and working really hard until the summertime :)
People say that when you fall in love, your life develops new meaning. They say that your life changes as you fall, and you watch it spiral out of your control over a silly feeling you can’t help.
You can say that the people, whoever they may be, are correct. Love happened to you quite unexpectedly, and completely out of the box you put your goals for the future inside.
Taehyung happened during the city's worst monsoon season in over 50 years. His rain-stained jeans and dirty white construction t-shirt clung to his skin, showing you all of his tanned glory as the rain fell angrily. You stood on the top step of your sister’s corporate building, looking down at him three steps below you.
“You got a spare umbrella, by chance?” he asked you. Caramel-colored, wet hair covered his forehead. But you could still see the discomfort in his eyes due to the harsh rain.
Looking at your own umbrella in your grip, you shook your head, telling him that this was your only one.
“You know a place around here where I can find one?” he asked.
“I’m not familiar with the area,” you explained.
“Me neither,” he smiled as he looked down at his red Converse.
There was an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You felt bad for the guy, clearly well-underprepared for the season. Your designer coat and accessories terribly clashed with his, an obvious difference in class confronted you in the face. There was a feeling of fear, you remember. Back then, you used to be one of those people who thought terribly of people like him. Thinking that he’d ask for your Burberry umbrella and never return it. You thought maybe he’d pull you aside and forcibly rob you of your money just because his shirt had a few stains and the brand name of the city’s lower-end construction company was written on the fabric. You associated him with the worst of the worst, just because of his class. Or rather, assumed class.
But those eyes captured your soul. They were warm, and his smile sent medicine to your heart, healing all those presumed thoughts and replacing them with the benefit of the doubt.
“I think there is a 7/11 around the block,” you recalled from your memory.
Thunder rolled through the city skies, and you clutched your umbrella harder. You never liked thunderstorms. There was a sense of urgency to get home to avoid any more of this growing storm, and fast. But this guy — you wanted to continue talking to him.
He raised an eyebrow at you, looking to his left.
You raised your chest, nervously pointing in the opposite direction.
“Down there,” you corrected him.
“Ah,” he smiled. It was faint, but you noticed his upper lip formed the shape of a heart before another roll of thunder drummed through the sky. You winced, and his smile faded.
“I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said. “Thank you.”
You nodded, and he suddenly turned his back, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the vague 7/11 down the street. He hiked the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, creating a small hat to shield his eyes from the unwanted shower. You watched the exposed skin on the small of his back as raindrops trickled into the hem of his jeans.
Suddenly, your heart skipped in your chest, and you did something your carefully formed character would never allow.
“W-Wait,” you stumbled. The click of your heeled boots rang in your ears as you walked down the small set of stairs and onto the sidewalk.
The man turned around, his posture straightening at the sight of you.
Quickly, you went to him, covering his head with your umbrella.
“I-I’ll come with you,” you offered.
His close proximity flooded all of your senses. Your fingers visibly began to shake, and you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw how tremendous the height difference was between the two of you.
“Thank you,” he softly said.
At that moment, you knew your life changed. You saw yourself in his eyes, maybe staring a little too long for two strangers who hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But you looked into them, and somehow the raging storm had transferred from the sky into your heart.
You became a jumbled mess after then, as Taehyung had exchanged his name with yours, along with all of his habits, hobbies, and love.
Every day after that was filled with giggles and kisses and sleepless nights wrapped in his sheets. He had shown you the other side of the world, and you accepted it with him by your side. He took things from you you couldn’t imagine anyone else being worthy enough to take. All your firsts, and what you hope, all your lasts, too.
But something had been sitting at the back of your mind ever since you laid eyes on him, creating an unsettling feeling.
He was, indeed, nowhere near the class you grew up in. Living in the worst part of the city with his younger brother and sister and parents in a small, 2-bedroom apartment. He worked overtime on most days; all of his earnings he gave to his mother was to pay rent. His brother had just become old enough to help out. However, Taehyung explained that he caught him a few times slacking — the young boy claiming that he was working but instead at the casino with his friends. His younger sister was 6 years old and by far the sweetest young girl you knew. She became someone like your own sister, someone you chose to connect with on a level you weren’t able to do with your own siblings. His father fell ill a few years ago and became unable to work a demanding job. Instead, he and his wife work at their own small grocery store on the lower level of the building down the street.
His family welcomed you generously, never once commenting on your class, never once making it a topic of conversation. They called you their daughter.
What was unsettling was not the circumstances involving his family. It was the circumstances involving your own.
You hadn’t mentioned him to your parents by choice. You knew how they would react, especially considering your father had already begun selecting the sons of his most trusted colleagues to propose a marriage. Though you are not ashamed of Taehyung, your family would most definitely be. They would never accept him as your love. It would be too tarnishing to their name, too embarrassing to taint the family with someone whose house costs less than their dining room table.
You kept Taehyung out of it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t stop asking about meeting your family. He’s serious enough about you to want to take things further. But it puts you in an awkward situation, like now. Gasping into the sheets of his bed, his dick pulling out of you as cum falls down your thighs.
“Baby?” he pants, hovering over you and kissing up your shoulder to your cheek. He’s still catching his breath, as are you. He just railed the fuck out of you and still begs for conversation? You will never understand this man.
“Hm,” you ask, resting your head on your forearm in a desperate attempt to control your breathing.
“I want to meet your parents,” he bites the shell of your ear gently.
You groan loudly, tired of this topic of conversation. It seems to be the only thing on his mind these days.
In the two years you two had been dating, Tae was finally able to afford a place of his own while still helping his family. His brother stepped up and managed to land a good position at a nearby company that really helped with the family finances. Hence, Taehyung’s newfound freedom from the cramped space with his family. But ever since he moved into his new apartment two weeks ago, he’s been set on (a) “christening” every nook and cranny of his new place with you and (b) meeting your family.
“Baby, can we not talk about this right now?” you press your fingers to your temple before running them into your hair.
“We never have talked about it,” he reminds you. You pause, knowing he’s right. You’ve always swayed him away from saying anything about the topic other than simply asking to talk about it.
“Why would you want to meet my parents,” you begin. You feel him smile a little, happy to start this long-awaited talk.
“Because you met mine,” he slides his elbows under your armpits, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel secure when he’s holding you like this, his chest embracing your back as he lets his weight rest on your body. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by the topic of conversation.
“I don’t want you to meet my parents,” you finally say. You know his heart broke a little from your words, being such a family man. But you feel obligated to be honest about this.
“What? Why not?” he crinkles his eyebrows together, pressing his nose into your cheek.
“Because, Tae,” you sigh into your palm. “They’re not…nice people.”
He lets the two of you sit in silence for a while, and you know he knows what you mean by that.
“It’s because I’m poor, isn’t it?” he finally lets out.
You grab his hand, drawing circles into his palm.
“Essentially,” you sigh. It doesn’t feel good to admit that. Disappointment floods your veins for him, wishing your family was less shallow. Maybe then, your response would have been different. “You know I don’t care about that stuff. But they…they do.”
“Your siblings?” he asks.
“They’re all like that,” you continue, playing with his knuckles. “I’m the only one, it seems, that isn’t.”
He plays with your hand, sliding into your fingers to hold it.
“Do you wish you were?” he whispers seriously.
“No,” you laugh.
Finally, you turn around in his embrace, looking at his face from beneath him. This man is truly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your palm holds the soft skin of his cheek as you search his eyes.
“Growing up, I used to be a little bit,” you admit. “But then I came to university. And I met you,” you rub his cheek with your thumb. “And you kind of flipped my whole world around.”
“Sorry,” he smiles. “Wasn’t the plan,” he pecks your lips. “I just needed an umbrella.”
You chuckle at that, pulling his face against yours to sear your lips into his. He accepts you, breathing into the kiss with chapped cherry lips and a big stupid blush on his face.
“I just want their blessing,” he clears his throat. “I-Is all.”
“For?” you peck his lips again.
“For me to date their daughter, amongst other things,” he laughs through his nose. “It’s also been…a little while.”
You do feel bad, as he had introduced you to his family about three months into dating. It’s been two years, and your family doesn’t even know you are dating someone.
“You’ll meet them when they have a reason to meet you,” you sigh against his nose. “They’re like that. It has to be on their terms, not mine or yours.”
“Hopefully, that’s sometime soon,” he says before kissing you deeply. You let him, wanting his lips to erase the scenarios you’ve let flood into your head of Taehyung meeting your family. You kiss him, asking him to heal you again, to give you the endless positivity he has within himself. But you can’t shake it this time around. You have a bad feeling about it, every time you think about making things just that more official with your family meeting him. You know Taehyung is it for you. But will your parents accept that? Your gut twists and turns at the thought, your answer spelled out for you.
___
Law school used to be interesting.
Back when lectures were shorter and the professors actually cared about their job, you had a fun time. Now, you sit through your lectures with the palm of your hand dragging the skin of your cheek upward as you lean against it. You stare at the oldest fart of a professor talk in circles, “womp wo-womp womp”, like in the Charlie Brown phone scenes. The only thing that keeps you from dozing off is the thought of your date tonight.
Last week, Taehyung had been working at this new site at this development on the other side of the city. They put in a fountain lake, with three willow trees (your favorite). Your boyfriend, of course, knew this and set up the idea of a picnic date along the new Willow Tree Lake. Just the thought alone makes you giddy.
These days, Taehyung has been working terrible overtime in an area near campus. Something about the pipes being plugged with slow-forming concrete from a newer company that started off just a few months ago. They fucked up a lot of the city’s piping, and of course, the company Tae works for has been assigned to fix all of their damage.
Needless to say, you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. Only quick cell phone calls and tired texts in the small hours of the morning and night. You miss him terribly, and your body springs to life when the professor calls the end of the lecture. It’s your last one of the day, and you nearly run out to make your way to your car, ready to start preparing for your date tonight.
You’re met with a surprise, however, when you exit your dorm.
A chalky hand grabs onto your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours, before pulling you into his chest.
“Hi, baby,” he smiles sheepishly.
“Tae!” you squeal, letting go of his hand and jumping into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, his own around your waist as he spins you in the open air of the campus. You giggle against him, quietly screaming when he goes a little fast. Eventually, he lets your feet feel the ground again, and you feel a strong urge to kiss him. It’s been so long.
“You’re so chalky,” you brush at his face, white powder smearing on his skin.
With that, he shakes out his hair onto yours, white dust falling onto your skin.
“Ah! Tae!” You shield your face from his assault. But he’s unrelenting, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a kiss.
You let him kiss you, his big hands stroking your cheek. You don’t let him go on for too long, still not one to be too fond of PDA like he is.
“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung’s smile fades when he looks at your dress.
“Wha—” you look down at your dress, your white Chanel dress, covered in soot and powder and dirt, transferred from his clothes onto yours. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he gulps, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t thinki—”
“It’s okay,” you smile, holding his hand. “Nothing my dad won’t buy a carbon copy of with a good excuse. To him, I fell. Plain and simple.”
Your words don’t do much, his sorry expression written all over his face still. You cup his cheek, reassuring him.
“What are you doing here, anyways?” you change the subject.
“The pipe issue I told you about ended up going into some apartment building. They sent me up there and the ceiling fell in. Hence all the…white stuff and dust,” he shows you his powdery hands, as if his cheeks and hair weren’t enough to prove his story. “Anyway, the civil engineers ended up needing to go back to the main building and find a new plan to go about it. So they sent us all home early. Thought I would come and surprise you.”
“It worked,” you kiss him again.
“I should probably go though,” he cuts the time short. “I want to shower before our date.”
“That would be nice, you’re right,” you laugh. “I’ll see you at 7, then?”
“Mhm,” he squeezes your hand again before looking down at your dress one last time. You can tell he’s still beating himself up over it when he tightly runs his hands through his hair and sends you a tight-lipped smile as if still saying sorry. You send him one back, letting him know it’s okay. And with that, he leaves your presence.
You’re alone until you reach home a little past 4. When you walked into your house, the last thing you were expecting was your eldest sister, brother, and parents waiting for you in the dining room.
“D-Did I miss something?” you laugh awkwardly. They all seem to be looking at you, disappointment or disgust written on their faces at the sight of your dress. You do your best to hide it with your purse.
“No,” your sister starts. “But we seem to be missing the part where you let dirty construction workers make out with you in public.”
You feel your heart sink to your feet, a cold heat spreading throughout your body.
“Susanna,” you pinch the skin between your eyebrows. “It’s not like that.”
“Please, enlighten us, then,” she snobs.
You take a breath, ready to explain yourself. But your father stops you.
“Invite the boy over,” he calmly states.
“What?” all four of you say at once.
“Dad, are you crazy?” your brother laughs. “He’s a construction worker.”
“Ren, please,” you attempt to control your anger. You don’t like the way they are talking about him right now. Only mentioning his job and ignoring the rest.
“What, don’t like me talking down on your pet?” he smiles, doing his best to get under your skin. It’s working, that’s for sure.
“Seriously, darling, what are you thinking?” your mother puts her hand on your father's arm.
“The boy clearly has feelings for my daughter,” he sets down his brandy on the dining table. “And, if I’m not mistaken, she has the same feelings.”
Your sister looks at you in disgust, wondering how you could ever fall for someone so low class.
“Besides, he owes me a good explanation for destroying your clothes,” he clears his throat. “That was custom designed.”
—
You run to your car after the ‘meeting’ your family welcomed you home with. Your hands shake and tremble, trying to start the car without bursting into tears.
Without even calling him, you race to Taehyung’s apartment, knocking on his door with panic laced in every vein of your body.
He opens it, a big smile warming your heart. But it quickly fades at the pale look on your face.
“What’s wrong,” he pulls you into his apartment.
He’s showered since you last saw him. He changed into his PJs, not yet ready to get into his outfit for your date tonight. On any other day, you would be struck with the comfy boyfriend look, ready to pounce into his arms and hold him close until the sun rose. But not today. Today, you have uncertainty flowing through your veins. Could this be the end? Could this be the start of something new? What will happen between now and midnight?
“Baby, talk to m—”
“My parents want to meet you,” you interrupt him.
“What?”
“T-They want to meet you,” you say again. “Actually, my entire family wants to meet you. Today. Tonight. For dinner. At my house.”
You watch him take it all in, his expression changing rapidly into emotions you can’t really put a label on. You’ve never seen this expression on his face. You’re sure it’s a bit of excitement, as he’s always wanted to meet them. But also a little bit of worry, as you’ve told him what they think of people like him.
“I-Is this about the dress?” he asks worriedly.
“Kind of!” you panic, your hands running through your hair. Frustrated tears flood your eyes. You’re just so frustrated with this situation. With your sister, with your brother and dad. With everyone but Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. “My sister saw us today, apparently. A-And she went to my parents, a-and they were waiting for me when I got home, along with my brother. My dad was the one who suggested you come over, and I don’t know why. I can’t read what any of them are trying to say.”
“Hey,” he grabs your shoulders. You start to cry, fat tears falling down your cheeks.
“This is not how I wanted today to go,” you cry-laugh to yourself.
“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know what to do,” you candor as you fall into his neck, sobbing against his shirt.
His big palms rub your back. You’re sure he’s a little shocked right now. You’ve told him about your family. About what kind of people they are. You’re sure he’s scared, too. You hate this. You wish you could just run away and avoid it all.
“Let’s start with figuring out what I’m going to wear, yeah?” he gently smiles down at you.
___
Dinner is awkward. So awkward.
It’s quiet, and your leg bounces rapidly in your seat.
Your parents hadn’t let Taehyung sit next to you. Rather, he sits across from you, unable to soothe your nerves with a hand on your thigh or palm.
Your sister and brother sit next to you, your parents on either end of the table. There are two empty seats next to Taehyung, him being closest to your father.
You’re sure your siblings had interrogated him a little when your mother forced you to change into something else when the two of you got here. Clad in a pink flowy dress and a braid, you nervously made your way down the stairs and into the dining room, only to find your boyfriend in front of his seat, nodding to the space between your siblings as your own.
Since the appetizers came in, no one had spoken a word.
It’s terribly uncomfortable, and you try to distract yourself by silently telling Taehyung to put his napkin in his lap instead of next to his plate. Your brother laughs, and you jab your elbow into his side.
“So,” your father starts. His voice sends a shock down your spine. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the dress.”
Your nerves spike the highest they’ve ever been. The dress isn’t really that important. Had it been anyone else, maybe someone your father knew or liked, the dress would be replaced without a word the next day. His pressure on the dress with Tae makes you think he will use it against him, causing you to bounce both of your legs up and down rapidly.
“Yes, I—” you start, but your father raises his palm slightly, telling you to stay quiet and let him answer.
“Yes,” Taehyung clears his throat. “I apologize, sir. I was simply being careless. I was excited to see your daughter, and had acted before realizing what she was wearing.”
“That was custom made,” your sister starts. “By Chanel.”
Taehyung doesn’t seem to recognize the name, making your sister smile snottily.
“It’s a brand,” she shoves her food into her mouth with a snobby tug of her lips.
You clutch the end of your silverware, trying to transfer all the things you wish you could scream into the piece of silver metal.
“Enough,” your father stops her interrogation. He has made it clear he would be the one interrogating tonight. “I do have to ask, though,” he turns his attention toward Tae again. “What makes you think you’re worthy of seeing my daughter?”
The table is silent, everyone’s mind empty but your own. You could think of a million reasons, maybe even more than that, as to why he deserves you. But does Taehyung think he deserves you? You thought you made it clear within the past two years that he does, but his silence speaks for itself.
After a few more seconds of being silent, your father laughs a little through his nose.
“I am aware of your financial situation so that already docks a big chunk off your worth,” he starts again.
“Father,” you try to stop him.
“Your occupation is less than fulfilling,” he continues. “Surely, you must know that affection alone cannot support her.”
Taehyung’s mouth is so dry, that he wants to drink the entire ocean. But he lets it sit in discomfort, the truth ringing through his ears like a bomb dropped right in front of him.
“You care for her, son,” he sighs. “I can see that,” your father sets down his brandy, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, and latching his fingers together over his lower chest. “So, why don’t we just end this here. Before it gets any deeper than it is.”
You see Taehyung’s heart drop to his stomach. You wish you could go over to him and put it right back in his chest for him, but your father continues to drop it further and further until it eventually breaks in two upon impact with the hard floor.
“I’ll give you an ultimatum, just to be sure you understand,” your father starts. “You go back to your construction work and help your parents with their grocery business. Cut her out of your life. In return, I’ll forget about the dress. About the some 70 thousand dollars you owe me for the destruction of it.”
“Father, please,” you cry, starting to stand. "It was my fault." But your sister grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down onto your seat.
“If you’re smart, you’ll understand how long that would take to accumulate on top of your other finances to return,” he continues. “If you truly care about her, you’d let her find someone who can meet all of her expectations and give her a comfortable future.”
“No,” you start, but Taehyung silences you with his gaze.
He looks to you from your father, feeling the weight of his words. You look at him, seeing how he believes every word your father is saying. You see it ring in his ears, and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.
“Sir, I—” he rasps, defeat flooding his lungs. This is not about the dress. He’d spent the rest of his life paying your father back if it meant he’d let him have you. This is about your future that he knows he can’t support; about the fact that he knows the best he can give you is nowhere near the luxury someone else can. “I just want her to be happy.”
“In this world, love is not enough for that,” Your father stands up, his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you to the door, son,” your father says.
Taehyung stills, his attention suddenly transferred to the calluses on his palms. He examines them, then the scuffs on the rim of his sleeves. It serves as a reminder, that even the best things he owns cannot match up to the expectations served tonight. He knows you don’t care. He knows you’re better than this. But surely it might become easier with time for you. Your father would find someone genius, with wealth beyond imagination. You will forget about him with time, and your wounds will heal. You’ll have an army of new cars, go to fancy banquets with designer dresses, a penthouse in the city, a smart-suit husband, and beautiful children. He thinks about what he could give you, and it amounts to close to nothing. He’s already given you everything he has, and it’s not enough to keep you safe.
He thinks about this before standing in his seat. Your breath hitches in his throat, watching him give you up, your father’s hand on his back guiding him through the dining room, neither sparing you a glance.
“No,” you cry, standing up. Your sister tries to stop you again, but you shove her hand away.
“Y/n L/n, if you chase that boy, right now will be the last time you step in this house!” your mother slams her hands on the table.
There are words you wish you could say. So many emotions and slander and curse words you wish you could shout and spit in her face.
“I'm happy with him,” is all you can say. "I love him"
“Love is but a word,” your mother rolls her eyes. “You will forget about him in two weeks! That boy cannot support you. He can be replaced.”
“He can’t be,” you counter. Your chest rises with words, an essay might come out of your mouth, but you’re silenced when your father comes back into the room, Taehyung gone from your sight. You silence yourself, knowing you have to make a choice. Without even thinking, your feet move, and you’re brushing past your father, opening the door to you’re home and welcoming the rain.
Your parents wouldn’t have his presence in your life, banishing him from your home after he showed up in the nicest clothes he owned. They forbid him from ever seeing you again, using the price of your stained clothes as a threat if he ever were to lay eyes on you again. But you ignore that, running after him, soaking yourself in the rain once again as you chase him.
You call his name, shouting it into the street. He ignores you, and you feel you’re going crazy the more you call out his name until he finally turns around in quick anger. By this point, you two had already gone well down the street, far away from your posh, gated house. He grabs your cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You kiss him with fervor, letting the rain soak your pink dress and braided hair. He does the same, not giving a care in the world about the time he spent trying to make himself look nice for your family. He kisses you as if it would be the last time he would ever feel your lips against his again.
“We can’t do this, Y/n,” he breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close as his jaw clenches from his own words.
“Tae,” you sob, cupping his cheek. He covers your hand with his own, squeezing it tight.
“You know we can’t, Y/n,” he shakes his head, looking into your tear-filled eyes. “They will never accept me.”
“I accept you,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, Tae. I accept you.”
“It’s not enough,” he whispers.
“N-No,” you shake your head.
But he already began letting go of your hand, his heel taking a step back.
“T-Tae, no,” you grab his other hand, but he forcibly makes you let go. You watch him turn on his heel, his back replacing his chest.
“Kim Taehyung,” you sob into the open air of the empty street. He does nothing, continuing his path to wherever he is going. “Taehyung!” you scream, but he doesn’t stop.
Your chest rises and falls so quickly, that you feel dizzy. Panic rises into every vein in your body, watching him grow smaller and smaller as he distances himself from you. Never in your life had you felt like it was between life or death between two choices. But god, was it clear which option had been labeled death, and which one was life.
“Marry me,” you shout. You watch his feet stop, both shoes parallel to each other. The panic in your veins slightly subsides at the fact that his distance stopped becoming larger. And then you say it again. “Marry me, Taehyung.”
He turns around, and you begin walking—running—toward him.
“Don’t say that,” he angrily breathes through his nose once you reach him.
“Marry me,” you say it again.
He looks up, despite the rain, his jaw clenched.
“I can’t go through life without you,” you cry, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”
“You can,” he denies.
“I’m so in love with you,” you laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”
His hands clench, balled into fists. God, did he love you more than the world itself. More than himself. But he can’t be selfish. He can’t rip you away from your family.
“And what about them?” he nods his head in the direction of your house.
“They can’t replace you,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “No one can replace you.”
“You can’t replace your family, Y/n,” he says. “I’m just a guy. Probably the least qualified to have you,” he laughs through his nose. “I can be replaced. They cannot.”
“They have given me a choice,” you cry. His words hurt. You wish you could make him see just how irreplaceable he is. You cannot replace your family, but you cannot replace him, either. “I already made it the minute I ran out of the house.”
He looks at you, finally locking eyes with yours. You feel the panic fade when he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that this is right. That you’re making the right choice.
“Y/n,” he starts, shaking his head.
“I chose you a long time ago,” you go on. “The minute I shared my umbrella with you, I chose you. All your boxy smiles and shy laughs. The dirt in your hair and under your nails. Your torn T-shirts and holed shoes. Your heart.”
A tear falls from his eye, his jaw still clenched.
“I can’t give you this life,” he takes your hands from his cheeks, holding them tightly between your soaked bodies. “I-I will never be able to afford law school or a gated mansion in the city. Or a white Chanel dress. Your life — I can’t rob you of it.”
“You are my life, Tae,” you rub your nose against his. “That stuff doesn’t matter. I want you. Forever.”
He gulps, the look in your eye speaking nothing but the truth. It scares him because of course, he wants the best for you. But he is unsure of himself, of what he can give you other than his heart. But the way you look at him, as if that is truly enough for you, makes his worries subside. You’re choosing him. Between life or death, you took a side, labeling him as life.
He grabs your waist, his arm pulling you into his frame as he sears his lips onto yours. Big, callused palms cup your jaw, holding you against his lips as if you’d try to escape. This time around, the kiss is hard, so needy and loved. You feel loved like you’ve never felt before. All the panic in your heart fades and is replaced with a need to keep him close. You assume he feels the same, his strong arms lifting you around his waist. You laugh against his lips, so giddy and so in love.
“I love you,” you chuckle, almost in disbelief that you could love someone so much. He’s given you something you thought you’d never receive in the world your parents brought you into. You feel fresh with him, like you’ve been born again.
He kisses you again, confirming he feels the same before he sets your feet back on the wetted sidewalk.
“Let’s go,” he takes your hand.
“Where?” you follow him.
“My place,” he looks back at you.
You come up to his side, holding his arm as you walk in the rain. It was just a walk until thunder struck again, and the rain started falling ten times harsher than it was before. It causes you to shriek, and Taehyung only laughs, beginning a sprint while you follow after him.
You two ran to the bus stop, where you kissed some more, before the bus arrived and you shivered in the air conditioning of the large vehicle until it arrived on the other side of the city where his apartment complex was.
His place became a little bit of yours. You had unofficially moved in until now, as you stumble in his arms into the elevator, making out like horny teens until the number for the 15th floor rang in his ears and he pulled away, much to your disliking.
The kisses you press to his neck make his whole body feel weak, his fingers unable to find the key to his apartment amongst the many in the single key ring chain he owns.
“Baby,” he whispers desperately. “S-Slow down, m’ trying to find the key,” he nervously chuckles.
You only run your hands under his soaked shirt, feeling the divots of his abs under your fingertips. Working at a construction company certainly did have more perks than one.
Finally, he seems to have found the key, slipping it forcibly into the lock and turning it until it opened the door to his apartment.
“Come here,” he lifts you up onto his hips, walking you inside his place and pushing you against the door, making it close all the way. He’s sure to lock it after tossing his keys somewhere on the neighboring kitchen counter as he kisses hot trails up your neck. They’re hasty kisses, and so so needy.
“T-Tae,” you grip his hair.
The feeling makes him groan, his hand forming a fist against the wall in pure self-control.
You slide your fingers under his shirt again, except this time, they go all the way up. You force his shirt off his skin, and he lets you take it off as his hands firmly grip your waist. He uses his new grip to support you when he moves you off the wall, his legs guiding you through his apartment as you kiss his neck once more. This time, to leave marks.
You latch onto his sweet spot so tenderly, he grips your hips hard enough to leave his own marks on your skin.
With one hand, he pushes open the door to his bedroom before landing you on the soft sheets of his bed. You’re overwhelmed with him. The smell of his clean sheets floods your lungs as he traps you underneath his body.
You gasp when he slides his hands up your waist, his fingers coming to your back to fiddle with the zipper of your dress.
He waits for your permission, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finds the zipper.
“Please, Tae,” you allow him.
He nods against your neck, telling you without words that he’s going to undress you.
You sit up for him, making it easier for him to carry the fabric over your head. You’re revealed to him in your soaked bra set. Nothing fancy, just nude colors to hide your undergarments beneath your dress.
You watch him admire your body, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to remember what you look like underneath your bra. You help him, reaching behind you to unhook it yourself.
It falls off your shoulders and your skin perks with the cold air mixing with your wet skin.
“Make love to me,” you ask. “Please.”
Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He’s seen you naked countless times. Fucked you like a rabbit in heat multiple times in just a day. But god, did hearing you ask him to make love to you settle the weight of your proposal from earlier. You really do choose him. And suddenly, he feels like it was the first time he’s ever looked at you naked. Like it was the first time he was going to enter your body. He felt nervous. So, so nervous. But never so sure of anything else in his life. He knew he wanted you as his forever. But was too selfless to ask you to leave your prosperous life for his. For the longest time, he thought he was living on borrowed time with you. That one day, his first and only love would eventually leave him. His dreams are coming true, and he doesn’t know how to process that other than following your exact command.
“Tae?” you cup his cheek.
He sits on his knees, each one placed next to your thighs as you sit below him.
You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his face leaning into your touch. You bring him back to life, his body finally moving to trap you against the sheets again.
With soft lips, much less needy than the prior ones you two have shared today, he kisses you. He’s gentle as his hips press against yours. You gasp against his lips, the feeling of his clothed cock against your thin underwear stirring things inside of you.
You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles to secure his embrace over your own.
Taehyung groans, the friction making his desire uncontrollable as he grinds against your core.
“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets. He takes this as an opportunity to trap the skin of your neck with his teeth, gently biting at your flesh in soft confessions of his love.
Your breasts push against his bare skin, feeling overwhelmed when he takes your pert nipple between his fingers, pinching them slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.
It’s all too much, his lips, his fingers, his hips grinding into you, sending waves of pleasure straight into your core. You just want him already. You want to feel full of him.
Your heels start the process, digging at the hem of his jeans as if you could get them off without your hands when they’re so securely fastened by his belt.
“Fuck,” he moans, finally granting your wish as he pushes off of you and unbuckles his belt.
Dark brown eyes admire you, laying on his sheets, giving yourself to him completely. You stare back at him, watching him push his jeans and boxers down to the floor, stepping out of them slowly before he hooks his slender finger under your panties.
“A-Are you sure?” he asks you, hiking your legs up as your underwear slides off your smooth skin.
“Yes,” you nod.
You hear your panties fall on the floor, joining the rest of your clothes, when he slowly spreads your legs, creating a place for himself as he falls on top of you again. Strong arms come under your shoulders, and you slide your hands up his neck, one arm securing him close to you, the other feeling a rapid heartbeat under his chest. You gasp when you feel the head of his cock brush gently against your thigh, so close to your core, but far enough away to make you want to beg for it. You, too, feel like it’s the first time all over again. When he took your virginity and your heart and wrote his name all over your skin.
“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” he shakily breathes above you, a small nervous smile on his lips.
“No,” you laugh shyly through your nose, looking into his warm eyes. You see yourself in them, and you’re reminded of the moment you first saw yourself in them two years ago.
“Are you scared?” he asks, lining himself up with your entrance. You know he isn’t referring to sex, but rather everything that comes after this moment. Of your parents. Of everything you’ll have to sort out. But you know it is nothing that you won’t do alone. The man above you has made it clear that you will never feel alone again.
“A little,” you admit with a small smile.
“Me, too,” he kisses your cheek softly. With a push of his hips, his face falls into your neck, a small groan coming from his lips as you gasp and claw at the skin of his shoulder.
“Oh, T-Tae,” you moan sweetly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he slides out just to slam back into you once more. You feel giddy, a small raspy laugh coming from your throat as he develops a pace. He’s so perfect for you, fits you like a glove in more ways than one. He fills you completely. Over fills your cup with all of his love and giggles and smiles. You can’t get enough, it’s almost comical.
“Faster,” you whine, arching you back into him.
He obeys, grabbing your thighs and pushing them upwards until they’re hooked on his shoulders.
“Fuck, Y/n,” he moans, slamming into you with a newfound passion. Your nails slide down his biceps, some drawing blood from the feeling of his dick ripping you open. It makes you choke beneath him, your head falling back as he fucks you full of his cock. “S-So perfect.”
His nose brushes against your collarbone, using your neck as support when he leans his forehead against it. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent before he takes your hips firmly into his palms and holds you against the sheets. Your legs fall naturally, too weak to hold themselves up. But he doesn’t seem to care, instead using his new grip to pull you into his hips, pushing you deeper onto his length than you think you’ve ever gone before. The tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you wince in pleasurable pain when he slides out and slams against it again.
“A-Ah,” you whine, unsure how to feel about this new sensation. The man above you is sure, slowly but harshly pushing into you. His sureness makes you swell, and you feel like he is truly combining his body with your own the deeper he goes.
“Y-You,” he nearly slurs. Your pussy squeezes the head of his cock so justly, he feels his vision going blurry. Everything about you makes him explode. His dick, his mind, his heart. Everything. He can't even finish his sentence.
He goes faster, slipping past your folds with your slick sliding down your thighs and onto his sheets.
“T-Tae,” you panic, your high coming in quickly, setting warmly at the pit of your stomach just seconds away from release. “Tae, I’m gonna cum.”
“F-Fuck, me, too,” he moves faster, harder. His hands touch you, your skin following in flames the further his hands slide up your waist. He groans uncontrollably when you clench around him, your warm heat spreading down your walls as he makes love to you. “Y-Yn,” he whines.
“Say you love me,” you gasp, your voice nearly a whisper as you cream his cock.
“I love you,” he kisses your lips. It’s wet and so disgustingly sweet, you force him to lean himself into your body again, to use it to cum. “I love you so much.”
You watch him shut his eyes tight, his cock twitching inside of you, begging for release as he fights it, probably wanting to last longer for you, to give you a second orgasm before he lets himself cum.
“Cum for me, sweet boy,” you kiss his cheek.
“A-Ah,” he moans, his nose rubbing against yours. You squeak when he slams himself into you, harsh and raw, pushing past you as he fills you with ropes of white cum. “Oh, fuck,” he shakes, fists gathering the fabric of the sheets tightly as he falls into your neck, dick twitching as he cums hotly in your walls. He can’t control the noises, he’s never felt like this before. Like nothing else matters but his future with you.
His dick slips past your cervix, exiting your walls with loads of cum falling out of your abused cunt.
He falls on top of you, the two of you catching your breath with closed eyes and heavy limbs. Until you start laughing.
“What?” he chuckles with you. Your laugh is contagious.
He comes up to look at you, your cheeks red and your pupils shot with love.
“Nothing,” you shake your head. You look at him, cupping his cheek as he switches his gaze between your eyes and your cherry lips. “I-I’m just so happy.”
He laughs at that. Himself full of the same happiness.
“So?” you poke his cheek, raising an eyebrow.
“So?” he raises his own.
“Will you?”
“Will I…?”
“Will you marry me, silly,” you roll your eyes. Although it doesn’t seem nearly as sassy as it is supposed to, not with a giant smile plastered on your face.
“Oh,” he smiles back. “I guess.”
“'You guess'?!” you pinch his shoulder. He winces but laughs as he pulls you into a hug, switching himself on his back with your hips straddling his own. Cum leaks down onto his softening cock, but that is the last thing on either of your minds. His big hands feel the smoothness of your thighs, as yours play with the skin of his chest. If he didn’t know every one of your quirks, he would have taken it as you being silly. But he knows you’re just a little nervous about his answer.
“Yes,” he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Of course I will. But, let me do it properly.”
You physically relax, and pure happiness floods your system.
“We never do things properly,” you remind him, rolling your eyes with a smile again.
“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “I-It might be a while, but at least let me buy you a ring.”
“Okay,” you bite your lip, hiding a closed-lipped smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and the two of you are left a stupid mess as you start your forever together.
___
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]
[Summary]: You know Taehyung is the one. You knew it since the first day you saw him, when thunder rolled through the sky. But your lives don't collide. They might be too different to choose both.
[Theme]: Rich Reader, Law Student Reader, Construction Worker TH, Poor TH, Rich Girl Poor Boy AU
[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes, sexual content, unprotected sex, kissing, making out, marking, angst, familial separation, topics of class, and triggering opinions of some characters
[Word Count]: 8,296
[A/N]: First TH fic!! I hope it is enjoyable~ This might be my last fic for a little bit. Going to be focusing on school and working really hard until the summertime :)
People say that when you fall in love, your life develops new meaning. They say that your life changes as you fall, and you watch it spiral out of your control over a silly feeling you can’t help.
You can say that the people, whoever they may be, are correct. Love happened to you quite unexpectedly, and completely out of the box you put your goals for the future inside.
Taehyung happened during the city's worst monsoon season in over 50 years. His rain-stained jeans and dirty white construction t-shirt clung to his skin, showing you all of his tanned glory as the rain fell angrily. You stood on the top step of your sister’s corporate building, looking down at him three steps below you.
“You got a spare umbrella, by chance?” he asked you. Caramel-colored, wet hair covered his forehead. But you could still see the discomfort in his eyes due to the harsh rain.
Looking at your own umbrella in your grip, you shook your head, telling him that this was your only one.
“You know a place around here where I can find one?” he asked.
“I’m not familiar with the area,” you explained.
“Me neither,” he smiled as he looked down at his red Converse.
There was an uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You felt bad for the guy, clearly well-underprepared for the season. Your designer coat and accessories terribly clashed with his, an obvious difference in class confronted you in the face. There was a feeling of fear, you remember. Back then, you used to be one of those people who thought terribly of people like him. Thinking that he’d ask for your Burberry umbrella and never return it. You thought maybe he’d pull you aside and forcibly rob you of your money just because his shirt had a few stains and the brand name of the city’s lower-end construction company was written on the fabric. You associated him with the worst of the worst, just because of his class. Or rather, assumed class.
But those eyes captured your soul. They were warm, and his smile sent medicine to your heart, healing all those presumed thoughts and replacing them with the benefit of the doubt.
“I think there is a 7/11 around the block,” you recalled from your memory.
Thunder rolled through the city skies, and you clutched your umbrella harder. You never liked thunderstorms. There was a sense of urgency to get home to avoid any more of this growing storm, and fast. But this guy — you wanted to continue talking to him.
He raised an eyebrow at you, looking to his left.
You raised your chest, nervously pointing in the opposite direction.
“Down there,” you corrected him.
“Ah,” he smiled. It was faint, but you noticed his upper lip formed the shape of a heart before another roll of thunder drummed through the sky. You winced, and his smile faded.
“I’ll let you be on your way, then,” he said. “Thank you.”
You nodded, and he suddenly turned his back, walking down the sidewalk in the direction of the vague 7/11 down the street. He hiked the back collar of his t-shirt over his head, creating a small hat to shield his eyes from the unwanted shower. You watched the exposed skin on the small of his back as raindrops trickled into the hem of his jeans.
Suddenly, your heart skipped in your chest, and you did something your carefully formed character would never allow.
“W-Wait,” you stumbled. The click of your heeled boots rang in your ears as you walked down the small set of stairs and onto the sidewalk.
The man turned around, his posture straightening at the sight of you.
Quickly, you went to him, covering his head with your umbrella.
“I-I’ll come with you,” you offered.
His close proximity flooded all of your senses. Your fingers visibly began to shake, and you had to remind yourself to breathe when you saw how tremendous the height difference was between the two of you.
“Thank you,” he softly said.
At that moment, you knew your life changed. You saw yourself in his eyes, maybe staring a little too long for two strangers who hadn’t even exchanged names yet. But you looked into them, and somehow the raging storm had transferred from the sky into your heart.
You became a jumbled mess after then, as Taehyung had exchanged his name with yours, along with all of his habits, hobbies, and love.
Every day after that was filled with giggles and kisses and sleepless nights wrapped in his sheets. He had shown you the other side of the world, and you accepted it with him by your side. He took things from you you couldn’t imagine anyone else being worthy enough to take. All your firsts, and what you hope, all your lasts, too.
But something had been sitting at the back of your mind ever since you laid eyes on him, creating an unsettling feeling.
He was, indeed, nowhere near the class you grew up in. Living in the worst part of the city with his younger brother and sister and parents in a small, 2-bedroom apartment. He worked overtime on most days; all of his earnings he gave to his mother was to pay rent. His brother had just become old enough to help out. However, Taehyung explained that he caught him a few times slacking — the young boy claiming that he was working but instead at the casino with his friends. His younger sister was 6 years old and by far the sweetest young girl you knew. She became someone like your own sister, someone you chose to connect with on a level you weren’t able to do with your own siblings. His father fell ill a few years ago and became unable to work a demanding job. Instead, he and his wife work at their own small grocery store on the lower level of the building down the street.
His family welcomed you generously, never once commenting on your class, never once making it a topic of conversation. They called you their daughter.
What was unsettling was not the circumstances involving his family. It was the circumstances involving your own.
You hadn’t mentioned him to your parents by choice. You knew how they would react, especially considering your father had already begun selecting the sons of his most trusted colleagues to propose a marriage. Though you are not ashamed of Taehyung, your family would most definitely be. They would never accept him as your love. It would be too tarnishing to their name, too embarrassing to taint the family with someone whose house costs less than their dining room table.
You kept Taehyung out of it, which doesn’t necessarily mean he won’t stop asking about meeting your family. He’s serious enough about you to want to take things further. But it puts you in an awkward situation, like now. Gasping into the sheets of his bed, his dick pulling out of you as cum falls down your thighs.
“Baby?” he pants, hovering over you and kissing up your shoulder to your cheek. He’s still catching his breath, as are you. He just railed the fuck out of you and still begs for conversation? You will never understand this man.
“Hm,” you ask, resting your head on your forearm in a desperate attempt to control your breathing.
“I want to meet your parents,” he bites the shell of your ear gently.
You groan loudly, tired of this topic of conversation. It seems to be the only thing on his mind these days.
In the two years you two had been dating, Tae was finally able to afford a place of his own while still helping his family. His brother stepped up and managed to land a good position at a nearby company that really helped with the family finances. Hence, Taehyung’s newfound freedom from the cramped space with his family. But ever since he moved into his new apartment two weeks ago, he’s been set on (a) “christening” every nook and cranny of his new place with you and (b) meeting your family.
“Baby, can we not talk about this right now?” you press your fingers to your temple before running them into your hair.
“We never have talked about it,” he reminds you. You pause, knowing he’s right. You’ve always swayed him away from saying anything about the topic other than simply asking to talk about it.
“Why would you want to meet my parents,” you begin. You feel him smile a little, happy to start this long-awaited talk.
“Because you met mine,” he slides his elbows under your armpits, resting his chin on your shoulder. You feel secure when he’s holding you like this, his chest embracing your back as he lets his weight rest on your body. If only the moment wasn’t ruined by the topic of conversation.
“I don’t want you to meet my parents,” you finally say. You know his heart broke a little from your words, being such a family man. But you feel obligated to be honest about this.
“What? Why not?” he crinkles his eyebrows together, pressing his nose into your cheek.
“Because, Tae,” you sigh into your palm. “They’re not…nice people.”
He lets the two of you sit in silence for a while, and you know he knows what you mean by that.
“It’s because I have no money, isn’t it?” he finally lets out.
You grab his hand, drawing circles into his palm.
“Essentially,” you sigh. It doesn’t feel good to admit that. Disappointment floods your veins for him, wishing your family was less shallow. Maybe then, your response would have been different. “You know I don’t care about that stuff. But they…they do.”
“Your siblings?” he asks.
“They’re all like that,” you continue, playing with his knuckles. “I’m the only one, it seems, that isn’t.”
He plays with your hand, sliding into your fingers to hold it.
“Do you wish you were?” he whispers seriously.
“No,” you laugh.
Finally, you turn around in his embrace, looking at his face from beneath him. This man is truly the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. Your palm holds the soft skin of his cheek as you search his eyes.
“Growing up, I used to be a little bit,” you admit. “But then I came to university. And I met you,” you rub his cheek with your thumb. “And you kind of flipped my whole world around.”
“Sorry,” he smiles. “Wasn’t the plan,” he pecks your lips. “I just needed an umbrella.”
You chuckle at that, pulling his face against yours to sear your lips into his. He accepts you, breathing into the kiss with chapped cherry lips and a big stupid blush on his face.
“I just want their blessing,” he clears his throat. “I-Is all.”
“For?” you peck his lips again.
“For me to date their daughter, amongst other things,” he laughs through his nose. “It’s also been…a little while.”
You do feel bad, as he had introduced you to his family about three months into dating. It’s been two years, and your family doesn’t even know you are dating someone.
“You’ll meet them when they have a reason to meet you,” you sigh against his nose. “They’re like that. It has to be on their terms, not mine or yours.”
“Hopefully, that’s sometime soon,” he says before kissing you deeply. You let him, wanting his lips to erase the scenarios you’ve let flood into your head of Taehyung meeting your family. You kiss him, asking him to heal you again, to give you the endless positivity he has within himself. But you can’t shake it this time around. You have a bad feeling about it, every time you think about making things just that more official with your family meeting him. You know Taehyung is it for you. But will your parents accept that? Your gut twists and turns at the thought, your answer spelled out for you.
___
Law school used to be interesting.
Back when lectures were shorter and the professors actually cared about their job, you had a fun time. Now, you sit through your lectures with the palm of your hand dragging the skin of your cheek upward as you lean against it. You stare at the oldest fart of a professor talk in circles, “womp wo-womp womp”, like in the Charlie Brown phone scenes. The only thing that keeps you from dozing off is the thought of your date tonight.
Last week, Taehyung had been working at this new site at this development on the other side of the city. They put in a fountain lake, with three willow trees (your favorite). Your boyfriend, of course, knew this and set up the idea of a picnic date along the new Willow Tree Lake. Just the thought alone makes you giddy.
These days, Taehyung has been working terrible overtime in an area near campus. Something about the pipes being plugged with slow-forming concrete from a newer company that started off just a few months ago. They fucked up a lot of the city’s piping, and of course, the company Tae works for has been assigned to fix all of their damage.
Needless to say, you feel like you haven’t seen him in ages. Only quick cell phone calls and tired texts in the small hours of the morning and night. You miss him terribly, and your body springs to life when the professor calls the end of the lecture. It’s your last one of the day, and you nearly run out to make your way to your car, ready to start preparing for your date tonight.
You’re met with a surprise, however, when you exit your dorm.
A chalky hand grabs onto your wrist, intertwining his fingers with yours, before pulling you into his chest.
“Hi, baby,” he smiles sheepishly.
“Tae!” you squeal, letting go of his hand and jumping into his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck, his own around your waist as he spins you in the open air of the campus. You giggle against him, quietly screaming when he goes a little fast. Eventually, he lets your feet feel the ground again, and you feel a strong urge to kiss him. It’s been so long.
“You’re so chalky,” you brush at his face, white powder smearing on his skin.
With that, he shakes out his hair onto yours, white dust falling onto your skin.
“Ah! Tae!” You shield your face from his assault. But he’s unrelenting, wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a kiss.
You let him kiss you, his big hands stroking your cheek. You don’t let him go on for too long, still not one to be too fond of PDA like he is.
“Oh, fuck,” Taehyung’s smile fades when he looks at your dress.
“Wha—” you look down at your dress, your white Chanel dress, covered in soot and powder and dirt, transferred from his clothes onto yours. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” he gulps, running his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I wasn’t thinki—”
“It’s okay,” you smile, holding his hand. “Nothing my dad won’t buy a carbon copy of with a good excuse. To him, I fell. Plain and simple.”
Your words don’t do much, his sorry expression written all over his face still. You cup his cheek, reassuring him.
“What are you doing here, anyways?” you change the subject.
“The pipe issue I told you about ended up going into some apartment building. They sent me up there and the ceiling fell in. Hence all the…white stuff and dust,” he shows you his powdery hands, as if his cheeks and hair weren’t enough to prove his story. “Anyway, the civil engineers ended up needing to go back to the main building and find a new plan to go about it. So they sent us all home early. Thought I would come and surprise you.”
“It worked,” you kiss him again.
“I should probably go though,” he cuts the time short. “I want to shower before our date.”
“That would be nice, you’re right,” you laugh. “I’ll see you at 7, then?”
“Mhm,” he squeezes your hand again before looking down at your dress one last time. You can tell he’s still beating himself up over it when he tightly runs his hands through his hair and sends you a tight-lipped smile as if still saying sorry. You send him one back, letting him know it’s okay. And with that, he leaves your presence.
You’re alone until you reach home a little past 4. When you walked into your house, the last thing you were expecting was your eldest sister, brother, and parents waiting for you in the dining room.
“D-Did I miss something?” you laugh awkwardly. They all seem to be looking at you, disappointment or disgust written on their faces at the sight of your dress. You do your best to hide it with your purse.
“No,” your sister starts. “But we seem to be missing the part where you let dirty construction workers make out with you in public.”
You feel your heart sink to your feet, a cold heat spreading throughout your body.
“Susanna,” you pinch the skin between your eyebrows. “It’s not like that.”
“Please, enlighten us, then,” she snobs.
You take a breath, ready to explain yourself. But your father stops you.
“Invite the boy over,” he calmly states.
“What?” all four of you say at once.
“Dad, are you crazy?” your brother laughs. “He’s a construction worker.”
“Ren, please,” you attempt to control your anger. You don’t like the way they are talking about him right now. Only mentioning his job and ignoring the rest.
“What, don’t like me talking down on your pet?” he smiles, doing his best to get under your skin. It’s working, that’s for sure.
“Seriously, darling, what are you thinking?” your mother puts her hand on your father's arm.
“The boy clearly has feelings for my daughter,” he sets down his brandy on the dining table. “And, if I’m not mistaken, she has the same feelings.”
Your sister looks at you in disgust, wondering how you could ever fall for someone so low class.
“Besides, he owes me a good explanation for destroying your clothes,” he clears his throat. “That was custom designed.”
—
You run to your car after the ‘meeting’ your family welcomed you home with. Your hands shake and tremble, trying to start the car without bursting into tears.
Without even calling him, you race to Taehyung’s apartment, knocking on his door with panic laced in every vein of your body.
He opens it, a big smile warming your heart. But it quickly fades at the pale look on your face.
“What’s wrong,” he pulls you into his apartment.
He’s showered since you last saw him. He changed into his PJs, not yet ready to get into his outfit for your date tonight. On any other day, you would be struck with the comfy boyfriend look, ready to pounce into his arms and hold him close until the sun rose. But not today. Today, you have uncertainty flowing through your veins. Could this be the end? Could this be the start of something new? What will happen between now and midnight?
“Baby, talk to m—”
“My parents want to meet you,” you interrupt him.
“What?”
“T-They want to meet you,” you say again. “Actually, my entire family wants to meet you. Today. Tonight. For dinner. At my house.”
You watch him take it all in, his expression changing rapidly into emotions you can’t really put a label on. You’ve never seen this expression on his face. You’re sure it’s a bit of excitement, as he’s always wanted to meet them. But also a little bit of worry, as you’ve told him what they think of people like him.
“I-Is this about the dress?” he asks worriedly.
“Kind of!” you panic, your hands running through your hair. Frustrated tears flood your eyes. You’re just so frustrated with this situation. With your sister, with your brother and dad. With everyone but Taehyung. He doesn’t deserve this. “My sister saw us today, apparently. A-And she went to my parents, a-and they were waiting for me when I got home, along with my brother. My dad was the one who suggested you come over, and I don’t know why. I can’t read what any of them are trying to say.”
“Hey,” he grabs your shoulders. You start to cry, fat tears falling down your cheeks.
“This is not how I wanted today to go,” you cry-laugh to yourself.
“I know,” he kisses your forehead. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know what to do,” you candor as you fall into his neck, sobbing against his shirt.
His big palms rub your back. You’re sure he’s a little shocked right now. You’ve told him about your family. About what kind of people they are. You’re sure he’s scared, too. You hate this. You wish you could just run away and avoid it all.
“Let’s start with figuring out what I’m going to wear, yeah?” he gently smiles down at you.
___
Dinner is awkward. So awkward.
It’s quiet, and your leg bounces rapidly in your seat.
Your parents hadn’t let Taehyung sit next to you. Rather, he sits across from you, unable to soothe your nerves with a hand on your thigh or palm.
Your sister and brother sit next to you, your parents on either end of the table. There are two empty seats next to Taehyung, him being closest to your father.
You’re sure your siblings had interrogated him a little when your mother forced you to change into something else when the two of you got here. Clad in a pink flowy dress and a braid, you nervously made your way down the stairs and into the dining room, only to find your boyfriend in front of his seat, nodding to the space between your siblings as your own.
Since the appetizers came in, no one had spoken a word.
It’s terribly uncomfortable, and you try to distract yourself by silently telling Taehyung to put his napkin in his lap instead of next to his plate. Your brother laughs, and you jab your elbow into his side.
“So,” your father starts. His voice sends a shock down your spine. “I’m sure you have a good explanation for the dress.”
Your nerves spike the highest they’ve ever been. The dress isn’t really that important. Had it been anyone else, maybe someone your father knew or liked, the dress would be replaced without a word the next day. His pressure on the dress with Tae makes you think he will use it against him, causing you to bounce both of your legs up and down rapidly.
“Yes, I—” you start, but your father raises his palm slightly, telling you to stay quiet and let him answer.
“Yes,” Taehyung clears his throat. “I apologize, sir. I was simply being careless. I was excited to see your daughter, and had acted before realizing what she was wearing.”
“That was custom made,” your sister starts. “By Chanel.”
Taehyung doesn’t seem to recognize the name, making your sister smile snottily.
“It’s a brand,” she shoves her food into her mouth with a snobby tug of her lips.
You clutch the end of your silverware, trying to transfer all the things you wish you could scream into the piece of silver metal.
“Enough,” your father stops her interrogation. He has made it clear he would be the one interrogating tonight. “I do have to ask, though,” he turns his attention toward Tae again. “What makes you think you’re worthy of seeing my daughter?”
The table is silent, everyone’s mind empty but your own. You could think of a million reasons, maybe even more than that, as to why he deserves you. But does Taehyung think he deserves you? You thought you made it clear within the past two years that he does, but his silence speaks for itself.
After a few more seconds of being silent, your father laughs a little through his nose.
“I am aware of your financial situation so that already docks a big chunk off your worth,” he starts again.
“Father,” you try to stop him.
“Your occupation is less than fulfilling,” he continues. “Surely, you must know that affection alone cannot support her.”
Taehyung’s mouth is so dry, that he wants to drink the entire ocean. But he lets it sit in discomfort, the truth ringing through his ears like a bomb dropped right in front of him.
“You care for her, son,” he sighs. “I can see that,” your father sets down his brandy, resting his elbows on the armrests of his chair, and latching his fingers together over his lower chest. “So, why don’t we just end this here. Before it gets any deeper than it is.”
You see Taehyung’s heart drop to his stomach. You wish you could go over to him and put it right back in his chest for him, but your father continues to drop it further and further until it eventually breaks in two upon impact with the hard floor.
“I’ll give you an ultimatum, just to be sure you understand,” your father starts. “You go back to your construction work and help your parents with their grocery business. Cut her out of your life. In return, I’ll forget about the dress. About the some 70 thousand dollars you owe me for the destruction of it.”
“Father, please,” you cry, starting to stand. "It was my fault." But your sister grabs your shoulder and pushes you back down onto your seat.
“If you’re smart, you’ll understand how long that would take to accumulate on top of your other finances to return,” he continues. “If you truly care about her, you’d let her find someone who can meet all of her expectations and give her a comfortable future.”
“No,” you start, but Taehyung silences you with his gaze.
He looks to you from your father, feeling the weight of his words. You look at him, seeing how he believes every word your father is saying. You see it ring in his ears, and you know exactly what his next words are going to be.
“Sir, I—” he rasps, defeat flooding his lungs. This is not about the dress. He’d spent the rest of his life paying your father back if it meant he’d let him have you. This is about your future that he knows he can’t support; about the fact that he knows the best he can give you is nowhere near the luxury someone else can. “I just want her to be happy.”
“In this world, love is not enough for that,” Your father stands up, his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “I’ll show you to the door, son,” your father says.
Taehyung stills, his attention suddenly transferred to the calluses on his palms. He examines them, then the scuffs on the rim of his sleeves. It serves as a reminder, that even the best things he owns cannot match up to the expectations served tonight. He knows you don’t care. He knows you’re better than this. But surely it might become easier with time for you. Your father would find someone genius, with wealth beyond imagination. You will forget about him with time, and your wounds will heal. You’ll have an army of new cars, go to fancy banquets with designer dresses, a penthouse in the city, a smart-suit husband, and beautiful children with loads of worth to their names. He thinks about what he could give you, and it amounts to close to nothing. He’s already given you everything he has, and it’s not enough to keep you safe.
He thinks about this before standing in his seat. Your breath hitches in his throat, watching him give you up, your father’s hand on his back guiding him through the dining room, neither sparing you a glance.
“No,” you cry, standing up. Your sister tries to stop you again, but you shove her hand away.
“Y/n L/n, if you chase that boy, right now will be the last time you step in this house!” your mother slams her hands on the table.
There are words you wish you could say. So many emotions and slander and curse words you wish you could shout and spit in her face.
“I'm happy with him,” is all you can say. "I love him"
“Love is but a word,” your mother rolls her eyes. “You will forget about him in two weeks! That boy cannot support you. He can be replaced.”
“He can’t be,” you counter. Your chest rises with words, an essay might come out of your mouth, but you’re silenced when your father comes back into the room, Taehyung gone from your sight. You silence yourself, knowing you have to make a choice. Without even thinking, your feet move, and you’re brushing past your father, opening the door to you’re home and welcoming the rain.
Your parents wouldn’t have his presence in your life, banishing him from your home after he showed up in the nicest clothes he owned. They forbid him from ever seeing you again, using the price of your stained clothes as a threat if he ever were to lay eyes on you again. But you ignore that, running after him, soaking yourself in the rain once again as you chase him.
You call his name, shouting it into the street. He ignores you, and you feel you’re going crazy the more you call out his name until he finally turns around in quick anger. By this point, you two had already gone well down the street, far away from your posh, gated house. He grabs your cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips harshly against yours. You kiss him with fervor, letting the rain soak your pink dress and braided hair. He does the same, not giving a care in the world about the time he spent trying to make himself look nice for your family. He kisses you as if it would be the last time he would ever feel your lips against his again.
“We can’t do this, Y/n,” he breaks the kiss. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close as his jaw clenches from his own words.
“Tae,” you sob, cupping his cheek. He covers your hand with his own, squeezing it tight.
“You know we can’t, Y/n,” he shakes his head, looking into your tear-filled eyes. “They will never accept me.”
“I accept you,” you sniffle. “Please don’t leave me, Tae. I accept you.”
“It’s not enough,” he whispers.
“N-No,” you shake your head.
But he already began letting go of your hand, his heel taking a step back.
“T-Tae, no,” you grab his other hand, but he forcibly makes you let go. You watch him turn on his heel, his back replacing his chest.
“Kim Taehyung,” you sob into the open air of the empty street. He does nothing, continuing his path to wherever he is going. “Taehyung!” you scream, but he doesn’t stop.
Your chest rises and falls so quickly, that you feel dizzy. Panic rises into every vein in your body, watching him grow smaller and smaller as he distances himself from you. Never in your life had you felt like it was between life or death between two choices. But god, was it clear which option had been labeled death, and which one was life.
“Marry me,” you shout. You watch his feet stop, both shoes parallel to each other. The panic in your veins slightly subsides at the fact that his distance stopped becoming larger. And then you say it again. “Marry me, Taehyung.”
He turns around, and you begin walking—running—toward him.
“Don’t say that,” he angrily breathes through his nose once you reach him.
“Marry me,” you say it again.
He looks up, despite the rain, his jaw clenched.
“I can’t go through life without you,” you cry, shaking your head. “I can’t do it.”
“You can,” he denies.
“I’m so in love with you,” you laugh, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I love you.”
His hands clench, balled into fists. God, did he love you more than the world itself. More than himself. But he can’t be selfish. He can’t rip you away from your family.
“And what about them?” he nods his head in the direction of your house.
“They can’t replace you,” you cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “No one can replace you.”
“You can’t replace your family, Y/n,” he says. “I’m just a guy. Probably the least qualified to have you,” he laughs through his nose. “I can be replaced. They cannot.”
“They have given me a choice,” you cry. His words hurt. You wish you could make him see just how irreplaceable he is. You cannot replace your family, but you cannot replace him, either. “I already made it the minute I ran out of the house.”
He looks at you, finally locking eyes with yours. You feel the panic fade when he looks at you, and you can’t help but feel that this is right. That you’re making the right choice.
“Y/n,” he starts, shaking his head.
“I chose you a long time ago,” you go on. “The minute I shared my umbrella with you, I chose you. All your boxy smiles and shy laughs. Your job; your family. You. Your heart.”
A tear falls from his eye, his jaw still clenched.
“I can’t give you this life,” he takes your hands from his cheeks, holding them tightly between your soaked bodies. “I-I will never be able to afford law school or a gated mansion in the city. Or a white Chanel dress,” he whispers the last part. “Your life — I can’t rob you of it.”
“You are my life, Tae,” you rub your nose against his. “That stuff doesn’t matter. I want you. Forever.”
He gulps, the look in your eye speaking nothing but the truth. It scares him because of course, he wants the best for you. But he is unsure of himself, of what he can give you other than his heart. But the way you look at him, as if that is truly enough for you, makes his worries subside. You’re choosing him. Between life or death, you took a side, labeling him as life.
He grabs your waist, his arm pulling you into his frame as he sears his lips onto yours. Big, callused palms cup your jaw, holding you against his lips as if you’d try to escape. This time around, the kiss is hard, so needy and loved. You feel loved like you’ve never felt before. All the panic in your heart fades and is replaced with a need to keep him close. You assume he feels the same, his strong arms lifting you around his waist. You laugh against his lips.
“I love you,” you chuckle, almost in disbelief that you could love someone so much. He’s given you something you thought you’d never receive in the world your parents brought you into. You feel fresh with him, like you’ve been born again.
He kisses you again, confirming he feels the same before he sets your feet back on the wetted sidewalk.
“Let’s go,” he takes your hand.
“Where?” you follow him.
“My place,” he looks back at you.
You come up to his side, holding his arm as you walk in the rain. It was just a walk until thunder struck again, and the rain started falling ten times harsher than it was before. It causes you to shriek, and Taehyung only laughs, beginning a sprint while you follow after him.
You two ran to the bus stop, where you kissed some more, before the bus arrived and you shivered in the air conditioning of the large vehicle until it arrived on the other side of the city.
His place became a little bit of yours. You had unofficially moved in until now, as you stumble in his arms into the elevator, making out like horny teens until the number for the 15th floor rang in his ears and he pulled away.
The kisses you press to his neck make his whole body feel weak, his fingers unable to find the key to his apartment amongst the many in the single key ring chain he owns.
“Baby,” he whispers desperately. “S-Slow down, m’ trying to find the key,” he nervously chuckles.
You only run your hands under his soaked shirt, feeling the divots of his abs under your fingertips. Working at a construction company certainly did have more perks than one.
Finally, he seems to have found the key, slipping it forcibly into the lock and turning it until it opened the door to his apartment.
“Come here,” he lifts you up onto his hips, walking you inside his place and pushing you against the door, making it close all the way. He’s sure to lock it after tossing his keys somewhere on the neighboring kitchen counter as he kisses hot trails up your neck. They’re hasty kisses, and so so needy.
“T-Tae,” you grip his hair.
The feeling makes him groan, his hand forming a fist against the wall in pure self-control.
You slide your fingers under his shirt again, except this time, they go all the way up. You force his shirt off his skin, and he lets you take it off as his hands firmly grip your waist. He uses his new grip to support you when he moves you off the wall, his legs guiding you through his apartment as you kiss his neck once more. This time, to leave marks.
You latch onto his sweet spot so tenderly, and he grips your hips hard enough to leave his own marks on your skin.
With one hand, he pushes open the door to his bedroom before landing you on the soft sheets of his bed. You’re overwhelmed with him. The smell of his clean sheets floods your lungs as he traps you underneath his body.
You gasp when he slides his hands up your waist, his fingers coming to your back to find the zipper of your dress.
He waits for your permission, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he plays with the zipper.
“Please, Tae,” you allow him.
He nods against your neck, telling you without words that he’s going to undress you.
You sit up for him, making it easier for him to carry the fabric down your hips. You’re revealed to him in your soaked bra set. Nothing fancy, just nude colors to hide your undergarments beneath your dress.
But despite the plainness, you watch him admire your body, eyes flicking back and forth, trying to remember what you look like underneath the rest of your clothes. You help him, reaching behind you to unhook your bra yourself.
It falls off your shoulders and your skin perks with the cold air mixing with your wet skin.
“Make love to me,” you ask. “Please.”
Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He’s seen you naked countless times. Fucked you like a rabbit in heat multiple times in just a day. But god, did hearing you ask him to make love to you settle the weight of your proposal from earlier. You really do choose him. And suddenly, he feels like it is the first time he’s ever looked at you naked. Like it was the first time he was going to enter your body.
He felt nervous. So, so nervous. But never so sure of anything else in his life. He knew he wanted you as his forever. But was too selfless to ask you to leave your prosperous life for his. For the longest time, he thought he was living on borrowed time with you. That one day, his first and only love would eventually leave him. His dreams are coming true, and he doesn’t know how to process that other than following your exact command.
“Tae?” you cup his cheek.
He sits on his knees, each one placed next to your thighs as you sit below him.
You watch his throat bob as he swallows, his face leaning into your touch. You bring him back to life, his body finally moving to trap you against the sheets again.
With soft lips, much less needy than the prior ones you two have shared today, he kisses you. He’s gentle as his hips press against yours. You gasp against his lips, the feeling of his clothed cock against your thin underwear stirring things inside of you.
You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles to secure his embrace over your own.
Taehyung groans, the friction making his desire uncontrollable as he grinds against your core.
“T-Taehyung,” you gasp, head falling back against the sheets. He takes this as an opportunity to trap the skin of your neck with his teeth, gently biting at your flesh in soft confessions of his love.
Your breasts push against his bare skin, feeling overwhelmed when he takes your pert nipple between his fingers, pinching them slightly, just enough to drive you crazy.
It’s all too much, his lips, his fingers, his hips grinding into you, sending waves of pleasure straight into your core. You just want him already. You want to feel full of him.
Your heels start the process, digging at the hem of his jeans as if you could get them off without your hands when they’re so securely fastened by his belt.
“Fuck,” he moans, finally granting your wish as he pushes off of you and unbuckles his belt.
Dark brown eyes admire you, laying on his sheets, giving yourself to him completely. You stare back at him, watching him push his jeans and boxers down to the floor, stepping out of them slowly before he hooks his slender finger under your panties.
“A-Are you sure?” he asks you, hiking your legs up as your underwear slides off your smooth skin.
“Yes,” you nod.
You hear your panties fall on the floor, joining the rest of your clothes, when he slowly spreads your legs, creating a place for himself as he falls on top of you again. Strong arms come under your shoulders, and you slide your hands up his neck, one arm securing him close to you, the other feeling a rapid heartbeat under his chest. You gasp when you feel the head of his cock brush gently against your thigh, so close to your core, but far enough away to make you want to beg for it. You, too, feel like it’s the first time all over again. When he took your virginity and your heart and wrote his name all over your skin.
“You look like you’re having second thoughts,” he shakily breathes above you, a small nervous smile on his lips.
“No,” you laugh shyly through your nose, looking into his warm eyes. You see yourself in them, and you’re reminded of the moment you first saw yourself in them two years ago.
“Are you scared?” he asks, lining himself up with your entrance. You know he isn’t referring to sex, but rather everything that comes after. Of your parents. Of everything you’ll have to sort out. But you know it is nothing that you won’t do alone. The man above you has made it clear that you will never feel alone again.
“A little,” you admit with a small smile.
“Me, too,” he kisses your cheek softly. With a push of his hips, his face falls into your neck, a small groan coming from his lips as you gasp and claw at the skin of his shoulder.
“Oh, T-Tae,” you moan sweetly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he slides out just to slam back into you once more. You feel giddy, a small raspy laugh coming from your throat as he develops a pace. He’s so perfect for you, fits you like a glove in more ways than one. He fills you completely. Over fills your cup with all of his love and giggles and smiles. You can’t get enough, it’s almost comical.
“Faster,” you whine, arching you back into him.
He obeys, grabbing your thighs and pushing them upwards until they’re hooked on his shoulders.
“Fuck, Y/n,” he moans, slamming into you with a newfound passion. Your nails slide down his biceps, some drawing blood from the feeling of his dick ripping you open. It makes you choke beneath him, your head falling back as he fucks you full of his cock. “S-So perfect.”
His nose brushes against your collarbone, using your neck as support when he leans his forehead against it. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your scent before he takes your hips firmly into his palms and holds you against the sheets. Your legs fall naturally, too weak to hold themselves up. But he doesn’t seem to care, instead using his new grip to pull you into his hips, pushing you deeper onto his length than you think you’ve ever gone before. The tip of his head kisses your cervix, and you wince in pleasurable pain when he slides out and slams against it again.
“A-Ah,” you whine, unsure how to feel about this new sensation. The man above you is sure, slowly but harshly pushing into you. His sureness makes you swell, and you feel like he is truly combining his body with your own the deeper he goes.
“Y-You,” he nearly slurs. Your pussy squeezes the head of his cock so justly, he feels his vision going blurry. Everything about you makes him explode. His dick, his mind, his heart. Everything. He can't even finish his sentence.
He goes faster, slipping past your folds with your slick sliding down your thighs and onto his sheets.
“T-Tae,” you panic, your high coming in quickly, setting warmly at the pit of your stomach just seconds away from release. “Tae, I’m gonna cum.”
“F-Fuck, me, too,” he moves faster, harder. His hands touch you, your skin following in flames the further his hands slide up your waist. He groans uncontrollably when you clench around him, your warm heat spreading down your walls as he makes love to you. “Y-Yn,” he whines.
“Say you love me,” you gasp, your voice nearly a whisper as you cream his cock.
“I love you,” he kisses your lips. It’s wet and so disgustingly sweet, you force him to lean himself into your body again, to use it to cum. “I love you so much.”
You watch him shut his eyes tight, his cock twitching inside of you, begging for release as he fights it, probably wanting to last longer for you, to give you a second orgasm before he lets himself cum.
“Cum for me, sweet boy,” you kiss his cheek.
“A-Ah,” he moans, his nose rubbing against yours. You squeak when he slams himself into you, harsh and raw, pushing past you as he fills you with ropes of white cum. “Oh, fuck,” he shakes, fists gathering the fabric of the sheets tightly as he falls into your neck, dick twitching as he cums hotly in your walls. He can’t control the noises, he’s never felt like this before. Like nothing else matters but his future with you.
His dick slips past your cervix, exiting your walls with loads of cum falling out of your abused cunt.
He falls on top of you, the two of you catching your breath with closed eyes and heavy limbs. Until you start laughing.
“What?” he chuckles with you. Your laugh is contagious.
He comes up to look at you, your cheeks red and your pupils shot with love.
“Nothing,” you shake your head. You look at him, cupping his cheek as he switches his gaze between your eyes and your cherry lips. “I-I’m just so happy.”
He laughs at that. Himself full of the same happiness.
“So?” you poke his cheek, raising an eyebrow.
“So?” he raises his own.
“Will you?”
“Will I…?”
“Will you marry me, silly,” you roll your eyes. Although it doesn’t seem nearly as sassy as it is supposed to, not with a giant smile plastered on your face.
“Oh,” he smiles back. “I guess.”
“'You guess'?!” you pinch his shoulder. He winces but laughs as he pulls you into a hug, switching himself on his back with your hips straddling his own. Cum leaks down onto his softening cock, but that is the last thing on either of your minds. His big hands feel the smoothness of your thighs, as yours play with the skin of his chest. If he didn’t know every one of your quirks, he would have taken it as you being silly. But he knows you’re just a little nervous about his answer.
“Yes,” he takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. “Of course I will. But, let me do it properly.”
You physically relax, and pure happiness floods your system.
“We never do things properly,” you remind him, rolling your eyes with a smile again.
“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “I-It might be a while, but at least let me buy you a ring.”
“Okay,” you bite your lip, hiding a closed-lipped smile. It doesn’t work, of course, and the two of you are left a stupid mess as you start your forever together.
___
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]
Yes you have to be regular with it. But mostly where i live fresh beetroots are only in winters so i try to drink it as much as i can. Half the beetroot makes a 1/4th cup and that was enough for me. But you can also stop if it makes you nauseous or something.
Hmmmm, I'll have to see when they're fresh where I live. Although I'm always moving around, so it might be a jumbled effort. Thank you, though, anon!! Will give it a try!
The juice tastes disgusting but its like really good for your skin and it increases hemoglobin. You can also add some carrots. I got results in like 10-15 days but i had to ruin my every morning by drinking it lmao💀
I bet....beets are an acquired taste (that I do not have lol). I'll have to power through, though. Is it something you have to do every morning, even after 10-15 days?
Just take half of a beetroot and its juice really helps. Every morning,empty stomach.
Thank you ㅠㅠ , I will definitely give it a try. I've done ginger root before, but it didn't really do much. I heard about sea moss gel, too. Will fs try beetroot though! Thank you, anon <3
[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)
“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.
“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.
“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”
You laugh in disbelief.
“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.
“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”
You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.
“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”
“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.
“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.
“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.
“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.
“How do I look?” You ask him.
Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.
“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.
You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding.
“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”
He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he singlals to you to come over. You do as you’re told.
With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.
“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.
“Tighter,” he asks. You do.
He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.
“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward.
You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you.
“You ready?” He double checks.
You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.
You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed.
“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.
“Trust me,” he tells you surely.
Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.
You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.
Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it.
He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back.
After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.
“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.
“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”
His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.
“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.
“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.
You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”
Suddenly, the light turns green.
“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”
You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.
The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him.
He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.
You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He patss the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.
The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.
With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.
“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.
“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”
He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.
“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”
“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”
He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.
So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes.
He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”
You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.
You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home.
You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.
Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.
“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.
“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.
He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.
“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.
The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else.
For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.
Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.
“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.
“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.
You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it.
“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.
He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand.
You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.
You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure.
“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this.
He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.
His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.
“So pretty,” he looks up at you.
You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.
He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.
But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.
“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”
You whimper against the back of your hand.
“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”
“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer.
“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.
“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”
Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.
You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.
“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.
He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.
“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls.
“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.
“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.
He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his.
He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.
“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.
He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.
“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.”
You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.
“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”
He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.
“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.
“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.
You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.
“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.
You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.
“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.
“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.
He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.
Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.
“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.
You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace.
“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him.
“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.
You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.
He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.
You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.
“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”
“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.
“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”
“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.
“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.
You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.
You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.
“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”
That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.
“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”
You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.
He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.
“Never gonna let anything happen to you,” he grunts against your ear. “I love you too much.”
“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“
“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek.
But he doesn’t really. You don’t know how to convey to him how much you love him. It’s impossible to say and yet so obvious to feel.
“Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.
“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.
With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.
You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.
“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”
“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.
“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”
You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.
The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.
He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.
“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.
You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.
With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.
“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.
“Hugging me?” He asks.
“Mhm,” you confirm.
You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.
“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.
The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.
“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.
“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.
You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.
“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”
“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.
“Now that would murder me.”
***
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]
[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)
“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.
“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.
“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”
You laugh in disbelief.
“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.
“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”
You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.
“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”
“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.
“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.
“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.
“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.
“How do I look?” You ask him.
Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.
“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.
You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding.
“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”
He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he signals to you to come over. You do as you’re told.
With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.
“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.
“Tighter,” he asks. You do.
He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.
“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward.
You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you.
“You ready?” He double checks.
You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.
You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed.
“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.
“Trust me,” he tells you surely.
Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.
You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.
Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it.
He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back.
After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.
“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.
“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”
His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.
“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.
“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.
You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”
Suddenly, the light turns green.
“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”
You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.
The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him.
He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.
You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He pats the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.
The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.
With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.
“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.
“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”
He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.
“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”
“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”
He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.
So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes.
He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”
You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.
You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home.
You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.
Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.
“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.
“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.
He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.
“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.
The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else.
For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.
Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.
“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.
“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.
You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it.
“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.
He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.
“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand.
You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.
You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure.
“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this.
He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.
His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.
“So pretty,” he looks up at you.
You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.
He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.
But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.
“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”
You whimper against the back of your hand.
“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”
“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer.
“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.
“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”
Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.
You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.
“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.
He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.
“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls.
“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.
“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.
He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his.
He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.
“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.
He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.
“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.”
You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.
“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”
He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.
“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.
“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.
You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.
“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.
You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.
“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.
“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.
He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.
Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.
“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.
You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace.
“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him.
“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.
You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.
He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.
You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.
“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”
“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.
“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”
“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.
“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.
You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.
You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.
“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”
That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.
“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”
You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.
He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.
“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“
“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek. “Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.
“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.
With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.
You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.
“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”
“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.
“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”
You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.
The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.
He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.
“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.
You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.
With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.
“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.
“Hugging me?” He asks.
“Mhm,” you confirm.
You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.
“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.
The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.
“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.
“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.
You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.
“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”
“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.
“Now that would murder me.”
***
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]
The past 2 1/2 years have been particularly hard on me. I think I’ve lost more than I’ve made; lost sight of myself in the process. I went through many relationships and experiences that made me question my role in life and what kind of person I want to become.
But underneath it all, I had writing as an outlet. It’s always been hard for me to release my hobbies to an audience, especially on social media. The idea of likes on posts and followers scares me, as sometimes I abuse the meaning and turn it into a fanatical way of rating myself in ways that aren’t fair.
This blog was a leap of faith, and I’m proud of myself for releasing the works that I enjoyed writing and imagining in my head. I still have a lot of improvement to do when it comes to my writing. That’s a part of the growing process that I am excited for.
I have so much going on next year, I don’t even know where to start. In all honesty, I’m not even sure I’m going to have much time to write. I will be all over the place! It’s hard to imagine it from this point in life before the new year has even started. However, I wish to interact with all of you more. Your support has made me realize that expressing myself isn’t as scary as I made it out to be. I intend to give the kindness you have given me back.
Thank you for sticking around and giving me your support. I’m grateful for all of you :))
Please feel free to write in at anytime. I’m always open for conversation or if you want to rant to someone :)
[Summary]: Paternity leave has its effects on Jungkook. After his first day back at work, he can't help but show you how much he doesn't want to go back.
[Theme]: Dad!Jk, CEO!Jk, Married Couple AU, Parent's AU
[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes. Marking, kissing, nipple play, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up y'all), dom!JK, mentions of another pregnancy, talks of pregnancy and getting pregnant, etc.
[Word Count]: 4,274
[A/N]: This is a pure result of the urge my body suddenly gets to want a child right before my period smh. Anyway, felt cute, might delete later once I am sane.
It’s been a long ass day. Jungkook’s white button-up feels stapled to his skin, his pants folding uncomfortably with every step he makes as he exits his office. A long finger comes up to his neck, digging underneath his striped tie, wiggling it a little to loosen the chokehold it has around his neck. His other hand feels bound to his briefcase, which carries so much importance in his life but yet so much burden at the same time.
It’s his first day back at work after his baby boy was born. The briefcase he holds reminds him of the duty he has to his family — of his passion and his support for you and your baby. But it also reminds him of the time it has ripped away from spending with you. He clutches it with so much strength at the thought of you, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and pressing the unlock button so hard, that he thinks he almost might just break it.
With a deep breath, he takes off his tie and tosses it in the passenger seat along with his briefcase. He’s ready to go home. That picture of you, him, and your son that you insisted on framing and Jungkook bringing to work has been a constant reminder of what he has to look forward to at the end of the day. If only his paternity leave could have been longer. You and his son are all he’s been able to think about. How you were doing, if you needed his help, if Jaemun was being feisty, how the cute crinkle on his nose resembles yours to a T.
It’s late January, and the winter air is unforgiving. He wonders if you have the heat on high enough; if Jaemun had enough blankets, or if the tip of your nose was cold like how it always is in the winter months. He can imagine you holding him close, swaddling him as you sing to him delicately. The thought makes his whole body warm, even though the air is so cold that it feels like glass is cutting against his skin.
He’s convinced he will take more time off. He’s the CEO, after all. He could take months off and it not matter. He wants to be with you always — at all times of the day to hold you and be there for you like he should be. If only the world had been that easy to where passions didn’t have a price. He got lucky, his passion having a heavy penny attached to it. But he wonders where that passion took something more valuable away from him — time. He finds himself now strapped between the choice of time and passion, and he fights the fact that he cannot choose both.
The door to your home is welcoming to his eyes as he pulls up to it. It’s not big by any means. Just homey and enough for the three of you. Even with the snow covering almost every inch of it, the reminder of how warm it is on the inside makes his drive to enter it even greater. He does so with a shiver, coming up to your shared home with a stomp of his boots to shake off the snow just before he enters.
To his surprise, he’s met with hushed music coming from the kitchen as he puts his winter coat on the hook, places his briefcase on the wooden floor, and shimmies out of his shoes. He looks at his watch first, making sure it’s not Jaemun’s nap time, to which he finds out it is. The soft music makes sense now, and he smiles when he makes his way down the hallway to the source of the noise.
The rest of the house is dark except for the kitchen-living room area that you and your baby rest in. Jaemun is peacefully sleeping in his bassinet by the couch, cuddling his dinosaur blanket, while you are by the stove, stirring something.
You look over your shoulder at the sound of familiar footsteps, and your heart immediately softens at the sight of your husband in the doorframe. He smiles back tiredly, running his hand through his hair in an exhausted attempt to pull himself together before he makes his way over to you. He looks relieved, like he’s finally received what he’s wanted all day. You’re happy to see him, knowing all too well that that’s what you’ve been waiting for all day, too.
Big, warm hands slide around your waist, a heavy chin rests on your shoulder as he kisses your cheek softly. He takes a deep breath, breathing in your presence as he releases the tension from work off his shoulders. You tend to have an instant effect on him — he missed you so much.
“You’re stirring water?” he laughs as he stares at the pot of water on the stove, unboiled, as you stir it as if it is.
“I’m trying to get it to boil quicker,” you explain with a defeated sigh. “Doesn’t seem to be working. I feel like I’ve been standing here for 20 minutes.”
He hums from behind you, taking your stirring hand and stopping your motions. You’ve never been a big cooker, but he knows you’ve been trying lately. “Just let it be, love. It’ll get there.”
You do as he says, putting the ladle down on the countertop and turning around in his embrace. You wrap your arms around his neck, staring at the tall man who holds you close against him. You’re met with a tired Jungkook who rests his forehead against yours as you play with the hairs at the back of his head.
“How was work?” you ask gently.
He groans, wrapping his hands around your waist and holding you tighter against him. It causes you to rest your cheek on his shoulder, hugging him in full.
“That bad?” you chuckle.
Your husband just sighs against your neck. “It’s too early to go back, Y/n,” he candors.
You tuck a strand of hair that fell in front of his face behind his ear. “We’re ok, Kook,” you comfort. But he only shakes his head, making the tucked strand fall out of its place again.
“I’m not,” he says. “I want to be here with you. Spend time with Jaemun before he’s suddenly 25.”
You chuckle at that. It does feel like that sometimes. It’s been three months since your son was born, but it feels like it was just yesterday that you were holding him for the first time.
You can only hold his cheek in response, running your thumb slowly against his soft skin. You feel for him, you really do. He’s such a good father. It makes your heartstrings tug and twist and pull every time you see him with your little boy. It’s only a matter of time before you have to go back to work as well. The thought makes your stomach turn, and you can completely sympathize with your husband dreading going back to work and leaving you and Jaemun.
“Your water is boiling,” he breaks you out of your daze.
“Oh,” you turn around. You smile, knowing he was right before. “I’m making pasta if that sounds ok?”
Jungkook kisses your neck in response, a gentle thing that has your tummy flipping for a second.
“You could also probably wake up our son,” you check the time on the microwave. “He’s been a little sleepy today, so I let his nap go for a little longer than usual.”
You add the pasta in and turn the water down, moving over to the greens left on the cutting board. You start chopping until your husband’s lips move lower.
“Our son,” he whispers, kissing your collarbone. The statement makes him jittery. It feels unreal still, even after nine months of waiting, and another three of actually having your little family here with him. You’re his wife, the mother of his kid, and he loves you more than anything in the world. You gave him something he can never find an equivalent to giving back to you. You gave him your heart and a family, and there’s nothing that can replace or overcome what that means to him. His soul lives for yours; it’s overwhelming what you’ve done for him. It’s overwhelming how you make him feel.
He kisses your collarbone softly once again, his heart full. You tilt your head to the side for more, and he gives it to you, kissing up your neck with slow wet kisses.
“Kook,” you exhale gently. You feel him hum against the skin just under your ear. Large palms cup your waist, his body moving closer to yours, trapping your hips against the countertop. Your knife feels loose in your hand when he bites at your skin gently, his tongue brushing over the bite mark afterward.
He stirs something within you. Something that you’ve missed terribly for the past few months. It makes your thighs tremble as he gently caresses your skin under his fingertips.
“The baby—“ you begin, but Jungkook’s motions cut you off yet again when his fingers slowly slide down your front. He’s unsure, his hand hesitating over your skin as his breath stops momentarily in thought.
“Is this okay?” He asks you genuinely. You nearly fall to your knees, dropping your knife onto the board, when his fingers put pressure over your clothed mound. It’s subtle, and much more gentle than what you’re used to with him. You know he’s being cautious, but god did you miss him. “If it’s too much, I’ll pull away.”
You shake your head.
It’s been a long time since the two of you have gotten intimate. Childbirth wasn’t easy, and your doctor just recently gave you two the “ok” for sex. The first time you tried since then wasn’t like what you’re used to with your husband. It was slow and painful, ending with a lot of apologies, embarrassment, and frustration. It’s safe to say that you have to get used to sex all over again.
“No,” you lean against him. “J-Just be gentle. I’m still a little sore.”
“Ok,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly. “Just relax for me, baby. I’ll make it feel good, I promise.”
You nod, loosening your nervous shoulders as your husband takes control. He stops swiftly for a second, turning the stove on the lowest setting before looking over his shoulder at his son to ensure he’s still fast asleep. Once he sees that he is, he immediately returns to you.
“So good for me,” he says, slowly circling your clit over your sweats. His other hand squeezes your waist before it moves up, sliding under your shirt and trickling over your breast. You’re wearing a soft bra today—one without an underwire—which makes it easier for him to slide his fingers under.
You whimper when he softly massages your boob, his fingers playing with your nipples gently. Your body, especially your breasts, has become 10x more sensitive since birth. You can feel everything, and everything either hurts or feels really really good. Whenever your husband seems to hold them, you’re a whimpering mess, melting like putty in his arms as he plays with you.
“Sensitive,” Jungkook smiles. His fingers rub harder against you, and you subtly buck your hips against him. His lips graze against your skin, his hair tickling your collarbone as he assaults your neck over and over again.
“You’re so cute when you’re pregnant,” he rasps against your cheek before planting a sweet kiss upon it. “Wanna see you like that all the time. So full of me — carrying our babies.”
“Jungkook, I—” you whine, grasping onto his wrist. You’re unsure what to do with yourself, wanting him to do so much to you, but not knowing where to start.
The man behind you takes his hand away from your mound, and he chuckles when you whine in protest. But his thumbs hook on your pants and underwear, slowly pulling them down.
“Relax, baby,” he asks again. “I told you, I’m gonna take care of you. Don’t worry.”
His hand slides around your waist again, smoothing over your skin until it’s sliding between your folds. The back of your hand comes up to your mouth as your other grips the countertop for support as he plays with you.
“So wet,” he moans, feeling the effect he’s had on you with his fingers. “This all for me? I’ve barely touched you yet.”
You nod, feeling completely at the mercy of the man behind you. His other hand plays with your nipple again, and you feel another wave of euphoria go straight to your pussy.
His fingers gather your slick generously, smoothing it over your clit before circling it gently. He plays infinities over it, making your knees go weak. It’s getting harder to stay quiet, especially when he pinches your nipple gently, making you gasp at the soreness and pleasure it causes.
“K-Kook,” you whine, but he only chuckles, quickening his motions on your clit as he presses further into you. You can feel his dick strained against his work pants, and the thought of him inside you again makes you feel so needy for him. “Want you,” you pant. “Please.”
“Patience,” he shushes you, kissing your neck surely. “I haven’t even made you cum yet.”
“Wanna cum with you,” you whine in protest.
“You will,” he promises.
You gasp as he switches his finger, his thumb trading places with his middle. It circles over you just the same, except this time, it’s joined by his middle finger slowly inserting itself between your folds.
“Oh,” you exhale, feeling weak when he pumps it in and out of you slowly.
He lets himself test your reactions, seeing if the insertion is too much — if it hurts or feels uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be, and he slowly lets his ring finger join with his middle, causing you to roll your eyes back slightly.
“So good for me, baby,” he encourages. “Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” you reply almost immediately.
He kisses your neck. His lips leave hot, wet marks all over your skin as he curls his fingers against your g-spot. His other hand quickly comes to your waist, stabilizing you as you whimper against the back of your hand, trying your best to keep quiet.
He circles his thumb faster, his fingers circling and brushing against your g-spot in tandem with his movements. You feel your orgasm looming over you, and with a certain pressure against your clit, you’re coming undone just as he said you would all over his fingers.
“There you are,” he coaxes you. You’re a whimpering mess, and he feels his dick twitch at the sight of you falling apart on his fingers. He helps you ride out your high, his fingers very gently brushing over your clit as you come down.
Once you're calmed down, you reach around you, playing with his belt loop as you rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. He looks back down, hesitating again knowing what you want but unsure if it’s too much for you to handle yet.
“What,” he smiles teasingly with a kiss to your forehead.
“I want you,” you candor, looking at up him with pleading eyes.
He kisses your nose. “Are you sure? You said it hurt last time.”
You nod. “Please, Koo,” you beg him.
His chest rises, and he takes a deep breath before he nods, kissing you gently as he unbuckles his belt. He places it on the counter before unzipping himself and pulling his pants down. It springs up, pressing itself against your skin gently. But he takes himself in his hands, hesitantly letting it slide down over your folds.
“Let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” He says, lining himself up to you with a few strokes of his cock. God, was he nervous. The last time sex hurt really bad for you, and that was just a week ago. He wonders if the prep was enough; he hopes it was, he really doesn’t want to hurt you again.
You nod, holding onto the countertop again as his tip rubs against your entrance. Your coat his cock in such slickness, even you’re surprised at how much you leak onto him. You miss your husband. You need this bad, and so does he.
“Oh, and try to stay quiet, yeah?” He says with a push of his hips. The motion has him covering your mouth with his hand, shielding your moans quickly. “The baby is still sleeping.”
His dick slips past your folds so smoothly, it has you gasping for breath at how good it feels. It’s nothing like the last time. He’s gentler, but still so so big, he fills you up just right.
“Fuck,” he whispers against your neck once he sheathes himself fully inside of you. The man behind you stills, completely overwhelmed with the feeling of you. He, too feels like he’s had to relearn sex all over again. How to please you right now that your body has changed, how to make sure that you are comfortable with his pace and size. You two haven’t had sex like this in so long, he feels overwhelmed when you feel almost too good for him to control. A part of him is embarrassed by how quickly he thinks he’s going to last.
“How are you still so tight, hm?” he asks with a firm grip on your hip. “Y-You okay?”
You can only nod, pushing your hips down against him. The motion forces him further into you, to which both of you grunt at the feeling.
Testingly, Jungkook pulls out slowly, before pushing back into you a little quicker than before. You coat him generously, creating a motion that makes it easy for him to repeat.
He develops a pace, fucking you against the kitchen countertop with your juices leaking all over his cock and down your thighs. The stove is on and your baby still sleeps; there are uncut vegetables in front of you and your husband still wears his work shirt. But he fucks you as if none of that matters. As if his only priority is to make sure you feel good, to let yourself go as he fuck you deep and just how you like it.
His hand comes off from your mouth and settles on your hip. His other hand wraps around your front, holding you impossibly close against his body.
You moan softly when he bends you over slightly against the countertop, the new angle making it hard for you to stay quiet. But you push your hips against him anyway, telling him without words to go deeper.
The action causes him to moan, following your request with a snap of his hips.
“You like it that much, hm?” He grunts, cock ramming into you. “Like it when I knock you up good?”
“Y-Yes!” You whisper. “I love it so much, Koo.”
“Y-yeah?” He leans over you. A tattooed hand cups over yours, palm embracing the back of your hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Gonna let me do it again?”
“Mmhm,” you squeeze his fingers. “As many times as y-you want.”
“A-Ah,” he pants, mind going into a frenzy over your words. The fact that he is yours, that you are his. That only he can hear you say that. That only he can make you feel this good. That only he has the privilege of calling you his wife. It makes his heart warm and his cock twitch.
“God, I’m going to ruin you if you say things like that, Y/n,” he warns. But you are relentless, leaning your head back on his shoulder, giving yourself to him further.
“W-Want you to,” you whimper. “I love you.”
Your legs shake, completely weak from your past orgasm and your new one forming at the pit of your stomach. His cock makes you feel so full, like you’re stretched to the max capacity as he fucks you good. You know he’s close when his dick twitches inside of you after your words, which only encourages you to gain some strength and begin fucking yourself back on his cock.
“Mm, fuck,” he grips your hips tightly. “M’ gonna cum.”
He quickly reaches around you again, drawing infinities over your clit with his middle finger. His eyes roll back as your cunt naturally tightens at the feeling. Your hips jolt and the knots in your tummy slowly start to unravel themselves onto his dick as you come undone. Just as he had promised, with a final twitch, he’s cumming inside of you with hot, thick ropes filling you up with whispered exhales of your name on his lips.
He lets the two of you catch your breath, his forehead resting on your shoulder before he’s pulling out, shared cum leaking down your thighs and onto the floor. Quickly, he grabs a paper towel from the roll next to the stove and cleans you up a little.
With gentle hands, he helps you back into your sweats before he helps himself into his boxers. He still lingers behind you when he reaches a hand around you and turns the stove on a higher setting once again.
You turn around, wrapping your hands around his neck as you pull him in for a much-needed kiss. “I love you,” you whisper against him again. His hair falls onto your skin, dark locks intertangling with yours as his fingers come up to hold your face against his. Soft lips sear over yours, telling you things that simply cannot be put into words.
“I love you, too,” he brushes his nose against yours. “Was that okay? I didn’t hurt you?”
You pause, looking up at his dilated pupils. He looks at you like you're his world; like he's given you his heart with the full intent of never receiving it back from you. You nod, kissing him softly again.
“You should probably wake up your son now,” you poke his cheek.
Looking at the time on the microwave, he snaps out of his daze. “Oh fuck,” he says as his fingers leave your side. You watch him leave you with a chuckle, turning back to your pasta wondering how in the world you go so lucky to marry and mother a kid to this man. You’d truly give him anything he wanted.
***
[Bonus]
With gentle hands, so big against his baby’s frame, he picks Jaemun up in his arms, holding him against his chest. His dinosaur blanket swaddles him softly, and Jungkook does his best to make sure he’s correctly supported and held despite the extra fabric over his small frame.
Jaemun stirs, and Jungkook places a soft kiss on his tiny head before he gets the chance to freak out and cry. The baby seems to know exactly who is holding him, and he nearly falls back asleep at the familiarity of his father’s arms. But Jungkook bounces him against his chest softly, slowly waking him up for dinnertime.
He makes his way over to you, making unnecessary airplane noises, from what you assume is Jungkook pretending to be an airplane and his son the passenger.
“You know, babies can’t laugh until they’re about 4 months,” you shake your head with a laugh.
“False,” your husband comes behind you again. “I swear he’s laughed before.”
You chuckle, taking the pan off the stove and pouring the insides into a strainer. Just the noodles are left in the strainer now, and you realize that you haven’t thought past the part of boiling the noodles. You ignore that you have no idea what kind of pasta you’re making when Jungkook rests himself against the kitchen island.
Jaemun catches sight of you, and his arm reaches for you in Jungkook’s hold. You come over, giving him a kiss on the forehead before kissing your husband.
“Were you serious?” your husband asks you suddenly.
“About?” you raise your eyebrow.
“You know,” he gulps, holding Jaemun a little tighter. He rests against Jungkook's shoulder, his eyes tempting to fall back asleep again. “More kids.”
You raise both your eyebrows again, looking at him as if he was serious. His heart beats faster when he realizes what you’re thinking, quickly rephrasing himself.
“N-Not now, of course,” he gulps.
You turn around, opening the fridge for some milk for Jaemun as you listen to him. You take out a pot, take the cased breast milk from earlier, and pour it in, turning on the stove afterward.
“I just mean, like, in the future,” he explains.
There’s a long pause as you wait for the pot to heat up enough. The man behind you is weak, and you don’t know if you want to be mean and give him the blunt answer, or soften the blow. Watching how he cradles your son makes you want to go with the first choice.
“Don’t you worry Jeon,” you start, as you stir the contents in the pot. You can hear him gulp behind you. “I planned on giving you as many babies as you want. But at least wait until Jaemun is in pre-school or something. I don’t think I can handle two infants at once.”
You hear little from him at your answer, leaving you smirking knowing full well that you put the man behind you in a frenzy imagining the future you just laid out for him.
***
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]
You broke me. It's been a while since a story made me sob like this
Thank you🖤😪
[edit by author]: Hiii! So glad you liked! I am literally a grandmother I have no idea how to properly respond to submissions. But thank you so much for reading!!
Big fan of your work! Since requests are open I was wondering if you may do a jk smut “holy sh*t i think you got ME pregnant” riding and complete  eagerness for jk 🫣
[Summary]: Jungkook is a little too obsessed with the idea of making you his. About making you both his wife and the mother of his kids.
[Theme]: Non-Idol AU (or Idol AU, however, you see it), Established Relationship AU, Pre-Fiances(?) AU
[Rating]: 18+ literally just sex, oral (m receiving), doggy, spitting, choking, ass slapping, hair grabbing, creampie, cockwarming, impreg kink, dom jk, sub reader, literally just vile I'm sorry
[Word Count]: 2,016
[A/N]: This literally took me almost 4 months, I apologize deeply. I also wrote it and then reread your ask and realized I didn't really follow it too much ㅠㅠ I am sorry I hope you still like it. My mind just went "woo-woo sex!!"
Your boyfriend is a big brat. Sometimes, even a bigger brat than you.
This all started because he was being a big cunt driving you home from your date. He took you out to a fancy restaurant for your 3-year anniversary, but for some reason, he was being a complete prick all the way home. Something about how you looked at the waiter a certain way and he didn’t like it.
So now here you are, your silk dress thrown somewhere on his bedroom floor, and your panties ripped down the middle. He’s naked and rock-hard in front of you, looking down at you on display on his sheets.
“You think it’s funny, huh?” your boyfriend smirks, his tongue coming out to lick at his lip piercing.
“I mean, yeah, a little,” you laugh. He’s so pent up, so overworked over nothing. You literally want to marry this man — he has nothing to worry about. It’s funny, but you’re also extremely turned on. Jungkook mad and jealous, is a huge, dangerous combination you can’t help but bend at the knees over in the bedroom.
His eyebrows knit together angrily as he pushes your legs up, his cold fingers sliding up your folds.
“A-ah,” you gasp, wiping the laugh off your face. His long fingers play with you, sliding and circling your juices between your folds.
“Not so funny now, is it?” he chuckles. He inserts a finger into you, and you grab onto his wrist in a useless attempt to calm him down for a moment. But he takes your wrist on his own, pinning it against the bedsheets next to your head. “Am I a joke, hm?” he whispers against your neck. “You think it’s funny to look at other men when I take you out?”
“N-No, Kook,” you swear. “I only look at you.”
“Damn right you do,” he bites your neck harshly, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You know for a fact you’re going to be purple and blue tomorrow. “You’ve got a smart mouth, Y/n,” he smiles against your ear. “Let me fix it for you.”
“K-Kook,” you whine, knowing where this is going.
“Get up,” he demands. You feel your pussy tremble at the look in his eyes. He’s going to torture the shit out of you, and you couldn’t be more excited and scared at the same time.
Your boyfriend sits down at the edge of his bed, spreading his legs and pointing to the space on the ground in between them for you. You fall onto your knees, sliding your hands up his thighs until they’re inches from his swollen cock. He’s so hard — it almost looks painful. But he looks down at you with hooded eyes, smiling devilishly at the events to come.
“Suck it,” he demands. And you do.
With your small hands wrapped around his cock, you give him a test pump before licking a long stripe from base to tip. The sensation has his head falling back, and you feel yourself dripping onto the floor at the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing from pleasure. You put him into your mouth, your tongue flattening against his frenulum so deliciously, that he grabs your hair in his fist and pushes you down further. The action causes you to gag, not ready for the sudden change in pace. But you accept it graciously, adjusting to his length in your mouth as you move with the pace his hand on your hair sets for you.
It’s always hard to adjust to him. You hate to admit it, but your big-brat boyfriend has a big-brat cock. You don’t think in the three years you’ve dated him you’ve been able to call yourself “used” to his size. But he likes it rough. He warned you when you said you didn’t like rough sex all those years ago that he’d change your mind. And boy, has he. You’re an absolute slut for this man, and he gets a tiny ego boost every time you submit yourself to him like this.
“That’s it, baby,” he coaxes you.
You bob your head onto him, looking up at him with your full mouth, eyes watery and big. He almost cums at the sight, pushing you off for a moment to compose himself.
You come off with a pop, a messy line of spit connecting your mouth to his dick.
He grabs your jaw with his palm, his thumb jutting into your mouth. You take his thumb in your hand, enclosing it around your lips and sucking on it just as you sucked his dick.
“Open,” he demands again. You do, opening your mouth and pushing your tongue out. Your boyfriend leans forward, taking your chin in his fingertips, and spits into your mouth. You smile, giggling with a mouth full of his spit when he slightly sits back, looking at all of you. He was about to say something, but you lean into him, taking his dick into your mouth again and sucking him harder and faster.
“A-ah-Y/n,” he moans quietly, although his grip on your hair returns harshly. “Ffuckkk—hah.”
He nearly laughs at the pleasure; you’re so perfect for him it’s funny. You know every single one of his pleasures, and he knows you do when you begin to play with the skin between his balls and cock as you fuck him with your mouth. The sensation has him pulling you off his cock again for good, himself on the edge of release.
“Get on the bed,” he pants.
“How?” you ask, resting your hands on his thighs. He leans forward again, but this time his hand comes around your neck, choking you a little more harshly than you expected. Your eyes search for him, completely lust-filled and intense.
“How I like you best,” he whispers against your lips. You lean in to kiss him, but he pulls away, teasing you in the most evil way possible.
You pout, but get up on your feet and lay down front-first against the sheets. You feel him come up behind you, touching the back of your thighs softly, gliding his hands up your skin until they meet the round of your ass. You listen to him moan softly as he spreads them apart, taking a good look at your swollen, dripping cunt.
“God, you’re so wet,” he nearly whines. “You gonna let me knock you up, sweetheart?”
“Mmhm,” you whine. The anticipation of his cock inside of you is getting too intense, and you wiggle your ass at him in an attempt to get him to get a move on. But he only slaps your ass hard, surely leaving a handprint. You gasp sharply, toes curling at the surprise.
“Fuck, I want to put a baby in you so bad,” he slaps your ass again. “Wanna show everyone how swollen I’ve made you. That you’re carrying my baby because you’re my girl.”
“J-Jungkook,” you gasp as he lands a third harsh slap on your ass. You almost feel like you might cum — he’s always hinted at wanting kids with you, but hasn’t really brought it to the bedroom. It’s hot, to say the very least. That, and the combination of his big hand slapping your ass.
“No one would question you’re mine,” he grabs your hips, pulling them up into the air where he situates the tip of his dick against your cunt. “You’d be too busy having my babies to give anyone else a glance other than me.”
You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already pushing inside of you, stretching you so well like how he always does. You fold your arms in the space above your head, arching your back into him as he slowly bottoms out. This position always allows his cock to kiss your cervix so delicately, you squirm knowing he’s going to pump you so good once he’s finished.
“Fuck,” he spits, panting at the sheer feeling of your walls around him. “Y-You good?”
You just moan against his pillows, nodding your head as you push your hips back, slipping further into him than you were before. Jungkook grabs your hips tightly, pressing his fingertips harshly into your skin as he pulls out and slams back in with force. You moan loudly into the fabric, but Jungkook pays you no mind, pushing your head further into the sheets as he fucks you like a demon.
His hips slap against yours, and you find yourself coming undone within minutes of his torture on you. The man behind you only laughs, his thrusts becoming harder, trying to push past the absolute grip you have on his cock from your orgasm.
“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, head lulling back in disbelief. “You’re all mine,” he grabs your ass harshly before landing another slap onto it. “Say it, Y/n. Say you’re mine. Say you belong to me.”
“Koo,” you tremble, completely overstimulated from your orgasm.
“Dammit,” he grips your hair in his fist, forcing you to look up. His body looms over yours, his breath tickling your ear as he demands again, “Say it.”
“I’m yours, Koo,” you whine. “I’m all yours; only yours.”
He grunts in your ear at your words, dick slightly twitching inside of you. The way you say his name sounds so sweet. He never wants to hear his name from another pair of lips. It only sounds right when it’s coming from you. The thought of you being his forever, of the diamond ring sitting in the top drawer of his closet wardrobe, looms over him. God, he can’t wait. He’s so eager and so very impatient. He wants you, he wants you as his — as his wife and the mother of his children — so badly, he can almost taste it. He wants to be your husband already.
“Fuck, dammit,” he curses, head resting against the back of your shoulder. He still fucks into you, hips unrelenting and only quickening with the orgasm he denied of himself just a while ago while you were sucking him off looming over his head. “M’ gonna cum.”
“Cum for me, baby,” you permit him. Your voice sounds like honey in his ears, and you find yourself cumming for a second time when his thick, hot ropes spill into you. It’s so much — his sweet voice filling your ear as pleasure takes over his body, the way his cum pumps into you filling you with so much of him you feel so full and used.
“A-ah, Y/n,” he says softly, kissing your shoulder with wet, soft kisses. “Fuck, you’re so good to me.”
“I love you,” you respond as your knees give out on you. He simply falls on top of you, letting you lie down with his cock buried deep inside of you. He plugs you up, even though he’s softening slowly by the minute.
“I love you, too,” he smiles.
“I think you might have gotten me pregnant,” you slightly turn your head toward him. Your boyfriend comes up to you, resting his chin on your shoulder.
“I guess we’ll find out,” he smiles gently.
“You’re fine with that?” you ask him, a little surprised.
“Yeah,” he hides his face in the crook of your neck. “I want like…an entire army of children with you, so I’m completely fine with that idea.”
“I’m not having more than two kids,” you scoff.
He simply looks at you with his bunny eyes, feeling embarrassed by his eagerness.
“Maybe three, but that is pushing it,” you change your mind. Fuck, this man has you wrapped around his finger.
“Regardless, I’m gonna make you mine,” he says surely, turning you on his back.
“I am yours,” you confirm as you push the hair out of his face.
“Officially,” he corrects you.
You don’t even have to ask what he means by that when he stares at your ring finger gently before kissing you into the pillows, the hand on your waist slowly tracing circles on your lower stomach with his thumb.
----
[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]
